Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
Six clasped his hand over hers, holding her in place. The champagne came, no words were exchanged, and the female server went to check on a group of three at another outdoor table.
Six said, “Cathy. I’m sorry, but David Rudder was killed this morning. He was staying at a hotel in Alexandria; the enemy found him somehow. Cause of death hasn’t been announced.”
Her eyes began to mist; her chest heaved in her coat a little. “My God,” she said softly.
Six said, “You’re doing good. No big reaction.”
“I didn’t see it in the news.”
“I don’t think next of kin has been notified, so the police haven’t released details.” He added, “Here’s the thing, though. That killing? It was originally supposed to take place right here.”
“Here? Who…who is behind all this? Russia?”
“I was hoping you could help us out with that. Everyone who’s died has been in the IC, but they’ve had all sorts of jobs. Different specialties. I’m with a group trying to figure this out, but we always seem to be one step behind.”
“If…” Her voice cracked a little. “If the people who are here know that David Rudder is already dead…then why are they here?”
Six sighed. “You’re an extremely smart lady. You can figure that out on your own.”
Her eyes widened. “Me? They’re after me?”
“That’s my guess. The Belarusian who died the other night had a list of five names.
Rudder was number two, after Irene Ortega.
He had this location and time next to the name.
We think he was going to kill Rudder here.
When Deep Space died…Alexi Kravchuk, I mean.
When that happened, it appears that another hit man got the job to kill Rudder.
We assumed he would come here today, and it was our plan to stop him before he got anywhere near you.
Unfortunately, the bad guys found Rudder before we did, and his body was fished out of the Potomac a half hour ago.
We were here already, and that’s when we ID’d a surveillance package on you. ”
“And they came to kill me?”
Court sipped his cappuccino as soon as it was brought to him. “You weren’t on Kravchuk’s list, but they certainly aren’t here to kill David Rudder. You must have been added.”
“And I should…I should stay calm? That’s really your advice?”
Court squeezed her hand a little. “I’m asking you to trust me.
Look…I have some people working with me.
We have control of the situation.” His eyes flitted left and right.
“I mean…sort of. We think the people watching you are an interdiction and isolation team. They are in place to support the hitter, to keep you where you are. He, or she, I guess, will likely come at the last moment.”
“Why do they want me dead? I’m not in the government like all the others.”
“My best guess would be this. Whatever story you’ve been working on…you aren’t wrong.”
With a shaky hand, she brought her champagne to her lips. “That’s validating.” She sipped, thought a moment. “Are you still working outside the CIA?”
“Yes.”
“But…you’re not with the Gauntlet Group, are you?”
“I’m not.” Six chuckled. “I’m one of the few people on the outside not working for them these days.”
“Right.”
Court cocked his head. “Why did you ask about them?”
She sipped her champagne again. “The book I’m writing. It’s about Gauntlet. Their overreach, their shady hiring practices, their tight relationship with people in the government who are falling short of their oversight. Their contracts with oppressive regimes in other countries.”
“What other countries?”
“They have secret foreign subsidiaries. I have people behind the scenes telling me that Gauntlet-affiliated partners are working contracts for Egypt, Nigeria, even China. They use other names, other bank accounts, but Gauntlet leadership in the U.S., it is my belief, is running it all.”
Court said, “Christ. And what was Rudder’s connection to all this?”
“David Rudder was a pilot for Gauntlet. He said he was copilot on a flight that flew a woman from Italy to the U.S. last week. They listed her as cargo when they came into the country, landed at JFK. There was no immigration check; the woman just climbed into a Gauntlet minivan and drove away.
“He said he thought it was shady, but Gauntlet does a lot of shady things.
It was only when he brought a man here from Slovenia two days later—they landed at Dulles with no immigration checks, then the assassinations started and the Belarusian hit man, Kravchuk, was killed over in Washington Circle—that he suspected he had brought one of the killers into the country.
“Whether or not the killers are working for Gauntlet, he was sure that Gauntlet brought at least one of them here. Maybe all of them.”
Six nodded, as if what she’d said just filled in some holes. He said, “Did he describe these people?”
“He snuck out his phone, took a picture of the man on the tarmac at Dulles,” she said. “He’d promised to show it to me today.”
—
Court Gentry’s eyes scanned the reflection in the window of the restaurant just next to where he sat, trying to see if he could make any of the pedestrians on this residential street who didn’t belong.
He was about to address Catherine again when a voice came through his earpiece.
Gumdrop said, “This is overwatch. Video canvas shows movement two blocks to your west. A motorcycle just double-parked, and a lone man climbed off.”
Court held a finger up to Catherine, and then, to Gumdrop, he said, “Can you get an ID?”
“He’s on the sidewalk, heading east on foot.
Wait, he’s taking off his helmet, putting on a ball cap.
Can’t see his face yet. He’s got a backpack.
All Gauntlet elements detected in the neighborhood are holding position.
No sightings of anyone else on foot that the software is pinging as hostile.
The new arrival will be on you in two minutes. ”
Court said, “Get me that ID, Gumdrop.” He looked to Catherine now. “You might wanna drink up.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Remember how I said we should be fine as long as it’s just the interdiction and isolation element?”
“It’s not?”
Gumdrop’s voice came over Court’s earpiece. “Visual attained. Subject approaching from the east is code-named Snare, he’s a Jordanian national who—”
Court spoke over her. “I know that asshole. ETA to my poz?”
“At present speed, about ninety seconds.”
To Catherine, he said, “What kind of exercise do you do?”
The question seemed to come out of left field. “Huh?”
“Anything for fitness?”
Confused, she said, “Pilates.”
“Yeah, that’s not particularly helpful. Anything else?”
“I have a mountain bike. I like to ride the trails here on weekends, or my mom’s place up in Maryland when I can get away.”
Court nodded. “Excellent. Next question. Do you want to get out of here alive?”
King had consumed almost all the champagne now. She took a few breaths to compose herself, then spoke softly, looking into Six’s eyes. “I’ve always said that I would very much like to live long enough to where my obituary did not contain the word ‘untimely’ in it.”
“Then I hope you are okay with a dine-and-dash.”
“What?”