Vance stepped back and let them pass through. She shut the door behind them.
Robie said, “Got any coffee? This might take a while.”
“I just put some on.”
“I like mine black,” said Julie.
“Oh, really?” said a bemused Vance.
“Michele Cohen and her husband are dead,” said Robie.
“What?” exclaimed Vance.
He sat on the sofa and motioned Julie to take a seat. Vance stood in front of him, hands on hips.
“Cohen is dead? How?”
“She was lying, like I said. The truth caught up to her.”
“Why would she lie?”
“Her husband had gambling debts. This was a way out, or so they thought.”
“How do you know they’re dead?”
“I saw him with a third eye at a bar in Bethesda. She died later along with two federal officers.”
Vance gaped. “What in the hell is going on? What federal officers?”
“Maybe that coffee first? I’ll help you.”
He walked into the kitchen and Vance was right on his butt.
She gripped his shoulder. “You better start talking and making sense, and you better do it now, Robie.”
“Okay. First, I don’t technically work for DCIS.”
“Big surprise. What else?”
“This needs to be off the record.”
“The hell it is.”
“You want that cup of coffee now?”
“What I want are some straight answers from you.”
Robie poured out two cups of coffee and handed one to her. He looked out the window at the lighted monuments in D.C. He pointed to them.
“What’s it worth to you to keep that place safe?” he said, turning to Vance.
She said incredulously, “What’s it worth? Hell, it’s worth everything.”
Robie took a sip of his coffee. “Now, what’s it worth to keep that girl in there safe?”
“You haven’t even told me who she is.”
“Julie Getty.”
“Okay, how does she figure into any of this?”
“She was on the bus that night, but got off before it blew up.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Vance asked sharply.
“Because I got off with her. That’s why I knew Cohen was lying. As you can see, Julie and I aren’t black.”
Robie took another sip of coffee and turned to look back at the monuments.
Vance stood there rocking back and forth on her heels, obviously trying to process this stunning revelation. Finally, she stopped rocking.
“You were on that bus,” yelled Vance. “Why? And why am I just finding out now?”
Julie said, “Because it was a need to know and you didn’t need to know. At least back then.”
They both turned to see Julie standing in the doorway.
Vance looked from her to Robie. “Need to know? So you’re in intelligence? I swear to God, Robie, if this is some CIA bullshit that we’ve been running around in circles on, I will seriously consider shooting somebody, starting with you.”
“There’s something off with this whole case, Vance, and there has been from the start.”
“Robie, you have a ton of explaining to do, starting now. What were you doing on that bus? And what happened there? And who blew it up?”
“I don’t know who blew it up. But it had to be done remotely. Not a timer.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t want to kill either of us, that’s why.”
“Again, why?”
“Don’t know. I just know that they want one or both of us alive, for some reason.”
Vance turned to Julie. “What were you doing on the bus?”
“Can I have my coffee first?”
“Jesus, here.” Vance handed Julie her cup. “Now, what were you doing on the bus?”
“Some guy murdered my parents. My mom sent a note to me at school, or at least I thought it was from my mom. The note told me to get on that bus and meet them in New York. When I did, the same guy who killed my parents got on and attacked me. Will helped stop him. We got off the bus. And that’s when it blew up. Knocked us both off our feet.”
Vance snapped, “It was your gun we found near the bus. You were in Jane Wind’s apartment. You were going to kill her.”
“Just listen to him, Agent Vance,” pleaded Julie.
“Why should I?”
“Because somebody killed my parents. And Will saved my life, more than once, actually. He’s a good guy.”
When Vance looked back Robie was sipping his coffee, staring out the window, his back to her.
Vance calmed and said, “I think I’ll take a cup of coffee too.”
Julie poured one and handed it to her.
Vance glanced at Robie. “Is the rest of what you’re going to tell me just as bad?”
“Probably worse,” he replied.
“You’ve put me in an awkward situation. I should report all of this.”
“Agreed. You should. I did with my people, only to find out we had a traitor or two in the ranks. I wonder what the odds are of there being more?”
She hiked her eyebrows. “You mean at the Bureau?”
“You never had any bad apples?”
“Not many,” she said defensively.
“It only takes one,” noted Julie.
“It only takes one,” repeated Robie.
Vance sighed and slumped against the counter. “What do you want me to do?”
CHAPTER
68
ROBIE TURNED THE Volvo in at Dulles Airport and took the shuttle bus to the main terminal. He bought a ticket on a United Airlines flight leaving for Chicago in about two hours, went through security, and hit the restroom along with a dozen other guys. He went into a stall with his duffel bag and came out later with a collapsible roller and wearing a warm-up suit, glasses, and a ball cap. He walked to an exit, rode the bus back to the car rental outlets, leased a new set of wheels using a credit card under an alias—an Audi this time—and sped west on the toll road.
He peered in the rearview mirror. If anyone could keep up a tail after that, they deserved to win.
An hour later he pulled into his hideaway in the woods. He drove the car into the barn and closed the doors. Using a rake to shove straw out of the way on the floor of the barn, he revealed a metal hatch. He removed the hatch and hoisted himself down through the opening. He flicked a switch and old fluorescent tube lighting blinked on. He skipped down the metal steps and put his feet down on a solid concrete floor. He had not built this place. The farmer who’d originally owned the property had grown up in the thirties. When the fifties had come along he’d decided to build a bomb shelter under his barn, thinking that some wood, straw, and inches of concrete could protect him from any thermonuclear shenanigans the Soviet Union might decide to throw at America.