F Paul Wilson - Novel 02 (33 page)

 
          
Gerry
took his turn at the window, watching the cars.

 
          
Ketter
wouldn't get off the damn fence, even though a coup like this would move him up
and put Gerry in this very office. Gin would be proud of him, Senator Marsden
would be grateful, and he'd have more time to devote to Martha. And to Gin.

 
          
Christ,
he wanted this.

 
          
"So
what do we do? Wait until Senator Marsden keels over?"

           
"If he does, at least we'll
know what to look for, and where to look for it."

           
Gerry shot him a skeptical look.

 
          
"I
know, I know," Ketter said. "That won't do Marsden much good. But I
won't go off half-cocked and embarrass the Bureau." All right, Gerry
thought. If reason doesn't work, how about a threat?

 
          
"I
know one thing, Marvin. Anything happens to Marsden, Dr. Panzella's going to be
screaming bloody murder. She's on Marsden's staff. Don't think she won't tell
the press and Congress and anyone else who'll listen that she warned the FBI
but we ignored her. You're worried about embarrassment, think about that."
Ketter's eyebrows met again in the middle as he rubbed his jaw.

 
          
He's
almost there, Gerry thought. Just one more nudge . . .

 
          
"Look,
" Ketter said. "If there was some way we could confirm the existence
of this implant without letting either Marsden or Lathram know what we're
doing, I'd go for it. But the damn thing's supposedly in his leg. What do we
do? Knock him out and drag him into a hospital and x-ray him?"

           
Gerry turned and stared at Ketter. "Yes!"

 
          
Ketter
said, "What?"

           
"I think I know how we can do
it."

TRICKS

           
GERRY RAISED HIS FIELD GLASSES AS A
SILVER-GRAY LINcoln Town Car pulled out of the driveway and turned right.
Senator Marsden sat behind the wheel. He felt the butterflies begin to flutter
against the walls of his stomach. They'd been fluttering all night. A lot hung
on this little operation. By Bureau standards it was no big deal in resources,
a couple of vehicles, a couple of field agents, a couple of civilians.

 
          
But
it was a very big deal for him.

 
          
Butterflies?
More like a couple of angry roosters going at each other.

 
          
Not
many places to hide in this section of
McLean
. Mostly open horse country, zoned for high
acreage, with big, sprawling homes set far back from the road. But Gerry had
managed to find a stand of oaks that allowed him to pull off the road and keep
an eye on Senator Marsden's driveway. Gin had called the senator's office and
learned that he was expected in sometime between eight and nine.

 
          
Even
if Gerry hadn't known his face, the white bandage on the left ear would have
confirmed the ID. And he was wearing his seat belt.

 
          
Great.

 
          
A
sensible man. He glanced at his watch,
8:05
Prompt too.

 
          
And
as usual, he was driving himself. That had been a concern. As minor as the
surgery was, there was always the possibility that the senator might order a
limo to take him to his office. Fortunately he hadn't. An extra passenger or a
different vehicle would complicate things.

 
          
Gerry
punched two buttons on his cellular phone and it called a preprogrammed number.

 
          
"Okay.
He's on his way. Using the Town Car. I'll keep you posted. " He eased his
Bureau Ford into gear and followed Marsden as he wound past horse farms and
meadows and turned north onto
Dolley Madison Boulevard
. They passed the CIA entrance and
eventually fed into the traffic on the
George Washington Memorial Parkway
. He understood why Marsden took this route.
It was beautiful. Wooded hills and vales undulated to the right, beginning
their shift into fall colors, while the tranquil
Potomac
flowed far below on the left. Across the
river the towers of
Georgetown
University
pierced the morning sky. Gerry's tension
mounted as they passed under
Key
Bridge
. Marsden could choose from two bridges into
the District from here, the Teddy Roosevelt or the Arlington Memorial. If he'd
had more time, Gerry could have learned the senator's usual route, but it had
been less than twenty-four hours since the surgery. Gerry had prepared for both
routes, but he was hoping for the Memorial.

 
          
He
had to hand it to Ketter. Once his SSA got moving, he moved.

 
          
They'd
spent a lot of overtime last night getting approvals, securing personnel and
equipment, but by seven this morning, everything was in place, waiting.

 
          
When
he saw Marsden go past the off-ramp for the Teddy, Gerry relaxed a little. But
only a little.

 
          
He
called in again.

 
          
"Okay,
folks. He's right on course. Hitting the Memorial bridge now. Everybody be
ready to roll as soon as he hits Constitution." Gerry didn't hang up this
time, but kept the channel open as he passed the Seabees Memorial and cruised
between the granite bald eagles that flanked the entry to the bridge. The
massive white marble box of the Lincoln Memorial squatted directly ahead on the
far side, and the
Washington
Monument
loomed to his right. He followed Marsden
around the
Lincoln
and onto the Henry Bacon diagonal to
Constitution.

 
          
As
a dark wedge of the Vietnam Wall in its depression slipped past on his right,
he said, "Coming to Constitution. Go!" And now those stomach roosters
were really kicking up. Timing was crucial here. It had to go down within the
next few blocks, but the Bureau's stunt driver had to wait for an opportunity.
Not only did he have to make contact, but he had to get away.

 
          
A
Nova . . . he'll be driving an old blue Chevy Nova.

