Tony Ramirez turned his vintage 1998 Audi TT Coupe Roadster off Connecticut Avenue and headed for Jennings’s place. He’d only been on the road for ten minutes, but General Markus had told him that it was imperative that he get there as quickly as humanly possible. Those were the magic words. The tarp came off, the top was put up—but only because the temperature had now dropped below sixty—and traffic laws became less of a mandate, more of a suggestion.
He had been cruising on Connecticut at about sixty-five mph, weaving in and out of the light traffic. But now that he was turning off the main thoroughfare and into a series of neighborhoods, he slowed it down. The last thing he needed was to hit some dog. Or worse, a child. He shuddered a little as he thought about why people would even let their kids play outside at night.
Jennings’s house, according to the directions Markus gave him, was only another three or four blocks away. He slowed down a little more to make sure he didn’t miss any street signs. He was beginning to think that he’d somehow passed his turn when he came around a bend and saw the Y in the road that Markus had told him about. Good, he thought. Jennings’s place should be the next street up. He was already later than he wanted to be, seeing how he was the only one coming for now. The rest of the guys from the unit were all on their way, but they had been out on a training exercise when Markus called and had just gotten in. They had to check in and debrief first. Ramirez hadn’t gone with them because he had been assigned to test out a new antiaircraft weapon earlier in the day, so he was free to leave as soon as the general called.
Finally, he said to himself as he came up on the four-way stop in front of Jennings’s place. He stopped. Looked right. Looked left.
Wait. What was that?
He looked right again. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or did he just see someone sitting in a car parked on the street a little way down?
Immediately, he sensed something wasn’t right. He turned the car right—away from Jennings’s place—and started slowly down the street. As his headlights played along the cars parked on the side, he tried to recall what he’d just seen. How far down was it? Was it a car? Or was it an SUV? He had seen it so briefly, he wasn’t sure.
The street was like any other street in any neighborhood. Some people parked in their driveways. Some people parked in their garage. And people who had multiple cars—pretty much everyone, nowadays—and packed their garage full of old furniture, basketball hoops, and boxes of useless stuff, parked on the street. So there were a handful of different vehicles on either side of the road. He was pretty sure, though, he’d seen it on the left side. He slowed down to look but didn’t see anything. Maybe he imagined it. He’d already driven past the point he would’ve been able to see a person in a car—in the dark—from the stop sign. He went a little farther, just for good measure, and then turned around in a driveway and headed back.
Farid was getting nervous. Alex had told him to sit tight. She would be right back. But she had been gone now for going on twelve minutes. What was taking so long?
She had told him to get in the driver’s seat. And if he saw a car coming, to just duck down out of the way. And if she wasn’t back in fifteen minutes, then he was to drive away. She promised him she would meet him at the gas station on the corner of Connecticut and Knowles—the one they had passed on the way here.
He looked at his watch. Only one minute left. He began to argue with himself whether or not he should do as she instructed. He knew she could handle herself. But she had already been shot once in the last couple of days. He didn’t know if she would be able to get out again if something happened. No, he decided. He wasn’t going to leave. He would stay and make sure he got her out of there. He leaned over and reached inside the glove box and grabbed the .40 caliber Ruger she had put there. Alex had said not to use it unless he absolutely needed to. But he knew he would feel better if he had it in his hand.
Just as he was sitting back up, he saw a car pull up to the stop sign. He hesitated for a split second but then remembered what she had said. “If you see a car, get down.” He quickly pulled his knees up and slouched down under the steering wheel. His heart began to race. And then—headlights. He saw the lights playing against the inside of the roof of the car. And they were getting brighter. The car was coming toward him.
He pulled the slide back on the Ruger and readied himself.
He could tell the car was slowing down as it approached where he sat. The beam from the headlights moved slowly just above his head past the door, and then out the back window. The car passed him and he let out a quick breath. Then he heard it come to a stop. Only a few cars behind. His hands were beginning to shake now. He leveled the gun just above his head and was ready to pull the trigger. The car was turning around. And coming back toward him. He tried to steady himself, knowing that at any second, someone was going to rip his door open and find him there.
But it never happened. The car was going back the way it had come. He waited another couple of seconds and then slowly pulled himself up. Just enough to see over the dashboard.
Alex was in trouble.