CHAPTER
61
“WILL, WHERE ARE we going?” Julie asked.
They had driven across Memorial Bridge and were in northern Virginia. The day was crisp and clear. The sun drenched the area in a wash of intense light.
“Change of location for you.”
“Why?”
“Never a good idea to stay in one place too long.”
He peered in the rearview mirror just as he had been doing every sixty seconds.
There’s no way anyone could have followed me. And if they have it won’t do them any good.
He turned off after driving a few more miles and reached a gate. A man in uniform holding an MP-5 on a leather strap strode toward the car. Behind him Robie could make out another man, similarly armed, who was covering his partner.
Robie rolled down his window and held out his cred pack. He told the guard, “I’m on the list.” The guard checked on this statement using his cell phone.
While they waited, two other armed men came forward. One looked inside the car. Next, the trunk of the car was searched and the underside examined. Julie’s bag was looked through and a machine that could detect pulses behind metal and leather gave the Volvo the once-over. It confirmed that only two beating hearts were in the car.
The gate rose and Robie pulled forward, drove down a straightaway, and slipped into an empty parking spot.
He unbuckled his seat belt, but Julie just sat there.
“Come on,” he prompted.
“Where?” she said. “What is this place?”
“Safe. For you. That’s all you need to know.”
“Is this like the CIA?”
“Did you see a sign saying that it is?”
“They wouldn’t have a sign, would they? I mean, it’s secret.”
“If they didn’t have a sign, how are the spies supposed to be able to find it?”
“You’re not funny,” she snapped.
“No, this is not the CIA. I wouldn’t have brought you to Langley. In fact, I couldn’t have brought you to Langley without getting into a lot of trouble. This place is a couple steps down but it’s secure.”
“So you’re just going to drop me here?”
“Come on,” he said again. “We need to do this, Julie.”
She followed him across the parking lot and they were buzzed through the glass doors of a two-story building. They were met in the lobby by an armed guard and led back to a long, narrow conference room.
Julie sat while Robie paced.
“Are you nervous?” she asked finally.
He looked at her and finally realized that she was scared. And why wouldn’t she be? he thought. This was a lot to deal with, precocious teenager or not.
He sat down next to her. “Not really.” He looked around the room. “It’s just better for you to be here.”
“So is this like prison?”
“Nothing like it. You’re not a prisoner. But we do need to keep you safe.”
“You promise?”
“I’m telling you the truth, Julie, nothing more and nothing less.”
She unzipped her knapsack. “Can I do some of my homework here? I’ve got some math problems to do.”
“Yes, but just don’t expect any help from me. I topped out at pre-cal.”
Five minutes later the door opened and Blue Man entered. Tie knotted, slacks pressed, shirt starched, shoes polished. His features were impassive, but Robie could sense the irritation in the older man. He was carrying a manila file.
He looked first at Julie and then at Robie.
“Is this a good idea?” he asked Robie, indicating Julie with his free hand.
“A better idea than leaving her where she was.”
“I told you it had not been compromised.”
“I know what you told me.”
Blue Man sighed and sat down across from Julie, who stared at him with interest.
Robie, sensing that some introduction was necessary, said, “This is Julie Getty.”
Blue Man nodded. “I deduced as much.”
“What’s your name?” asked Julie.
Blue Man ignored her question and turned to Robie. “And what do you hope to accomplish by this?”
“I hope to accomplish keeping her safe. I hope to accomplish getting to the truth. I hope to accomplish getting to them before they get to me.”
“Paranoia setting in?” asked Blue Man.
“You’re late by about ten years on that,” replied Robie.
“Do you two work together?” asked Julie.
“No,” said Robie.
“Sometimes,” amended Blue Man.
She looked around the room. “Am I supposed to stay here somewhere? This isn’t, like, a house or anything.”
Blue Man stared at Robie, who looked away. Blue Man turned to Julie.
“We can accommodate you here. Comfortably. We have certain quarters for, uh, guests.”
“And Will’s going to be here too?”
“I’ll have to let him speak to that,” said Blue Man.
Robie ignored this and said, “Anything on my queries?” His gaze flitted to the file sitting in front of Blue Man.
“Quite a lot actually. Do you want to hear it now?”
Robie glanced at Julie and then back at Blue Man with an inquiring look.
Blue Man cleared his throat. “I see no reason why she can’t hear this. It’s not classified.” He opened the file. “Miss Getty, your father had a very distinguished military career in the Army.”
Julie sat up straighter. “He did?”
