Still on her belly, Ross was thrown forward, smacking the front seats. She slid into the armrest with Wiki piling up behind her as the driver suddenly let off the gas and cranked the wheel, spinning the SUV in a quick 180 to head toward the safe site, the Rockville Police Station less than three miles away.
Ross tried to raise her head to get a peek at what was going on, but Wiki leaned on top of her, pressing her down.
“The truck’s armored,” the agent said, her Kiwi accent stronger from the stress of battle, “but I don’t know what sort of weapons they have, ma’am. Let’s keep our coconuts down, shall we for now?”
Knight snatched up the microphone clipped to the console. “Rockville PD, Rockville PD, Fable Limo,” he said, his voice much calmer than the sweat on his upper lip made him look. He shot a backward glance at Ross while he waited for a response. “You okay, ma’am?”
“I’m fine,” Ross said. “What—”
The dispatcher cut her off.
“Fable Limo, Fable Limo, go ahead for Rockville PD.”
“Possible compromise at Fable residence,” Knight said. “We’re four minutes out, en route to your location.”
“Ten-four, Fable Limo,” the dispatcher came back. “You are clear on this end.”
As detail supervisor, Knight would have made it a point to liaise with nearby police departments and hospitals in the event their assistance was ever needed. The detail often ran drills, but they were dry runs that Ross only read about. She’d never taken the time to participate in one.
“What did you see, Adam?” she asked, still pressed down against the seat.
Knight held up his hand and continued his radio conversation. “Fable CP, Fable CP, Limo,” he said, trying to raise the command post at the residence. He cursed when there was no answer.
Brian Shumway, the agent who’d been on the bicycle, came across on the radio. His voice was breathless, but in control. “No idea what’s going on, boss,” he said. “I’m not getting the CP either — by radio or cell.”
“Tell me what you do see,” Knight said, still tapping the dashboard with his open palm, willing the Suburban to go faster.
“I count three white males,” Shumway said. “All with MP5s standing in the front yard. Barb and I have good positions about half a block out, but these guys aren’t doing a damn thing. They know we’re here, but they don’t seem to care.”
“Okay, sit tight,” Knight said. “PD will have SWAT heading your way.”
The CIA had footed the bill for a series of heavy concrete bollards to reinforce the fenced parking area behind the Rockville Police Department. They’d also paid for the steel-wedge barrier that had to be lowered to enter or exit the lot in a vehicle. Knight used a remote that looked like a garage door opener to lower the barrier when they were fifty yards away.
“PD, PD, Fable Limo,” Knight said as they spend into the parking lot, the barrier coming up behind them. “Arrival. Arrival.”
“Ten-four, Fable,” the dispatcher said. “Chief’s at the back door to bring you in.”
Ross adjusted her sweaty T-shirt and tugged at the legs of the shorts. They were fine for running, but seemed much too immodest to be wearing during an attack. She often ran in public, but wasn’t accustomed to being thought of as the director of the CIA dressed only in gym gear. Stress made her chuckle at the thought.
Knight got out of the car first, checking the surroundings to make certain they were clear before opening Ross’s door.
Disheveled or not, Ross was a professional. She put on a pleasant face for the chief as they hurried toward the open back door to the PD where the lanky man waited to greet her. He was not smiling, a fact that made both Adam Knight and Wiki stop in their tracks.
A second man Ross did not recognize, with dirty blond hair and a high forehead, stepped out from behind the chief. Rumpled as if from an all-night drinking binge, he held up both hands to say he came in peace. A cadre of three other agents, all stodgy and overfed-looking things, piled up behind the man in the wrinkled suit.
“Glen Walter,” he said. “ID Task Force.”
Ross cringed at the mention of the IDTF. She shrugged the protesting Wiki off her arm and stepped around Adam Knight. If someone had taken over the police department to ambush her, there was little any of them could do about it at this point. The fact that this was an IDTF man made her think things were even worse than that.
“Virginia Ross,” she said. “What can I do for you, Mr. Walters?”
The man’s face pulled into a half smile as he extended his hand. “It’s Walter,” he said. “There’s no ‘s.’ Madam Director, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”
Knight drew his weapon and pointed it at Walter. “You step back until I figure out exactly who you are.”
Walter raised his hands again, giving a nod to Knight’s pistol as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time. “It’s a touchy thing to serve an arrest warrant on someone when they have the luxury of a protective detail.”
“You don’t arrest a sitting director of the CIA,” Knight snapped. “Not without the President getting involved.”
“Believe me,” Walter said, still smiling a sort of smirky half grin that made Ross’s stomach sink with dread. “I wouldn’t get within ten miles of something like this without making sure all the piddly work was done up front. I’ve already taken the liberty of providing a copy of the warrant to the PD.”
Ross looked at the chief, who gave her a solemn nod. “It’s legitimate, ma’am,” he said.
“I assume those are your men back at my house,” Ross said.
“They are,” Walter said.
“Well, call them off right now,” she said. “Before we have a blue-on-blue shooting.”
“Good idea,” Walter said. Ross thought he might be from Florida or maybe Louisiana. Walter nodded to a shorter man with thinning blond hair. “Go ahead and call Benavidez.” He let his eyes play up and down Ross’s body, shaking his head. “Forgive me for saying so, but you’ve lost a heck of a lot of weight from your photographs.”
Knight, who was on the phone with CIA general counsel, stopped talking and turned to Walter. “I don’t care if you’re the President’s favorite nephew. Talk to the director like that again and I’ll kick your ass across this parking lot.” He wasn’t pointing his pistol, but he’d not gone so far as to return it to the holster in his fanny pack.
“It’s fine, Adam,” Ross said, knowing he was a half a breath away from shooting the ID agent. “Stand down.”
“A courtesy call wouldn’t have worked?” the protective agent snapped. “You’re a presidential appointee, ma’am.”
Walter gave an insolent shrug. “The United States government isn’t really comfortable giving courtesy calls to suspected spies.”
Knight held the phone away from his face a bit so the general counsel rep could hear the conversation.
“You’re arresting her for spying?”
“Violation of the Espionage Act,” Walter said, almost as an afterthought. “I’m not at liberty to get into specifics. I will say it’s a pretty serious charge, considering you’re the director of what is arguably the world’s most powerful intelligence agency. I don’t understand how a woman of your standing could—”
“Shut your mouth,” Knight said, stepping in between them again, daring the ID agent to make a move.
Ross put an arm around his shoulder. “Calm down, Adam,” she said. “There’s no doubt that this is a bizarre situation, but if he’s got a warrant, we don’t have a choice.” She turned to Walter. “I’ll go with you,” she said, “but I’ll have to call the President first.”