Daredevil Riders

74

And I’ve got a few of those right now.

The slight c***k of a stick made him turn and stare down the path.

“I take it you never sleep?”

Anthony walked toward him. Dark slacks, white blouse, leather jacket. The Walther underneath.

“Can say the same about you,” he said.

“Been looking for you.”

“Why?”

“You hungry?”

Herbert hadn’t realized how hungry he was until she asked. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten. “Yeah, I am.”

“Me too.”

He held up his watch. “D.C. is not a late-night town. Everything’s closed.”

“I know a place. All-night restaurant. On the Virginia side.”

“How?”

“I’m an insomniac. So I always do a recon for late-night eateries in whatever area I’m in.”

“Let’s go.”

She drove across the river, taking the GW Parkway and turning off onto Route 12 heading toward Tysons Corner. There was no traffic and the lights were all green, so very shortly they were pulling into the Amphora restaurant parking lot in the suburb of Vienna. There were over a dozen other cars there. Herbert looked around in surprise. “Never knew this was here. And it looks popular.”

Anthony opened her door and got out. “You should get out more.” She smacked

the door closed with her hip.

They went in and both ordered breakfast. The coffee and food came fast and was delivered by a white-jacketed and black-bow-tied waiter who had astonishing enthusiasm for nearly three o’clock in the morning.

“Came by to see you earlier,” Anthony said. “You weren’t home.”

Herbert ate some of his scrambled eggs. “I was out.”

“Out where?”

“Does it matter?”

“You tell me.”

“You have something you want to say, say it.”

Anthony swallowed a bite of bacon. “So you’re really just giving up?” she said. “Doesn’t sound like the John Carr I’ve heard about.”

“I’m getting a little tired of people throwing the name ‘John Carr’ around like I’m supposed to suddenly put on a cape and solve the world’s problems. In case you hadn’t noticed, that was a long time ago and I have enough of my own problems to deal with.”

Anthony abruptly stood. “Well excuse me. I thought you still gave a shit.”

Herbert clamped a hand around her wrist and pulled her back down into her seat.

“I’ll give you a fight if that’s what you want,” she snapped.

“What I want is a little bit of reason and logic.”

“Hey, buddy!”

Herbert turned to see a large, broad-shouldered man standing next to the table. The man said, “If I were you I’d leave the lady alone.” He put a hand on Herbert’s shoulder.

Anthony glanced quickly at Herbert and saw the look in his eye and then watched as his arms tensed to strike.

“It’s okay.” She opened her jacket to show her g*n and then held up her badge. “We were just arguing over who was going to pay the check. But thanks for coming to a lady’s aid, love.”

“You sure?” said the man.

Herbert ripped the man’s hand off his shoulder. “Yeah, she’s sure, love.”

They finished their meal and drove back to Herbert’s cottage. Herbert made no move to get out of the car. Anthony glanced over at him but kept silent.

“Thanks for breakfast,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

A chunk of silence passed as the darkest part of the night drifted past them and the edge of the sky began to lighten.

“I don’t like being beaten,” Herbert said.

“I can understand that. Neither do I. That’s why when I start something I want to finish it. I’m sure you feel that way too.”

“I didn’t have much choice about starting this case.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, Oliver.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s always b****y complicated.”

Herbert glanced out the window as though he expected to see someone watching. “It was my penance, I guess.”

“Penance? I take it other people suffered because of something you did?”

“I sincerely hope so,” Herbert said.

“And now that the mission went to hell?”

“I don’t know, Mary. I really don’t know what that means for me.”

“So go out on your terms.”

He looked at her. “How?”

“Let’s finish the b****y case, that’s how.”

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“Usually at the beginning is a good spot.”

“We tried that.”

“So they expect us to go left, we go right.”

“We did that last time and look what happened.”

“So we just go right a little bit harder and farther,” she said. “Any ideas on that?”

Herbert thought for a minute or two while Anthony continued to watch him. “Not really, no.”

“Well, I’ve got one,” she said. “Tom Birdman.”

“The dead can’t talk.”

“Not what I mean.”

“What, then?”

“Remember when we were sitting in that coffee shop and he told us about being watched?”

“Yes, so?”

“So he told us something. He said there was only one person he trusted.”

It only took Herbert a couple of seconds to recall this. “His wife,” he said.

“So I wonder if he trusted her enough to tell her something that could help us?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“So you’re back on the hunt?”

He took a few moments to answer. “Unofficially. Which is actually right where I belong.”

Anthony PHONED THE BEREAVED ALICE Birdman at 9 a.m. that morning and asked to see her. Herbert and Anthony arrived at the modest two-story house in Centreville, Virginia, early in the afternoon. Alice Birdman certainly looked like a woman who’d just lost her husband. Her skin was naturally pale but with a gray pallor lurking just below the surface. Her eyes were red, her hair in disarray. She held a crumpled tissue in one hand and a bottle of water in the other as she led them into her small living room.

Herbert saw a coloring book on the coffee table, a baseball bat and some cleats in one corner. When his gaze lighted on a photo of the Birdman family showing the dead agent with his wife and four kids ranging in age from three to fourteen, Herbert grimaced and quickly looked away. He glanced at Anthony and saw that she’d had the same reaction.

They sat on the couch while Alice Birdman took a chair opposite.

Herbert said, “Your husband was a terrific agent, Mrs. Birdman. We all feel his loss.”