“Yes. A Bronze Star with valor, a Purple Heart, and several other impressive commendations. He was honorably discharged, leaving the service with the rank of sergeant.”
“He never talked about it.”
“Where did he serve that he got the Bronze with the V-device?” asked Robie.
“Gulf One,” answered Blue Man.
Robie spoke up. “Was his discharge based on anything other than him not re-upping?”
“There were some medical issues.”
“Like what?” asked Julie.
“PTSD,” replied Blue Man.
“That’s post-traumatic stress disorder,” noted Julie.
“Yes, it is,” said Blue Man.
“Anything else?” asked Robie.
Blue Man glanced down at the file. “Some cognitive issues.”
“My dad’s brain was messed up?” Julie said.
“It was alleged that he had exposure to some materials that might have adversely affected him.”
“DU?” said Robie.
Julie shot him a glance. “DU? What’s that?”
Blue Man and Robie exchanged a look.
Julie saw this and hit the table with her fist. “Look, you guys can’t just keep speaking this code crap and expect me to just sit here and take it.”
“Depleted uranium,” said Robie. “DU stands for depleted uranium. It’s used in artillery shells and also on tank armor.”
“Uranium? Isn’t that bad for you? I mean if you’re exposed to it?” asked Julie.
“There have never been any conclusive studies done that demonstrated the truth of that statement in a battlefield environment,” Blue Man said matter-of-factly.
“Then where did my dad’s ‘cognitive issues’ come from? And why did they discharge him if there was no problem?”
“I understand that he was a heavy drug user.”
Julie glared at Robie. “Did you tell him that?”
Blue Man held up pages from the file. “He didn’t have to. I could read the arrest and conviction reports for myself. All small-time, petty stuff. All quite stupid.”
Julie stood and said defiantly, “You didn’t know my dad, so you have no right to judge him.”
Blue Man glanced at Robie. “She always this shy and unassuming?”
Robie didn’t answer.
“And none of that happened while he was in the Army,” added Julie. “Or he wouldn’t have left just for medical reasons. They would have kicked him out or arrested him. So why did they discharge him?”
“As I said, cognitive issues.”
“But not related to drugs. So it had to be something else,” countered Julie. “And you read from the file. It said that he’d been exposed to this DU stuff and it had adversely affected him. That’s what you said.”
“Those were his claims. They were never substantiated. But I do see your point. I guess the Army thought there might be some validity to his claims.”
“Did they run any tests on him?” asked Robie. “To see what the cognitive issues stemmed from?”
“No.”
“They probably didn’t want to prove that this DU crap messed with his mind,” said Julie, glowering at Blue Man.
He said, “When you graduate from college, why don’t you apply for a position in the intelligence field? From what I’ve seen you might have what it takes to be a first-rate field agent.”
“I think I’ll pass on that. I’d prefer to use my life in a more positive way.”
Robie pulled out the glossy of Rick Wind showing the tattoo. “This is from Rick Wind’s autopsy. Julie confirmed that her dad had a tat just like this one.”
Blue Man looked at her. “Did they know each other?”
“I’ve never heard of Rick Wind and I’ve certainly never seen him before,” said Julie.
Robie said, “Can we find out if they ever served together?”
Blue Man rose, went to a phone on a credenza, and made a call, while Julie looked down at the tattoo and Robie looked at her.
“You okay?” he asked in quiet voice.
“Should I be okay?” she snapped.
Blue Man returned to them. “We will have an answer shortly.”
“Anything on this eyewitness?” asked Robie.
“Michele Cohen? Not yet. We’re checking. She’s definitely in FBI custody as we speak.”
“If she can ID me and Julie?”
“That would be slightly more than catastrophic,” Blue Man said.
“Maybe she’s lying,” said Julie.
“Maybe she is,” agreed Robie. “But if so we need to find out her motivation.”
Blue Man said, “How will you handle this with Vance? You can’t keep ducking her.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
But right now Robie had no idea what.
His phone buzzed. He looked at the screen.
“Super agent Vance?” said Julie.
Robie nodded. The text message was clear: Come now or I’ll come and get you wherever the hell you are.
He phoned her back. “Look, I told you I was in a meeting,” he said.
“Cohen gave us enough to get a BOLO on the two people from the bus.”
“That’s great.”
“Might be a father and his daughter.”
“Okay,” said Robie. “You said the girl was a teenager?”
“Right. Light-skinned. The guy was much darker, according to Cohen.”
“Come again?” said Robie.
“African American, Robie. Can you get your butt over here?”
“I’m on my way.”