She did. “Will you lend me a gun, Hurley? I know it’s madly illegal, but I’m scared. Ever since they attacked me in my bedroom and I nearly died, I’ve been scared. I hate feeling helpless. Please, Hurley. You said you’d teach me to protect myself, but how can I when you know they will have guns and all I could do is give them a kick in the chest? I’d be dead by the time that happened. Dillon and Sherlock wouldn’t give me a gun, andyou know Rome won’t. What good is all my training if I don’t have one?”
Hurley started to shake his head, reconsidered. He said slowly, “This is why you came back so soon, isn’t it? I’ll bet you convinced Agent Foxe it was a great idea for him to meet me, discuss his ideas about protecting you, keeping you safe. You already know you can never be completely safe unless he takes you to a safe house or into a cave. But you came to talk me into giving you a gun. I’ll bet my Sunday socks he knows you’re keeping something from him.”
She shook her head. “No, no, really, I did want you two to meet, wanted to know what you thought of him. And there’s no way Rome knows what I’m asking you. I can be very subtle, Hurley.”
“My best advice to you, Elizabeth, is to trust Agent Foxe and Agent Savich. I’ve studied Foxe all day, watched how he dealt with my students, how he dealt with you. He respects your abilities and I know he’s well trained. He’ll use that to deal with any trouble that comes.”
She touched his arm. “He isn’t Superman, Hurley, he’s only one person, well trained or not, just as I am. The difference between us? His Glock. You’re my only hope. I already asked Dillon and Sherlock. I could buy a knife, but what good would that do me? Please, Hurley.”
He saw fear in her eyes, fear he hadn’t seen since her first days with him. He understood. Without another word, he unlocked the big gun cabinet behind his desk, perused the score of handguns neatly slotted in it, next to the AK-47 and the Browning long gun, old, graceful, and deadly. He pulled out a small pistol, racked the slide, handed it butt first to her. “It’s a Ruger sub-compact chambered in .380 ACP rounds, only thirteen ounces loaded. It’ll fit in your jacket pocket or clipped to your waistband or belt or an ankle holster. Here’s a waist clip if you want to use it.”
Her own weapon, at last. “It’s so small.”
“Not good for distance, but you know that. It’s a last-ditch weapon.”
She clipped the holster to her belt, slipped in the Ruger. She hugged him. “Thank you, Hurley. You know you can trust I’ll be careful with it, you trained me.”
“Don’t let Agent Foxe see it or he might throw you in a D.C. jail. And then come back for me. I don’t want to leave Angelique running the camp; she’d do a better job, and then where would I be?”
“Even jail would be better than feeling helpless. You could be right about Angelique, she’s got serious moves, as you Yanks say. You ready for one of her cinnamon buns?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
On the road to Savich’s house
Washington, D.C.
Thursday evening
By the time Elizabeth and Rome said their goodbyes and started back to Georgetown, the daylight was vague and shadowy, not quite yet swallowed into darkness. It was only when they were inside the Beltway that Rome spotted a large black SUV three cars behind them. In the next block, it moved up to two cars behind them. Were they waiting for full-on darkness to make their move? There would soon be fewer people on the road, but they were in Washington now, the traffic still fairly thick. What were they planning? To gun them down in a drive-by? Rome shot a sideways look at Elizabeth, saw she was staring out the window at nothing in particular, deep in thought.
He said, his voice matter of fact, “Don’t look back, but we’re being followed.”
Elizabeth said calmly, “The SUV? Yes, I saw them. Hurley taught me to practice spotting a tail, as you call it. How could they have found me so quickly? I’ve only been here in Washington two days.” She heard fear seeping into her voice and wanted to kick herself. She drew three slow, deep breaths. She had a gun, she could use it. She could kick the crap out of anyone, if given the chance.
Rome took a right turn, wound through a neighborhood of apartments, then another right. The SUV stayed two cars back. He saw two people in it, but couldn’t make out their faces.
He whipped the Range Rover into another right turn. Rome kept his voice easy, as if they were on their way to the beach. “It means there’s a leak in London and someone followed us to Hurley’s camp. That’s right, keep an eye on them in the side mirror.”
A leak? In Deputy Director Eiserly’s section at MI5? How could that be? Not important at the moment. She looked at the SUV behind them.
“Can you describe them?”
Time to prove she was competent, time to test her mettle, time to be ready for anything. Her voice was sharp and crisp. “All I can see are two people in ball caps and sunglasses.” She paused, added, “Hurley taught me defensive driving. If you’d like to stop, get your gun ready, we could trade places.”
The blonde with the fishbone braid, not to mention the aristocratic voice, she wanted to drive? He didn’t laugh, because he wasn’t stupid. She was probably very good after three months with Hurley. He shot a look at her. “Sorry, we can’t stop.” He saw a green light ahead turn yellow, waited until it was on the edge of red, and peeled off into a fast left turn. The SUV behind them got stuck behind a small Fiat that had stopped at the light. In the next instant, the SUV jumped the sidewalk, knocked down a row of mailboxes, flattened an urn of flowers, and bounced back down onto the street behind them.
Rome grinned. He hadn’t been in a car chase since the academy, a wild ride he’d managed to win. “Looks like they’re finished pretending. Hang on, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her chest, but she was more excited than scared. She felt the Ruger snug in her jacket pocket. “Should I call the police, or Dillon? Where are we going?”
“To the old warehouse district near Union Market. Less traffic there, more room to maneuver. There’s no time to call, this is going to go down right now. You okay?”
“I trained for this, Rome. Remember?”
Rome grinned at her, whipped the Range Rover left, and headed toward smaller, less-traveled streets, the SUV fishtailing behind them. He took a fast right off Brentwood toward the warehouse district, whipped left again into an open loading zone.
Elizabeth shouted, “They’re still coming, thirty yards behind us.” She didn’t take out her Ruger, saving it for a closer target. She grabbed the chicken stick, gripped it tight.Focus, focus, this is what you trained for.She kept her voice precise. “The driver still has dark glasses and a cap on, so I can’t say much about him, but the passenger isn’t wearing sunglasses now. He looks forty, dark skinned, can’t tell about his eyes. Rome, he’s got an assault rifle. He’s getting ready to fire.”
