Just as Walsh was starting to wonder how long he’d wait, he heard some movement inside the brownstone by the front door and noticed the lights upstairs were now turned off. Almost a minute later the knob of the front door turned and the door swung outward onto the low landing.
Now he wasn’t sure what he should say or when he should say it. Agent Stratford’s back was turned to him as she secured the door, so he just cleared his throat and said, “Good morning, Agent Stratford.” He tried to keep his voice level and calm.
It didn’t work as well as he had hoped.
Standing in the courtyard in front of the café, Bill Shepherd slipped the phone into the cargo pocket of his fatigues and realized quickly this was no mistake; he was in the real shit now. He slowly started to walk backward toward the Humvee as Fannie sped up to catch him, still trying to make it look like she was waiting for a rendezvous. Her right hand was inside her purse.
He turned his head quickly and saw that the two men on the sidewalk were now almost in front of his vehicle and the man with a duffel bag was setting it on the ground. This was a tough position between two threats, and he didn’t even have his weapon in his hand yet. He quickly calculated the rounds in his pistol. One in the chamber, and he’d counted fourteen in the magazine when he checked it, securing it in his waistband. But who was the bigger threat? Two unknown men near cover, or a woman who probably had her hand wrapped around a pistol at that moment?
He tried to be casual as he let his arms drop to his side and his left hand grasped the bottom of his fatigue blouse. He was going to move quickly once he lifted the blouse and reached for the pistol. He glanced around for his own cover. The only chance he had was to dive for some heavy potted plants, and even that didn’t give him much protection.
One of the men on the street shouted something in German. He thought the man was yelling to him, then realized it was a question directed at Fannie.
Definitely not a good sign.
Fannie Legat realized something was wrong once the major started walking toward her on the concrete path that weaved between buildings from the street. He was on the phone and getting information that made him hesitate. Some instinct told her she couldn’t wait. He wasn’t going to meet her. He looked splendid in his military uniform. That would make this easier. He was even dressed as her enemy. And if he was getting information about her, she needed to stop him before he could use it. She hated the fact that she might waste an opportunity to really hurt the U.S. military.
She stepped out of the café waving to him, hoping he would overcome whatever concern he had, but instead she saw him slip the phone into the lower pants pocket of his uniform, then turn and see her associates as they approached his vehicle. Both of the men were German-born Muslims who had been part of their movement since their teens. One of the men carried the plastic explosive that was to be placed under the vehicle.
She could see the hesitation in the major’s face as he looked back and forth between her and the man. Then he started to lift his shirt, and she realized he was carrying a gun.
Typical American.
As soon as Walsh cleared his throat and said, “Good morning,” he was shocked at how quickly Agent Stratford moved. She jumped away from the locked door and fell into a crouch behind the low landing. Somehow she had pulled a pistol and had it pointed directly at Walsh’s head.
Her first words were a harsh whisper. “How in God’s name did you find me?”
“The Internet. You’d be shocked at what you can learn on a few simple sites.”
She kept her position. “Just when I was starting to think you were slick, you do something this stupid. Are you crazy? After what happened last night the entire Bureau is focused on finding you.”
“Is that why you’re getting an early start?” He realized he had inadvertently raised his hands.
Tonya Stratford slowly rose to her feet with her gun still pointed at him. She scanned the area quickly, then focused entirely on him again. “Are you alone?”
“I have a harmless old man asleep in the car. He has nothing to do with any of this other than being concerned about my safety.” He noticed her eyes track across the street, then down to where the VW was parked. He was impressed with her powers of observation.
“Turn around and place your hands against the building.”
He didn’t argue. Once his hands touched the building he felt her kick his feet back farther so he was completely off balance. She quickly used one hand to pat down his body on both sides. Then she said, “Stand up and turn around.”
She took a couple of steps away from him and let the pistol drop to her side. “Lower your goddamn hands. You look like the victim of a street robbery.”
“At least you realize I’m a victim. I didn’t move that money. Those crazy Russians kidnapped me last night. If you can get me into Thomas Brothers for ten minutes I can prove to you I’m innocent, and at the same time we’ll discover who transferred the money.”
“There are still FBI agents over at that office working. I couldn’t get you through the front door without someone raising the alarm, even if I did believe you. Why don’t you give me the plug and I’ll get it to a computer.”
“This is no offense to you personally, but I’ve been through too much the past few days to let anyone else handle the security plug.”
She nodded slowly and said, “I can see your point.”
“C’mon, Agent Stratford, let’s cut the shit. You do believe me. I could tell last night. I could tell when I called you. You know there’s something fishy going on here, and I can point you in the right direction. If all else fails you’ll still have me in custody at Thomas Brothers.”
“I have you in custody now.”
Before Walsh could answer, he heard a rough voice say, “No you don’t. Drop the pistol.”
He looked up and Charlie was standing there, pointing a pistol at the FBI agent. All he could do was cry out, “Charlie, no.”
Shepherd never panicked as he pulled the semiautomatic pistol from the leather inside-the-pants holster. Instructors at Officer Candidates School at Quantico would have fainted if they saw him carry an official sidearm in such an unorthodox and unauthorized holster. Today it did the trick perfectly. He pulled the pistol and moved quickly to dive behind the cover of the heavy potted plants to the side.
The first bullet came from the street and flew wide of his position. Fannie hadn’t started firing at him yet. Somehow, in the odd void of time in which firefights take place, he was able to think about how he wouldn’t want to shoot a woman he had feelings for. Even if she had never reciprocated them.
Then a smaller-caliber bullet struck the cement near his head. That was Fannie. She had retreated to the edge of an outdoor stairway and had heavy concrete protecting her. He thought she was firing a .380. Not that the smaller caliber wouldn’t kill him if she found her target, but for right now he was focusing on the man with a 9 mm who was standing in front of his Humvee and apparently didn’t think anyone would shoot back. That was a guy who had never been in combat.
Shepherd risked popping out from behind the heavy planter, aimed his pistol, and fired three times. The man had already started to fall to the ground as Shepherd ducked back behind the planter. Now he turned his attention back to the stairs where Fannie was hidden. He couldn’t see her and tried to figure out if she had changed positions. The last thing he wanted was her popping up out of nowhere with a pistol in her hand.