The End Game

He went quiet again.

 

It took Savich a few more minutes to navigate the overrun streets to George Washington University Hospital. No Metro, no trains, so the lines at the bus stops were hundreds deep, people standing in the street because the sidewalks were full. A nightmare security risk.

 

With the electricity off, the hospital looked strangely deserted. Savich parked and put his FBI placard on the dash. As they walked to the front doors, Mike suddenly stopped, turned, whispered to Nicholas, “We’re being watched.”

 

“Well, yes,” Nicholas said. “I make two cameras on the second and third floors, and a car two rows over in the handicap spot.”

 

“No trust from our CIA compadres,” Savich said. “It never fails to amaze me.”

 

“Maybe they’re afraid someone might be coming after Vanessa,” Mike said.

 

“That’s the more optimistic view,” Savich said.

 

Vanessa’s uncle, Carlton Grace, waited for them in the lobby. Mike saw the look of Vanessa in his face, the long nose, square jaw, family traits. Where Vanessa was beautiful, though, Grace was homely. Comfortable, sort of wrinkled. A guy you wouldn’t give a second look to walking by on the street. He disappeared.

 

The perfect look for a spy. Had Vanessa’s father looked the same way?

 

He introduced himself, shook hands with all three of them. “Thank you for coming. Please don’t ask any questions until we’re inside. The room is clean so we can speak freely.”

 

Nicholas said, “Why do you have so many eyes on us?”

 

Grace smiled. “I wasn’t spying on you, Agent Drummond. It’s Matthew Spenser, the man who tried to murder Vanessa. If he found out she’s alive, he could try to finish the job. I have no intention of letting that happen. There is more, of course. Come with me.”

 

Savich thought that was good to hear, but he didn’t know whether or not to believe him.

 

Grace led them through oddly lit halls. The generators were running fine; the power didn’t flicker.

 

They turned a corner and there was Craig Swanson lounging against a wall, arms crossed. His face was bruised and his nose was bridged with white tape. When he saw Nicholas he straightened like a shot.

 

Nicholas grinned at him like a bandit. So to add insult to injury, you got a real dressing down, didn’t you, mate?

 

He would swear Mike growled as she passed by. Swanson called out, “Hey, Agent Caine. Good to see you again so soon. No warm hellos for me?”

 

“Yeah, big hello, Craig. I’d like to belt you, but it looks like you really can’t take much more.”

 

He automatically touched his fingers to the white tape, then looked at Nicholas once more. “You broke my nose, you flippin’ Brit bastard.”

 

Nicholas shrugged. “I told you to stop fighting me, mate, gave you lots of chances to back off. It’s your own fault.”

 

“That’s enough,” Carl Grace said. “Status, Craig?”

 

The aggression switch flipped off instantly. “Sir, Vanessa is awake and hurting, but holding it together. No one’s come near her who shouldn’t.”

 

Grace nodded and Swanson knocked once, then opened the door.

 

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