"That may be what this other call is about. It was an ominous-sounding guy, said you would know him. He left a phone number. The name is Murray Bender."
"He's the ex-CIA man Roddy got my name from. I'd better see what he wants."
When he dialed the number, Bender answered promptly.
"This is Burke Hill. What can I do for you?"
"You can be very damned careful and try not to get yourself killed."
Burke frowned. "Would you like to clarify that?"
"I think you know that I deal in information. I have all kinds of clients, legitimate and otherwise. I just had a request from a guy who calls himself Max. I've never met him, have no idea what he looks like. I only know him by reputation. He's a hit man. Noted for using explosives. A very resourceful character. He was asking for information about you."
"You mean there's a contract—"
"Does Adam Stern know of your connection with Colonel Rodman?"
"I'm afraid he does."
"Then he's probably responsible. Be careful, Hill. This man is deadly."
After hearing Burke's account of what he had just learned from Lori and Bender, Roddy leaned his elbows on the table and shook his head. " I'm sorry I got you into this, Burke."
"If you hadn't, the chances of stopping Nikolai Romashchuk would have been nonexistent. I'll worry about Max later. He won't find me at home. You'd better call your ex-wife. Then we need to get moving."
Roddy got Karen at the dress shop and asked about the FBI agent.
She repeated what Lila had told her. "I haven't been this frightened since the mission to Iran, Roddy. I hope this will soon be over."
"Don't worry. It's all going to work out okay." He tried to sound convincing, though he hadn't convinced himself.
"Dutch Schuler called this morning before I left. He reminded me that I had said you might be here for the Fourth."
"What did you tell him?"
"I said I didn't know. You might. He left his number at the transient quarters at Andrews. Wanted you to call if you came in."
"I'd like to talk to him, but it would be damned risky at this point."
After giving him the number, she added in a pleading voice, "Don't take any unnecessary chances."
Driving the brown Honda Roddy had picked up in Knoxville, which fortunately had West Virginia plates, Burke and his two companions stopped at a Wal-Mart and a military surplus store to replenish their wardrobes. When they started out for the neighborhood where Advanced Security Systems was located, Walt Brackin's ten-speed bike protruded from the trunk. Burke was dressed in blue shorts and a white T-shirt emblazoned with "NAVY" in large blue letters. He wore large, dark sunglasses and a black baseball cap. Rodman had become an electrician, wearing denim work pants and shirt, an assortment of tools hanging from his waist, including a large roll of black electrical tape that swung on a chain. Shumakov wore the camouflage uniform and combat boots of an Army sergeant.
They parked in front of a vacant building three blocks beyond Advanced Security. Burke unloaded the bicycle and hooked one of the small radios on his belt. He stuck the earpiece in his ear, hoping to look like a biker from the Navy Yard enjoying music while getting his exercise. He also attached a lapel mike inside the top of his T-shirt. He hadn't intended to go armed, but as a result of Bender's call, he carried a small Beretta in his pocket.
"I'll let you know if I see anything. Then we can proceed according to plan," he said as he hopped on the bike and began to pedal up the street.
Even if he had intended to do any serious biking, which he hadn't, the blazing afternoon sun assured he would attempt no speed records. He felt the perspiration trickling beneath his shirt and hoped it wouldn't foul up his microphone.
The street had a mixture of modest houses which served as single or multi-family residences and larger ones that had been converted to business use. Two pre-teen black boys soon roared up on their smaller bikes and grinned at him.
"Whatcha listening to, admiral?" one of them asked as he paced himself alongside Burke.
"It ain't rock and it ain't rap," Burke said with a chuckle. "Actually, I'm listening to Beethoven. Ever heard of him?"
The other boy stuck his nose in the air and went, "Da-da-da-dum!" Burke laughed as they raced ahead, shouting at each other. At the next corner, he turned and headed up the street that ran alongside the fenced storage yard. When he reached a point where he could see the rear of the security firm building, he cut his eyes to the side while keeping his face pointing straight ahead. He pressed a button on the radio and began talking as though singing along with the music.
"The door to the shop area is open. Looks like the blue minivan is inside. The yellow dump truck's parked in back. It has some lettering on the door but I can't make it out." He turned to look at the buildings on the other side of the street. "There's a small appliance repair shop across from it, Roddy, with a driveway at the side. Doesn't look like it's open. If you could come in from the back, you ought to find a spot where you could use the glasses and the camera. For one thing, I'd like to know what it says on that truck."
Roddy acknowledged, then passed the word along to Yuri. Since this was his first time to see the area, except on a map somewhat lacking in detail, he would depend on Shumakov to lead him in.
Yuri began walking quickly down the street, with Roddy following on the opposite side. When they reached an alley that should run behind the buildings in question, Yuri stopped and bent down to tie his shoe. He looked up as Roddy caught up with him.
"It should be about halfway down there," Yuri said, nodding his head toward the alley. "On the right. I will wander around here and watch for Burke."
As Roddy walked down the alley, he noticed some of the structures had fences in back, others were open. High weeds grew along the property line much of the way. He saw a couple of sweating black men toiling over on an old car behind a two-story brick house. One of them glanced up momentarily, then resumed his effort to free a recalcitrant bolt.
Along the middle of the block, he came to a large white frame structure with an asphalt driveway that ran from the alley to the street. This must be it, he thought. There were no vehicles around. About two-thirds of the way up, a large tree stood beside the driveway. It would provide a convenient cover for viewing the fenced enclosure across the street. Seeing no one around, he walked quickly up the driveway and ducked behind the tree. He took a pair of small, compact binoculars from his pocket and focused on the lot across the way.
His eyes swept the area until the enlarged circles picked up the yellow truck. He zeroed in on the door and read:
Department of Public Works
Water and Sewer
Accompanying the lettering was the "stars and bars" of the District of Columbia's flag.
Roddy stashed the binoculars away and took out a small camera that Burke had briefed him on. It was more compact and less conspicuous than the Nikon. He shot a few frames, then held up the radio and reported what he had seen.
"A D.C. waterworks truck?" Burke asked in reply.
"That's what it says."
"Is the minivan still inside the shop?"
"It was, but it's just backing out now."
"Who can you see around there?"
"There's one, two, three… looks like all five of the South Americans. It's the Major behind the wheel. Wait. Now he seems to be bending over in the back. What the…?"
When Roddy paused, Burke asked, "What's going on?"
"Looked like a long burst of exhaust. Now it's just drifting back like a white cloud, almost like fog."
Back on the street corner a block and a half away, where the blue-and-white-clad biker stood giving directions to the Army sergeant, Burke was chafing at his inability to see what was happening. Too bad he hadn't provided a small TV "palmcorder" with short-range transmitting capabilities instead of just a radio. He told Shumakov what Roddy had reported.