“Yes. I know you’re on site.”
Vail looked around, her eyes trying to locate a camera — but she did not see one. “You do?”
Then she remembered the ShotSpotter system installed around the district: hundreds of acoustic sensors designed to capture and instantaneously pinpoint certain sound frequencies, in particular those of gunfire.
“I need you to secure the scene.”
Vail jerked her head around as sirens blared in the distance. It was muted, but she definitely knew the unmistakable cry of a law enforcement vehicle. “Metro PD’s gonna be here in seconds. Why do you need me to—”
“You are to take control of that scene. Not Metro PD.”
“But s—”
“No buts. Listen to me, Agent Vail. You are to take control of that scene on my authority.”
“Okay, but—”
“This is the time to follow orders and not ask questions. Can you do that?”
“Of course.” Who am I kidding? Hopefully the director.
“Harlon Filloon, the downed man, is an agent. You’re to protect his identity and keep others — meaning police, medical examiners, forensic personnel — away from his body.”
“Yes sir.”
“Send Agent Hernandez home. And tell him not to talk with anyone about what he just saw.”
“Send him home?”
“I don’t have time to repeat my orders. Do as you’re told. I’ll be in touch.”
“Yes sir.”
“We’ve dispatched a team that’s four minutes out. Let them in. No one else is to enter that scene. No one. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Who was that?” Robby asked as Vail shoved the phone back in her pocket.
“You need to leave,” she said, still trying to process what Knox told her — attempting to read between the lines, attempting to understand, attempting to clear her head of the fog induced by the blast. “Go home.”
Robby tilted his head. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I can’t say anymore. And you can’t either. Not to anyone.” She started toward the end of the block, where she had been standing when she pulled the trigger. “Just listen to me. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“What the hell’s going on? Why do I need to go home?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve got my orders. And—”
“Your orders are to send me home?”
“Yes. And it’d be best for you to listen.”
“Karen—”
“Robby, please. Let me deal with this and we’ll sort it out later, okay?”
Jonathan. What are the chances he was on this block at this exact moment when the bomb exploded? C’mon, Karen. Don’t be ridiculous. Ridiculous or not, she wanted to be certain her son was safe. “And check in on Jonathan. Make sure he’s okay.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably at a bar with some friends.”
“A bar? What the hell are you—”
“He’s in college. That’s what college students do.”
“Just call him. No — text him, make sure he’s okay. Humor me.”
“Fine.” Robby backed away, then slowly disappeared into the mass of people staring at the destruction — but keeping their distance, afraid to approach.
Vail did not like being rude to Robby, but what else could she do? When the boss of all your bosses ordered you to do something, you did it, right? Actually, I’d better not answer that.
As she was taking a quick survey of the area, getting a feel for what she was dealing with and making sure no one approached the scene, a police car pulled up behind her. “Police! Don’t move.”
You’ve gotta be kidding me. Vail turned slowly, hands up, and identified herself. “I’m a federal agent. I’m gonna remove my creds,” she said, carefully extracting her Bureau ID and then holding it up. “I’ve taken control of the scene and I need you to clear the area. I’m under orders from FBI Director Douglas Knox. This is a federal investigation, a matter of national security.”
The cop clicked on his tactical flashlight and pointed it at her face.
“Turn that goddamn thing off,” Vail yelled. “Notify all responding units to establish a larger perimeter and evacuate any restaurants or residences in a two-block radius.”
“I don’t take orders from you. This is our jurisdiction—”
“Look, I’m just doing as told. You need to do the same. Tell your lieutenant to contact Director Knox’s office. Let the brass fight it out.”
The officer seemed to think that was a good idea because he pulled his radio and began speaking into it — hopefully conveying what she had said and not requesting reinforcements for dealing with a deranged redhead with stolen FBI creds standing in the middle of a potential crime scene.
While the cop jabbered into his two-way, a couple of large black unmarked cabover vans pulled up, two or three dozen personnel hopping out the back doors dressed in dark tactical coveralls with white luminescent block letters spelling POLICE.
“You Vail?” a man with a square jaw asked as he approached.
“Who are you?”
“The director told me to touch base with you. We’ll secure the perimeter. He wants you to start your investigation.”
My investigation? “Right.”
He seemed satisfied with that response because he turned and headed toward the knot of similarly attired officers who were moving gawkers away from the scene.
A moment later, Vail felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw one of the men holding up a jacket. “You’ve gotta be freezing.”
Must’ve heard my teeth chattering. “Thanks so much. You’re my hero.”
The man nodded curtly. As Vail snuggled into the coat, her cell vibrated with a text from Robby:
jonathans fine. hes at a bar. told you.
She dashed off a quick thanks as a red Corvette pulled up. She knew that car, which now bore a personalized plate: BLACK 1.
The vehicle came to an abrupt stop and Hector DeSantos got out of the driver’s seat, dressed in a leather jacket and wearing small metal rimmed glasses.
“Hector, what the hell’s going on?”
“Nice to see you too. Knox is on his way with some intel. Other than that, you probably know more than I do.”
Vail gave him a dubious look. But before she could reply, a DC Fire Chief vehicle — and two engine companies — arrived, their diesel engines and airbrakes making it difficult to speak at normal volume.
They watched as three members of the tactical team approached the commander. A healthy helping of testosterone flew in both directions, Vail catching snippets of the argument. Finally the chief backed away, promising to escalate the matter to higher ranks — after playing his trump card that they were endangering lives by not permitting his men to check gas mains and other flammable infrastructure.
As the commander turned to make his case to his superiors over the radio, a Ford Explorer pulled in behind DeSantos’s Corvette. Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Uziel, head of the FBI’s Joint Terrorism Task Force for the Washington Metro field office, got out and headed toward them.
“Santa,” Uzi said with a fist bump against DeSantos’s closed hand. He glanced at Vail, eyes moving head to toe. “Karen. You look very nice. Did we interrupt something?”
“I was out with Robby.”
Uzi swiveled. “Where is the big guy?”
“I sent him home.” She noticed Uzi’s confused expression. “Knox’s orders.” Vail looked past his shoulder and saw the dozens of men in black outfits now establishing a physical boundary with unmarked sawhorses. I think I’m starting to see what’s going on here. “A few months ago, I’d be at a loss to explain what’s happening.”