The Innocent

  Robie realized this had been a setup from the start.

  He was never intended to get any information from Leo Broome. They were still just playing him. Giving him a tantalizing piece of gold and then jerking it away when he got too close. Whomever he was confronting knew far more about everything than he did. They had assets on both sides, something he didn’t.

  Vance knelt down next to Robie. “Is he dead?”

  “Round blew right through his head. He won’t be talking to anyone anymore.”

  She let out a long breath and stared down at the dead man. “They’re always one step ahead, it seems.”

  “It seems,” said Robie.

  “You were telling him to get down before the shot. How did you know?”

  “They killed his wife, but he got away? I don’t think so. Same thing happened with Julie. They don’t let people just get away.”

  “But what purpose did it serve letting Leo Broome live? He could have told us something.”

  “They weren’t going to give him the chance, Vance.”

  “So why let him come here at all? If they were following him they could have killed him at any point.”

  “This seems to be a game to them.”

  “A game! People are dying here, Robie. Some game.”

  “Some game,” he replied.

  CHAPTER

  70

  ROBIE SAT IN HIS apartment in the dark.

  Vance and a quartet of FBI agents were keeping watch over Julie. He had told the teenager about the Broomes’ murders. She had taken it stoically, hadn’t cried, but apparently just accepted it as a fact of life. Maybe that was worse, thought Robie. It didn’t seem right that a fourteen-year-old should have her emotions so hardened that violent death didn’t shock anymore.

  He had come back here because he needed somewhere to go that didn’t involve other people being around. And though he had a room at the extended-stay residence, he had come back here instead. He wasn’t concerned about killers coming for him, at least not yet.

  They want me alive, for something. And then they’ll want me dead.

  He had strained his mind going back over missions he’d performed in the recent past. It would seem that in his line of work there would be many people who would want revenge against him, too many to plausibly investigate. But he had never failed on a task, and that meant his target always had died. And he had exited successfully each time, which meant that his identity should have remained a secret. But his handler had been turned, which meant that Robie had been exposed to anyone with the ability to pay.

  He rose and looked out the window. It was two a.m. There were few cars moving down the street, no people. But then he caught sight of someone and he moved closer to the window for a better look.

  Annie Lambert brought her bike to a stop outside the apartment building, got off, and rolled it into the lobby.

  When she got off on her floor Robie was waiting for her. She looked surprised to see him, but then apparently noted the pain in his features.

  “You okay?” she asked anxiously.

  “Had better days. Long one for you, obviously?”

  She smiled and struggled with her bag. Robie took it from her, slung it over his shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I messed up today,” she admitted. “Had to work overtime to repair things.”

  “What happened?”

  “Blew official protocols. I bypassed my direct supervisor to get a question answered because my direct supervisor wasn’t around. Got called on the carpet for it.”

  “That doesn’t seem right. In fact it seems fairly petty.”

  “Well, when you don’t get paid much to handle important issues, folks stand more firmly on titles and lines of authority than maybe they should.”

  “I think you’re being overly generous.”

  “Maybe I’m just tired,” she said wearily.

  “Here, I’ll help you to your door and you can get some sleep.”

  As they walked down the hall she said, “You don’t seem too good either.”

  “Like you, a long day.”

  “Petty rules too?”

  “A little different.”

  “Life can suck sometimes,” said Lambert.

  “Yes, it can.”

  They reached her door. She turned to him. “When I said I was tired, I didn’t mean I needed to go to sleep. Would you like to come in for drink?”

  “You sure you’re up for it?”

  “We both look like we could use one. Nothing fancy like your wine. I can only afford beer.”

  “Okay.”

  They went inside. She put her bike away and pointed Robie to the kitchen, where he got out two beers and came back into the living room. He felt guilty that he knew the layout of her apartment from looking at it through the telescope.

  It fit the image of a young government worker whose salary was in no way commensurate with her brains or ability. Everything was on the cheap, but Robie noted one oil painting of a harbor scene and a couple pieces of good-quality furniture that had probably come from Lambert’s parents.

  When she came back out of her bedroom she wore loose-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her feet were bare. He handed her a beer and she plopped down in a chair and curled her feet up under her.

  Robie sat opposite on a small faux leather love seat.

  Lambert said, “Nice to get out of the professional armor.”

  “Until tomorrow morning, which is almost here.”

  “I actually have the day off tomorrow,” she said. “Or today, as you pointed out.” She took a sip of beer. Robie did the same.

  “Why’s that?”

  “The president is out of town with most of his personal staff. When he gets back there’s a big White House dinner. I have to work the event. So I’m going to enjoy my day off.”

  “I would too.”

  She smiled resignedly. “Especially since I’ve been working weekends for the past month. And staff morale is a little low.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The president isn’t doing very well in the polls. The economy is awful. The next election is not shaping up to be easy or pleasant.”

  “Country’s split right down the middle. No election is easy anymore.”

  “True,” she said. “I could never be a politician. It just hurts too much, you know? Every second of every day someone is judging you. And not just for your positions on issues. But for how you talk, look, walk. It’s ridiculous.”

  “So have you given any more thought to what life will look like for you after the White House?”

  “I’m in a phase of life right now where I just take each day as it comes.”

  “Not a bad thing, actually.”

  “Some would call it lazy.”

