Karla kept one hand knotted in Grazier’s blue blazer as she tugged the general toward the door to her right. “Stay down!” she bellowed as Grazier tried to stand. Reaching up, she opened the crash bar to the exit and did her best to propel the scrambling Grazier outside.
Then she got to one knee, rising far enough to glance around the chaotic restaurant. People screamed as they either ran for the door or cowered under tables. Chairs banged and scraped as they were overturned or flung back among the flailing bodies to create a tangle among the tables.
“Skipper!” she bellowed over the chaos. He was sprawled on his side while Savage crouched behind the table, wary eyes searching for the assailant. “This way!”
Ryan scrambled on all fours, Savage close behind. Even as she dragged them through the door, Savage seemed to be coming to his senses, asking, “What now?”
“Get the general down the stairs!” Karla pointed to where Grazier was clambering to his feet. The stairway led down to the boat dock. “Take that cabin cruiser. I’ve got the six.”
Karla waited just long enough to see Grazier start down the stairs, before she pulled her shirttail out to expose the HK .45 in its inside-the-waistband holster. Drawing the heavy pistol, she backed down the stairs, covering their retreat. Pandemonium sounded inside the restaurant.
At the dock she glanced over her shoulder, ensured that Grazier and Savage were helping Ryan into the vessel—a twenty-foot fiberglass day cruiser. Dropping a hand to the hull, she vaulted, and her feet thumped solidly onto the deck. Pushing past Grazier, she tossed Savage the pistol, ordering, “Cover us.”
Karla turned to Ryan. “Skipper, cast us off. Hurry!”
She ignored Grazier’s questions and started tossing cushions off the bench seats in the rear. Opening the compartment lids beneath, Karla discovered life jackets, fire extinguishers, and in the third, a toolbox.
This she lifted out, popped open the lid, and extracted a screwdriver and a hammer. Brushing past the stunned Grazier, she found the ignition switch where it protruded from the polished walnut instrument panel. Setting the flat blade of the screwdriver, she hammered it in, then pried the switch from the resisting wood. With a jerk she yanked the switch from its wires. She knew this one: White to white, red to red, and black to yellow. Then she touched the two red ten-gauge wires together. The inboards turned over and caught, rumbling to life.
“Skipper?” she called.
“We’re loose!” Ryan told her as he came walking down the grip strip between the cabin and gunwale.
“Loose?” she asked distastefully as she reversed the screws and throttled up. “Is that nautical terminology, sir?”
“Would you prefer untied?” Ryan asked.
She throttled down, shifted to forward, and pushed the throttles all the way open. The engines roared, and the day cruiser lumbered ahead. As she handled the wheel, Karla glanced over her shoulder in time to see the restaurant door burst open, people emerging, milling in terror, and then charging down the stairs.
By then, her stolen vessel was gaining speed, the hull slapping on the light chop. Gusts of wind tugged at her hair.
“What the hell happened back there?” Grazier demanded.
Karla told him: “Male, Caucasoid, mid-thirties, black hair, close-cropped. Stone-dark eyes and the look of a trained killer. Had a slight limp in his left leg. Feel this weather, sir? Not the sort of night for a raincoat like he was wearing, would you think? So he kind of tripped my trigger, sir. The good news is he looked right past me. The bad news? He fixed on you, sir. I moved the moment he pulled that M4 carbine out from under his coat.”
“And thank God you did,” Savage told her, handing the HK back. As she reholstered it, he told Grazier, “General, his bullet would have taken you right through the spine. As it is, I think Crab Shack’s gonna have to write off that whole chair and table.”
Grazier, still looking shaken, asked, “How did they find me?”
Karla shot him a measuring look; the glow from the instruments illuminated his worried face as she turned east into the channel. “Either they had a visual on you and observed my pickup, or they’ve got an active or passive trace on you somewhere, sir.”
“Impossible,” Grazier growled.
Savage stepped down into the cabin, emerging moments later with a pair of men’s shorts, sandals, and a bulky white shirt. “Eli, try these on.”
“What are you saying, Sam? That they’ve put a tracker in my clothes?”