“Thank you. You know they’re holding a memorial service for Tom?”

“Yes, we heard about that. He certainly deserves it.”

“He’d be embarrassed about it, though. He never liked to draw attention to himself. Just wasn’t his way. He just did his job. Didn’t

care who ended up getting the credit.”

Herbert had been concerned that Alice Birdman had been briefed by the FBI on the exact circumstances of her husband’s death. And the role Herbert had played in it. But apparently they hadn’t done that.

“We’re doing all we can to catch the people responsible,” added Anthony.

“I appreciate that,” sniffled Birdman. “He really did care about his job. He worked such long hours.”

Herbert said, “He told me that he’d had some concerns, about people watching him.”

Birdman nodded. “His own people. They asked me about that, the Bureau I mean.”

“And what did you tell them?” asked Herbert.

Birdman looked confused. “Aren’t you with the Bureau?”

Herbert hesitated. “We’re working with them.”

Anthony said quickly, “I’m actually with MI . Your husband might’ve mentioned that.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. You’re the Englishwoman. Tom talked about you. He thought you were very good.”

“I appreciate that.”

Birdman drew a short breath. “Well, the Bureau was very upset about that. I mean about Tom believing his own people were spying on him. I don’t think they believed it.”

“Did you believe it?” asked Herbert.

“Tom believed it and that was good enough for me,” she said staunchly.

“Brilliant,” said Anthony. “I think you’re spot-on with that.”

Herbert leaned forward. “Tom told us something. Something about you.”

“About me?” she said in surprise.

“Yes. He said the only person he trusted was you.”

Tears crept into Alice Birdman’s eyes. She lifted the tissue up and wiped them away. “We were always so close. He loved being an FBI agent but he loved me more. I know he wasn’t supposed to really talk to me about his cases, but he did, and I would give him my opinion. And sometimes I’d turn out to be right.”

“I’m sure you were a great asset to him,” said Anthony.

Herbert said, “Since we know he trusted you, did he happen to mention anything to you about this case? Something he was concerned about? Anything you can remember?”

Birdman put her hands in her lap and furrowed her brow. “I can’t recall anything specific other than thinking someone was watching him.”

“Nothing?” prompted Anthony. “It might have seemed insignificant at the time, but anything you can remember? No matter how seemingly trivial?”

Birdman shook her head but then stopped. She looked up. “He did say something one night.”

Herbert and Anthony leaned forward.

“Yes?” said Herbert.

“That ATF agent that was working with him?”

“Stephen Garchik?” replied Herbert.

“Right.”

“What did he say about him?” asked Anthony.

“Well, it was late and we were getting ready to go to bed. He was brushing his teeth and he came out of the bathroom and said that he needed to check on something that Garchik had told him.”

“Did he say what it was?”

Birdman half closed her eyes, obviously struggling to remember. “Just something he had said about the bomb, what it was made of.”

Anthony and Herbert looked at each other.

Birdman continued, “And he also wanted to check out something to do with that nano business.”

Herbert looked surprised. “He told you about the nanobots?”

“Well, he tried to, but I didn’t really understand any of it.”

“Did he think there was a connection between what he wanted to talk to Garchik about and the nanobots?” asked Anthony.

“He didn’t say. Just that he needed to check those two things out. That it might be important. Because of something he remembered. Only he didn’t tell me what.”

“Something he remembered?” mused Herbert. “Do you know if he followed up on it?”

“I doubt it.”

“Why?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Because he was killed the next day.”

“SO HOW DO WE GET TO GARCHIK?” asked Anthony as they drove away from Birdman’s house. “We’re not official anymore. I’m supposed to be on my way to London and you…”

“Right,” said Herbert. “Me.” He pulled out his phone. “Well, I can always try calling him.” He hit the numbers.

Anthony said, “If they have him stashed somewhere he might not answer. Especially if they’ve told him what happened. We could be off-limits.”

A voice came on Herbert’s phone.

“Hello, Steve, Agent Herbert here. Right. I know you disappeared right off the case. We were worried about you until we got the heads-up.” Herbert paused as Garchik said something.

“Well, we’d like to meet with you, if that’s okay.”

Garchik said something else.

“I understand, but if I could just ask you about something Agent Birdman was—”

Anthony cut the car to the right and nearly slammed into the curb. Herbert was jerked sideways in his seat and his head would have hit the window glass if it hadn’t already been down.

Herbert looked in front and behind at the vehicles that had boxed them in. The men were already out of their SUVs and striding toward them.

Not again.

One of the men passed a paper through the window and into Herbert’s hands.

“What’s this?” Herbert asked in surprise.

“Congressional subpoena. Courtesy of Director Weaver. And if you’re really smart, you’ll never go near Tom Birdman’s family again.”

A few seconds later the men were gone.

Herbert looked down at the subpoena. He heard chatter. He realized he’d dropped his phone on the car’s floor and snatched it up.

“Steve? Right, sorry about that. Little problem on our end. Look, can you—Hello? Hello?”

Herbert clicked off. “Line went dead.”

Anthony put the car in gear again. “Weaver’s people must’ve gotten to him too.”

“Must’ve.”

“Now we can’t find out what Garchik told Birdman.”

“What if what he told Birdman is something he told us too? As far as I know we were with him pretty much every time he spoke to Garchik.”