  “Who cares what some think?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Great minds think alike, in fact.”

  She reached over and clinked his beer with hers. “To great minds.”

  “To great minds,” he agreed with a grin.

  “So is this officially our first date?”

  “Technically I wouldn’t think so,” replied Robie. “It was more spontaneous. But we can make it anything we want. It’s a free country.”

  “I really enjoyed drinks at the W.”

  “First time I’ve done something like that in a while.”

  “Me too.”

  “At your age you should be out a lot.”

  “Maybe I’m older than I look,” she teased.

  “I doubt that.”

  “I like you, Will. I like you a lot.”

  “You don’t really know me yet.”

  “I’m a good and quick judge of people. Always have been.” She paused, took a swig of beer. “You make me feel, I don’t know, good about myself.”

  “You have a lot of reasons independent of me to feel good about yourself, Annie.”

  She set her beer down. “Sometimes
I get depressed.”

  “Hell, we all do.”

  She rose and sat down next to him. She touched Robie’s hand with hers. “I’ve had a couple of bad experiences with guys.”

  “I promise you won’t have one with me.” Robie had no way to guarantee this, but as he said it he believed it to be the truth.

  At the same moment they each leaned toward the other. Their lips touched gently. Then they drew apart,

  When Lambert opened her eyes he was looking at her.

  “Did you not like that?” she asked.

  “No, I liked it a lot, actually.”

  They kissed again.

  “I’m a lot older than you,” he said as they pulled apart once more.

  “You don’t seem a lot older.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

  “Maybe we should do exactly what we both obviously want to do,” she murmured in his ear. They kissed once more. Not gently this time, but hungrily, both breathing hard.

  Robie’s hand slipped to her thigh and he caressed it. She edged her arms around his back and squeezed. Her mouth touched his ear.

  “The bedroom might be more comfortable.”

  He rose, lifting her into the air as he did, and carried her to the bedroom door. She hit the door lever with her foot and pushed it open. Robie kicked the door shut behind them. They took their time disrobing each other.

  She looked at his tats and scars and the wound on his arm. She lightly touched it. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “It was just something stupid.” He pulled her to him.

  A minute later they slid between the sheets, their clothes in a commingled pile on the floor.

  CHAPTER

  71

  IT WAS SIX in the morning and Robie was on the move again. His rental glided down the dark street.

  As soon as he left Annie Lambert still lying in her bed, he had regretted sleeping with her. The sex was wonderful. It had left him shaky and warm and completely out of sorts. It had been a liberating feeling.

  And yet it still had been a mistake.

  He had essentially left a man dead on the National Mall to go and screw a White House staffer. He hadn’t been thinking about the case while in bed with her. Well, that would change right now.

  He called Vance. Despite the early hour she picked up on the second ring.

  “I’m in the office,” she answered. “Actually I never left the office. Where are you?”

  “Driving.”

  “Driving where?”

  “Not sure.”

  “What happened to you last night? You just sort of disappeared after we got Julie squared away.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Robie?”

  “I just had to step back for a bit, get my head straight.”

  “Is it straight now? Because we have a case to work.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t have dinner. And I haven’t had breakfast. There’s a twenty-four-hour place around the corner from WFO. You know it?”

  “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” said Robie.

  He beat her there and had already ordered them both mugs of coffee when she walked in.

  “I thought you said you hadn’t been home. You’re wearing fresh clothes,” he said.

  “I keep a set at the office,” she replied as she sat down and picked up her coffee and took a sip. “You don’t look good,” she said.

  “Should I look good?” he shot back. He wondered for a moment if she could tell he had been with another woman.

  They sat in awkward silence drinking their coffees until Robie said, “How’s Julie?”

  “Fidgety, depressed. I think she believes you’ve abandoned her.”

  “How did you explain things to your boss about all this?”

  “I skirted the line. Told him some things, didn’t tell him others.”

  The waitress came over and they ordered. After she had refilled their coffees she left.

  Robie studied Vance. “I’m not looking to derail your career over this, Vance.”

  “You know, you can call me Nikki, if you want.”

  This offer seemed to deepen Robie’s guilt. “Okay, Nikki, at the end of the day you need to be able to walk away from this with everything in your life intact.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible, Robie.”

  “My point is you don’t have to cover for me. It was unfair to ask it of you.”

  “And my point is if I don’t cover for you the FBI will come down like a ton of bricks. Too many questions, not enough answers.”

  “I’ve got some professional cover.”

  “Not enough. And quite frankly, I’m not just doing it for you. If everything does come out, my butt is probably off this investigation and it’ll get so muddled we’ll probably never figure it out. And I obviously have a real problem with that happening.”

  “Just so we understand each other,” said Robie.

  “I’m not sure I completely get you, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m not your shrink. I’m just working with you to see if we can put away some killers.”

  “Leo Broome,” he said. “Anything found on him that would help? He said they had gotten to his wife?”

  “He had nothing on him. We’re trying to trace where he came from. There was no car parked nearby that was unaccounted for. That late at night we can rule out the Metro probably. We’re checking with cabbies to see if we can determine where he was picked up.”

  “Or else he could have walked,” pointed out Robie. “But there was no hotel room key card, nothing else to show where he was staying?”

  “Nothing like that. But we did find one thing.”

  “What was that?”