“If the chief had been a half-second slower, you’d be dying or dead right now, Eli. I know you’re not going to look like any fashion plate, but you’ll stay alive for the moment.”
Grazier shot a worried glance between Ryan and Savage, then sighed, took the clothes, and stepped down into the cabin.
Karla looked up as they passed under the Key Bridge with its glowing halo of lights.
“What’s the plan, Chief?” Savage leaned forward on the padded cabin, gaze fixed on the water ahead.
“Southwest Waterfront, sir.” Karla reveled in the sensation of the cruiser as it thundered down the channel. How long had it been? Too many years in the desert, and then the hospitals, and finally Grantham. “We can ditch the boat without much comment. Best bet is the fuel dock, sir. We tie up, tell them to fill the tanks, and that we’ll be back in ten minutes. Meanwhile we just walk away. From there, we catch a cab for downtown, drop at the Willard Hotel, walk across the street to the JW Marriott, and take a cab back to the airport Hilton.”
“Good thinking.” A pause. “And good work back there, Chief.”
She rounded the navigation buoy at the mouth of the Anacostia River and throttled down as she entered the Washington Channel.
Grazier emerged, looking like a ragged tourist, and anything but a command presence. “The damned sandals are too small, the shirt’s too big. I had to use a piece of rope to tie the idiotic shorts on.”
“Toss your shirt, pants, shoes, and underwear—everything—over the side. Most likely you’re carrying an RFID, sir,” Karla added.
“What about my wallet?” Grazier looked from one to another of them. “It’s shielded.”
“You sure?” Savage asked.
“I’m not tossing my billfold. I’m not going through the hassle of the driver’s license bureau, the credit cards, the—”
Karla extended a hand. “I’ll get it back to you, sir. But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
Grazier fished his billfold from his rolled pants and laid it in her palm. He tossed the rest of his clothes overboard to wash in the wake and vanish in the dark waters.
He stiffened suddenly. “Aren’t you a thief, Chief?”
“Yes, sir.” She grinned as she slipped his billfold into a back pocket. “Among the best, sir.”
“RFID makes the most sense,” Savage told Grazier. “And DC’s a heavily monitored city. An agent could have put an active tag on you with something as simple as a touch on the back. If they could penetrate one of the sensitive security nets, they could have followed you all the way across town.”
“You’re right, of course. Believe me, RFID will be as antiquated as bar codes if entanglement . . . when entanglement is implemented.” Grazier shook his head. “Nothing will be the same.”
Karla located the fuel dock and throttled back as they passed the slow speed buoys. At the dock, Ryan stepped across and began tying them up. Karla pulled the wires apart, killing the engines. She jumped out, offered Grazier a hand, and pulled the general from the cruiser. Then she led them to the office with its soda coolers and fishing tackle. After placing her order with the teenager at the pump, she led the way down the gently undulating dock, up the stairs, through the bustle of the Promenade, and onto Maine Avenue.
“What about my wallet, Chief?” Grazier asked after they’d hailed a cab. “If it’s active, they’re following us right now.”
“While we’re at the Willard, I’ll FedEx it to your address from the business center, sir.”
“Clever,” he told her. Then he looked at Savage and Ryan. “Gentlemen, this is war. I’ve got budget and clearance for black-on-black operations. Sam, you’re in command. Ryan’s your number two. A package will be delivered to your hotel room tomorrow morning. It will contain authorizations, credit cards, and special clearance IDs. Present those at any military installation in the country, and you’ll get immediate assistance. No questions asked.”
“What about oversight?” Savage asked.
“That’s my responsibility, and I’ll be attending to that little problem soonest. Here’s the thing: If Gray is really trying to go back and change the past, we have to stop her.” His gaze hardened. “Your people can do that, can’t they, Sam? Stop her?”
“My . . . people?” Savage cried in dismay. “Sir, they’re mental patients!”
Ryan ignored Savage, saying, “We can take down Skientia and stop Gray. Right, Chief?”
“Hope so, sir,” Karla said thoughtfully. “Because we’re only a half step ahead of them at the moment. And we’ll know the instant they catch up.”
“How’s that, Chief?” Grazier’s voice was like flint.
“Because we’ll be dead, sir.”