 
          
Cruising
with the commuters as they paced the
Potomac
along
Constitution
Avenue
, Gerry's gaze roamed side to side, flicked from mirror to mirror. Then
he spotted the car, weaving through the traffic behind him. He pulled over to
let it pass. A brief glimpse of the driver showed a knitted cap pulled low over
the forehead, an old flannel shirt with the collar up. Gerry couldn't help a
nervous smile.

 
          
Trevor
Hendricks looked to be anything but a special agent.

 
          
"Don't
miss, Hendricks," he whispered. "Please don't . . . miss."

 
          
Gerry
chewed his lip as he watched Hendricks edge nearer the senator's car, looking for
his chance. He found it at Eighth, across from the Department of the Interior.
Marsden was just pulling up to a red light when the Nova lunged ahead and
swerved into the senator's Town Car.

 
          
Only
a glancing blow but enough to cave in the left front fender. The
Lincoln
lurched to a halt while the Chevy burned
rubber and peeled off down Constitution.

 
          
Gerry
pulled to a halt directly in front of the senator and - trotted back to his
window.

 
          
"You
okay?"

           
"Yes," said Marsden,
looking a little pale and shaken, but apparently uninjured. "Did you see
that crazy son of a bitch?"

           
Gerry stared down Constitution and
saw the Nova make a right onto 17th.

 
          
Hendricks
would dump the car there, mingle with the tourists gathering around the
Washington
Monument
, then walk the few blocks back to the
Bureau. The car was a gift from the DEA, the unregistered, confiscated property
of a drug mule.

 
          
"Saw
the whole thing." He pulled a card from his pocket.

 
          
"If
you need a witness, say . . . aren't you Senator Marsden?"

           
"Yes. Yes, I am." Gerry
thrust his card through the open window.

 
          
"Canney.
Special agent FBI. I'll call this in." Without giving Marsden a chance to
reply, Gerry whipped out his cellular phone, flipped it open, and turned his
back to the senator as he pretended to make a call.

 
          
"The
police should have someone here in a second," he said, turning back to the
car. "You're sure you're all right?"

           
"Positive. Look, we're
blocking traffic here. Why don't I just pull ahead and see if I can get off the
road."

           
Gerry looked back and saw that
they'd created a minor traffic jam by reducing inbound traffic from three lanes
to two. But he didn't want Marsden going anywhere.

 
          
"Don't
know if that's such a good idea. Let me take a look at the damage here."
He stepped toward the front fender and bent over it.

 
          
Hendricks
had done a perfect job, the metal was folded in against the tire.

 
          
"I
don't think you're going anywhere, sir." As he straightened he saw Marsden
starting to get out. Gerry stepped up and gently eased him back into his seat.

 
          
"Maybe
you shouldn't move just yet, Senator."

 
          
"I'm
perfectly all right. It was just a fender bender."

           
Gerry stood firm, blocking the door
with his body. "Still, sir, I think it would be smarter and safer if you
moved as little as possible until help arrives."

 
          
"Don't
be ridiculous! I'm perfectly fine and fully capable of," A blue and white
unit roared up then, sirens wailing, lights flashing, followed closely by an
ambulance and a mobile ICU, all with the Bureau.

 
          
The
senator was adamant against being taken to the hospital. He protested
vigorously, but since his car wasn't going anywhere, and since the cop and the
E.M.Ts weren't taking no for an answer, and G.W.U hospital was only six blocks
up the street, he finally relented.

 
          
As
the ambulance wailed off, Gerry leaned back against the
Lincoln
's damaged fender and took a deep, relieved
breath. The diciest part was over, and Marsden had come through without a
scratch.

 
          
Did
it!

 
          
Christ,
what a feeling. Almost like sex. If he smoked he'd be reaching for a cigarerte.

 
          
But
now came the most important part, finding that implant.

 
          
Gerry
hoped to God it was findable. Because if they missed it, there was going to be
hell to pay.

 
          
Gin
huddled in the dictation area of the records room and pressed the receiver
against her ear to keep any trace of Gerry's voice from escaping.

 
          
She
hadn't wanted to come in today, but Gerry had thought it best not to deviate
from her routine.

 
          
"All
right," Gerry said. "We've got the senator here in the emergency
room. Let me just go over this again to make sure there's no mistake. We're all
set up to do a magnetic resonance image of his right leg. That's what we want,
right?"

           
"Right. An MRI with special
attention to the lateral midthigh. Tell them to look for the healing puncture
wound in the skin. The implant should be somewhere within a three- or four-inch
radius from there."

          
 
"Okay. Just triple-checking."

 
          
"And
Gerry." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Don't let anyone use an
ultrasound to find it, okay? Sometimes they use ultrasound to locate foreign
bodies in soft tissue, but don't let them. Don't let anyone even near him with
an ultrasound." Diagnostic ultrasound used a tiny fraction of the power of
the therapeutic modality, but why chance it?

 
          
"Okay.
No ultrasound. Look, I've got to run. We should have the answer soon."

           
"Call me."

 
          
"Soon
as I can. Once we identify it, we've got to tell Marsden and convince him it
should come out immediately. That may not be so easy."

 
          
"Just
save him, okay?"

           
"I'm doing my damnedest."

 
          
"I
know you are. Love you." He was silent a moment, probably as surprised as
Gin herself that she'd come out and said that. Where had it come from?

 
          
From
the heart, I guess, she told herself.

 
          
"I
feel the same way," he said, and she had to smile. He probably had a dozen
other agents around him. "Let's get together after the dust settles here.
We need to talk."