The helicopter lurched to the side, then straightened again. Charlie said over the intercom, “Just making sure you guys are awake. All’s okay.”
Nicholas said, “We surely appreciate that, Charlie. Now, Mike, let me check my e-mail, see if Gray has sent me a dossier on Carl Grace, her uncle. Yes, here it is.”
“Tell me.”
“Apparently Vanessa’s dad, Paul Grace, is rather legendary in the intelligence community. He was an undercover agent in the eighties and nineties, working deep cover with the IRA in Northern Ireland. He nailed a faction of IRA bombers, then was shot dead by a wife of one of the men in the group.”
Nicholas closed the cover of the tablet. “As for his younger brother, Carl Grace, he came out of the field after he adopted Vanessa. This has got to be unusual—he became her handler after she joined the CIA.”
Mike said, “And now she’s been shot. I don’t want her to die, Nicholas, I really don’t.”
“I don’t, either. We’ll soon see.”
Charlie said, “Nearly there, folks, and only one little bump to keep you alert. I’ve been asked to patch through a call from Special Agent Savich. Please switch to channel two.”
Nicholas flipped the channel, as did Mike. “Savich? What’s wrong?”
“I just got a call from Dominion Virginia Power. They’re having trouble with their electrical grid powering Richmond. Get here as quickly as you can, Nicholas. I’m afraid an external attack is coming.”
50
KNIGHT TAKES D1
FBI Headquarters, Hoover Building
Washington, D.C.
There were two cars waiting at the heliport, one FBI, the other CIA. Swanson gave them a small wave and went to join his compadres. “I hope they tear him a new one,” Nicholas said, and Mike spurted out a laugh at the Americanism.
“I have a feeling Ms. Finder might do some of the tearing, too, once she gets her hands on him again,” Mike said. “I know I’m not at all sad to see the last of him.”
They got into the back of a black SUV. Special Agent Dover, their driver, said, “Seat belts, folks. I’ve got to get you to the Hoover Building in ten minutes.”
As Dover ducked and dodged through the insane traffic, Nicholas said to Mike, “Sounds to me like you’d like to join Ms. Finder.”
“You bet. That jerk said I was uptight.” She turned to face him. “I am not uptight. I’m not, am I, Nicholas? I’m the furthest thing from uptight I can think of, right? I mean, I know how to party, I know how to let my hair down and hang out. Shut your mouth. If you laugh at me, I’m going to belt you.”
He swallowed the laugh. “No, Agent Caine, uptight isn’t ever something I’d ever say about you.”
“Yeah, and what would you say about me?”
“Hmmm, how about fast off the mark without a lot of thought—”
“Me, fast off the mark? What about you and Craig Swanson? You couldn’t wait to pound him. You didn’t even give it a second’s thought, did you?”
“You wanted to jump him, too. I was simply closer.”
Well, now, that was the truth. “Stop trying to make me laugh.”
Three horns honked off to their right, and Dover raised his middle finger. “Out-of-towners,” he said, and sped through a yellow light, whipping to the left to avoid a taxi.
Nicholas slid against her. He didn’t move, closed his eyes for a moment.
Mike was looking out the window. “Everything’s ready to burst into summer. Cherry blossoms are long gone.”
Nicholas moved back to his side of the SUV. “I wonder what’s happening to the power grid in Richmond.”
“No word from Savich—that’s got to be good news. Maybe it was a false alarm.”
“Like that ever happens,” Nicholas said.