The Innocent

“You said Wind left the Army clean, but could there be something else? How long was he in the Middle East? Was he wounded or captured? Or did he have a change of heart?”

“You want to know if he was turned somehow? Became an enemy of his own country?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“I don’t know the answer.”

“They cut out his tongue.”

“I was there, Agent Vance.”

“I did some research on the computer last night.”

“That can be dangerous.”

“And I also emailed some of our Middle East experts. Islamic fundamentalists sometimes cut out the tongues of people who they believe have betrayed them.”

“Yeah, they do.”

“That could be the case here.”

“We need to know a lot more before we can confirm something like that.”

“Tongues cut out, a bus blown up. This is starting to look like international terrorism, Robie.”

“Why the bus?”

“Mass casualties. Throws the country into a tizzy.”

“Maybe.”

“Rick Wind was somehow involved. He got cold feet. They took care of him. And then killed his wife because they were afraid he might have told her something.”

“His ex-wife. And she works for DCIS. If he had told her something she would have told us. And I can tell you that she didn’t.”

“Maybe she never got the chance.”

“Maybe she didn’t.”

“It’s a workable theory.”

Robie scratched his cheek. “I guess.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

CHAPTER 47

Robie walked outside an hour later after going over the details of the mass shooting. The air was warmer today and felt warmer still as the sun rose higher. It was one of those cloudless days in D.C. that you knew would not last. Not at this time of the year. The capital city was like a bull’s-eye on a weather map. Systems from north, south, and west regularly crossed the line of the Appalachians and hit the area, and their confluence could cause severe weather.

Yet today was good, weather-wise. But that was the only good thing about it.

Robie looked over at the numbered markers for the dead on the sidewalk. Yeah, the weather is the only good thing.

He mulled over what Vance had told him.

A Secret Service SUV had been the shooter’s platform.

It had gone missing.

Things did not go missing from the Secret Service.

Robie had worked with that agency years ago to clean up a mess in a country he had never wanted to go back to. The agency was small in comparison to the behemoths of the FBI and DHS. But its people were excellent, loyal, really the only federal agents who systematically trained to take a bullet for their protectee.

He glanced to his left and saw the FBI mobile command post.

He approached, rapped on the door. He flashed his creds to the agent who answered his knock. He mentioned Vance’s name, and was allowed in. It was filled with high-tech gadgetry and investigation equipment. There were four other people present. In his mind Robie split them up between special agents and tech support. The two techs were hammering on computer keyboards, and data obediently flowed across the multiple computer screens stacked on the long table.

Robie said, “Vance told me about collecting surveillance camera footage from the scene of the bus explosion. You got any of it uploaded yet?”

The agent who had let him in the command post nodded. “Hang on a sec.”

He texted something on his phone. Robie knew exactly what.

He’s getting the okay from Vance to show me the pictures.

Robie would have expected nothing less. The FBI did not employ stupid people.

Robie heard the sound of a text shooting back to the agent. The man glanced at the screen and said, “Over here, Agent Robie.”

He led him to one corner and indicated a blank screen.

“Here’s what we have so far.”

The agent punched some keys and the file uploaded to the screen.

Robie sat in a swivel chair, folded his arms across his chest, and waited.

“Have you looked at it yet?” Robie asked.

“First time for me too.”

Robie felt his pulse quicken.

This might truly be enlightening for everybody, he thought.

The door opened and he saw Vance. She closed it behind her and walked over to them.

“Am I in time for the show?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” said the other agent respectfully.

She sat down next to Robie, their knees nearly touching. She focused on the screen that was now coming to life.

The bus came into view. It traveled a few hundred yards. Robie was relieved to see that the camera shot was not on the side of the bus with the door. A few seconds later the bus exploded.

Robie tensed again. With the bus destroyed, there would be nothing to block the camera’s view across the street, where Robie and Julie’s pixeled figures were now rolling and eventually coming to rest. In a few seconds they would both rise and then…

The screen went black.

Robie looked at the agent controlling this process. “What happened?”

“Blast must’ve knocked out the camera. That can happen. It’s not like bank cameras are built for that stuff.”

He tapped more buttons on his keyboard and finally called a tech over. The tech executed more keystrokes and five minutes later they still had nothing.