lanes. “Which is why you need to keep your name out of it. Do not pull rank anywhere in that airport, because I can guarantee that your real name is flagged and the first computer check will shut us down. If it gets back, my boss will have my ass, yours will be handed to you by yours, and Griffin really will be on his own. There are a lot of agents working for ATLAS out in the field whose safety depends on this remaining under the radar, Sydney. ”
She removed her ID from her purse, along with anything else that might identify her. “Why would they connect me to this?”
“They’re goddamned secret agents, Syd. They know you know me.”
“Next time a secret agent walks into my office, I am so ignoring him.”
“Good luck with that.”
By the time they neared the airport, they’d lost sight of the van, and hoped they’d lost it. Tex stopped his car in front of the glass doors, as the warning announcement about unattended vehicles being towed aired over the loudspeakers. Sydney got out, opened the back door, and was pulling out her bag when she saw the van from her peripheral vision driving into the passenger drop-off zone. “They’re here.”
Tex drew his gun, held it low. “It’d really help if you could get in there without being ID’d. Or shot.”
“I’d definitely like to avoid the latter, thank you.” She looked around, saw three uniformed police officers standing about twenty feet away from the terminal entrance, eyeing the incoming passengers. Under normal circumstances, she’d pull out her credentials, then inform them there were two armed men in the van.
These were not normal circumstances.
Think. She needed the suspects distracted long enough for her to safely get inside, past security.
She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder. Doing her best to look less like a federal agent and more like a frightened woman, she ran over to the officers. “Thank God! Some woman just stopped me and said that van’s been following her all night,” Sydney told them, pointing at the approaching vehicle. “She saw guns.”
The officers looked in that direction, one radioing about possible armed subjects. Within seconds several more officers came running out the terminal doors as the van rolled up. The police drew their weapons, aimed at the vehicle. Pedestrians screamed, some ducking behind cars, others running into the terminal. Sydney, quickly forgotten in the general chaos, ran through the doors. She glanced back, saw the van speeding off, officers jumping into their patrol cars to follow, and she quickened her pace toward security, losing herself in the crowd.
Forty-five minutes later, she sat on the plane and had just slid her purse under the seat, then remembered to shut off her phone. She flipped it open and saw she had missed a call. She didn’t recognize the number. She did recognize the country code, the Netherlands, and she hit redial, listening to it ring.
Someone picked up on the other end, but didn’t speak.
“Hello?” she said, hearing faint static, but nothing else. Was it Griffin? Had to be. Just in case, she kept it vague. “If you’re there, I’m coming out. I have something for you. I just need to know where to go.”
No answer.
“Are you there?”
The static ended and she heard absolute silence.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the flight attendant said, stopping by Sydney’s seat as she made her preflight inspection round. “You’ll have to turn off your phone.”
Sydney hit the power button, then dropped the phone into her purse. If it wasn’t Griffin, she didn’t want to imagine who might be waiting for her when she stepped off that plane.
And if it was Griffin? She thought of the sketch, the resemblance to his wife. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to be the one to show it to him.
Chapter 17
December 7
Washington, D.C.
R ight after the shooting, Izzy had been half tempted to get a room at the Hilton. God knew he had access to enough credit card numbers
She removed her ID from her purse, along with anything else that might identify her. “Why would they connect me to this?”
“They’re goddamned secret agents, Syd. They know you know me.”
“Next time a secret agent walks into my office, I am so ignoring him.”
“Good luck with that.”
By the time they neared the airport, they’d lost sight of the van, and hoped they’d lost it. Tex stopped his car in front of the glass doors, as the warning announcement about unattended vehicles being towed aired over the loudspeakers. Sydney got out, opened the back door, and was pulling out her bag when she saw the van from her peripheral vision driving into the passenger drop-off zone. “They’re here.”
Tex drew his gun, held it low. “It’d really help if you could get in there without being ID’d. Or shot.”
“I’d definitely like to avoid the latter, thank you.” She looked around, saw three uniformed police officers standing about twenty feet away from the terminal entrance, eyeing the incoming passengers. Under normal circumstances, she’d pull out her credentials, then inform them there were two armed men in the van.
These were not normal circumstances.
Think. She needed the suspects distracted long enough for her to safely get inside, past security.
She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder. Doing her best to look less like a federal agent and more like a frightened woman, she ran over to the officers. “Thank God! Some woman just stopped me and said that van’s been following her all night,” Sydney told them, pointing at the approaching vehicle. “She saw guns.”
The officers looked in that direction, one radioing about possible armed subjects. Within seconds several more officers came running out the terminal doors as the van rolled up. The police drew their weapons, aimed at the vehicle. Pedestrians screamed, some ducking behind cars, others running into the terminal. Sydney, quickly forgotten in the general chaos, ran through the doors. She glanced back, saw the van speeding off, officers jumping into their patrol cars to follow, and she quickened her pace toward security, losing herself in the crowd.
Forty-five minutes later, she sat on the plane and had just slid her purse under the seat, then remembered to shut off her phone. She flipped it open and saw she had missed a call. She didn’t recognize the number. She did recognize the country code, the Netherlands, and she hit redial, listening to it ring.
Someone picked up on the other end, but didn’t speak.
“Hello?” she said, hearing faint static, but nothing else. Was it Griffin? Had to be. Just in case, she kept it vague. “If you’re there, I’m coming out. I have something for you. I just need to know where to go.”
No answer.
“Are you there?”
The static ended and she heard absolute silence.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the flight attendant said, stopping by Sydney’s seat as she made her preflight inspection round. “You’ll have to turn off your phone.”
Sydney hit the power button, then dropped the phone into her purse. If it wasn’t Griffin, she didn’t want to imagine who might be waiting for her when she stepped off that plane.
And if it was Griffin? She thought of the sketch, the resemblance to his wife. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to be the one to show it to him.
Chapter 17
December 7
Washington, D.C.
R ight after the shooting, Izzy had been half tempted to get a room at the Hilton. God knew he had access to enough credit card numbers
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