Friday, late morning
Special Agent Callum McLain was standing next to the helicopter at Quantico, chatting with their pilot, J. J. Markie, a fireball who told stories about how he’d flown a helicopter into the heart of hell in Afghanistan, mixed it up with the devil, and flown back out whistling, when Sherlock drove onto the tarmac in her trusty Volvo. Sherlock had met Callum—Cal—a couple times, and liked him. He was smart, funny, and no-nonsense when he was focused. He was a big guy in his early thirties, buff and well dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, his Glock doubtless clipped to his belt. She saw he was wearing black boots, not wing tips. She was glad Dillon had picked him to accompany her. She hadn’t argued because she knew it was important to him, to do all he could do to keep her safe.
“Agent Sherlock? Good to see you again.” She and Cal shook hands and he took her overnight bag. “Been about four months, since that barbecue the director gave at his house for a bunch of agents.”
Sherlock smiled up at him. “I remember the special dishes he made for the vegetarians, especially that grilled corn on the cob, one of Dillon’s favorites.”
“Worked out. I got his share of barbecue ribs. You and Savich had your little boy with you—Sean, right? Do you know, I’d like to have one like him someday?”
Markie poked him on the shoulder. “To pull that off, you’ve got to find an unsuspecting woman first, McLain. Congratulations, Sherlock, on bringing down that terrorist at JFK, amazing what you did. My daughter Ruth says she wants to be an FBI agent like you when she grows up. I asked her if she was going to curl her hair and dye it red to match yours. Not a problem, she told me, she’d already picked out the exact shade. She wants to start karate tomorrow.”
“How old is your daughter, J.J.?”
“The little pistol turned six last week.” He looked down at his watch. “You guys ready to go? I’d like to get this bird in the air. We don’t want to keep New York twiddling their thumbs.”
When they were buckled in the back seats, their headphones clear, Markie gave them the safety rundown. Then, “A little under an hour to the helipad on Thirty-fourth Street. We’ve got a nice wind on our tail pushing us north.”
They rose slowly to about fifty feet, banked and headed northward. Minutes later, Sherlock was looking down at dozens of white granite buildings and monuments, the Potomac lazily curling around them, the Washington Monument spearing toward the clouds. She said into her mike, “Cal, if you didn’t know, Dillon asked Mr. Maitland for you specifically. He said you’d have my back, that you have no fear, which is really not that reassuring if you think about it. I thought you’d like to know, though.”
No fear? Yeah, he liked the sound of that, but then he caught Sherlock’s crooked smile. “My boss told me both of you wanted someone with you from our house, not some New York cowboy you didn’t know. I gotta tell you, Sherlock, to be involved in this particular terrorist investigation, to actually be in on the chase, it’s more than I hoped for. Trust me, I’m going to be your second skin.”
That sounded good to her. Cal studied her, then lightly touched his hand to her arm. “Not that you need me. They ought to be showing that JFK video of you at Quantico, how you got the terrorist’s attention right away, engaged him, distracted him. The woman he grabbed—Melissa Harkness—she was impressive, too, the way she saved herself. I told my brother he ought to give her a call, ask her out for a cup of coffee. He’s with Treasury, harmless and single. Someone like her might do him good.”
“I hope he follows through. Melissa deserves a really good guy. He might have some competition, though. I spoke to her this morning. She’s blooming, enjoying her coworkers drooling all over her.”
“I wonder why the terrorist is insisting on speaking only to you? I mean, you beat the crap out of him. If a woman did that to me in front of the world, the last thing I’d want to do is have a nice chat with her.”
“Everyone’s wondering the same thing. Maybe it’s a case of the devil he knows, or maybe the devil he’d like to strangle if he gets the chance. I’m expecting Agent Giusti to bring us up to date on the investigation and give us an idea of what to expect before I sit with him.”
Cal said, “If he does try to strangle you, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me take him apart this time.”
“Well, okay, I can hold myself back, let you get your licks in. Oh, yes, Agent Giusti doesn’t know you’re coming. She’s probably already assigned another agent to protect me.”
“Another body who can shoot a gun can’t hurt. I heard Giusti’s got quite a rep as a badass in the New York office, and that’s saying something, since a lot of them are yahoos.”
“You have the same rep, Cal. That’s one of the reasons Dillon wanted you with me.”
He looked surprised. “Me? A badass? Nah. Now, Giusti, I’ve never met her, but like I said, I’ve heard some things. I expect she’ll try to take me down a notch—or two—if she can manage it.”
Sherlock pictured Kelly Giusti’s ramrod-straight back and squared shoulders, remembered the small smile she’d finally managed to coax out of her. “My money might be on her, Cal. She’s tough, smart, and focused—hmm, sounds like you, doesn’t she?—except I’m not sure she has your sense of humor. Yeah, I think you can expect some grief from her. So could Darth Vader. I’m sure you’ll both be professional about it, right?” And she punched him in the arm.
“No worries, I’m the very definition of the word.” He fell silent and drummed his fingertips on his knee. “I heard Savich didn’t like your getting involved in this. Can’t say I blame him.”
All Sherlock said was “He wasn’t thrilled.” Dillon had been silent, which meant he was afraid, not about what he was dealing with, but for her. He’d held her so tight she felt her ribs creak. She’d leaned back, held his face between her hands, and kissed him, twice. “I love you. I will be all right. I’ll call you as often as I can.” She had time only to call Sean, tell him she had to leave, a couple of days, no more. New York? He’d asked her to visit FAO Schwarz and buy him something very cool, like Captain Munchkin’s new video game with the river trolls.