"D Street was a government job?"
"Once I picked up the old trade, the calls flooded in. The money was good, the work was challenging, and at some point I stopped caring if they were traitors or spies or terrorist masterminds. I was more interested in the job than the money.
"So one day I get a call from someone who knew someone who knew that someone important's wife knew that he was cheating on her, and she was going to file for divorce and bilk him for all he's worth. They, of course, needed Paul Renner to resolve the problem. It didn't even occur to me that taking that job crossed some fictional line that turned an honorable soldier into a murderer.
"They needed someone killed, so they called a killer." He felt no remorse and sadness as he said it. It was just a fact.
Jerri stared out the window for a while. Finally she spoke. "That's pretty fucked up, Paul."
"Yep," he said.
"You know, this morning I was afraid of your hands." Jerri set her hand atop Paul's. "But no matter what else you've done with them, at least today they did some good." She smiled at him with sparkling green eyes.
Paul returned the look with interest. "Today they did," he agreed.
She gave his hand a squeeze and pulled hers back, then looked out the window.
It was four in the morning when the plane landed at Dulles International Airport. The howling wind blasted freezing-cold grit in their faces as they assembled on the tarmac. It only took a moment for the government SUVs to pull up. Gene took shotgun in the first, and Renner hopped into the back seat. Jerri took the other side. Marty stepped toward that car, but Doug sidled past him and got in. That left an SUV just for Carl, Marty, and their driver. They got in, and moments later the team was on its way back into Washington D.C.
Carl ran his hand over his mostly-bald head. "I'm going to have to shave tonight. You, too, Marty. We look pretty ridiculous."
Marty didn't reply.
"Listen up, folks," Gene said over the COM. "Sam has confirmed that Doctor Lefkowitz is still in private practice in Manassas, and he's still at the address on file. He doesn't appear to be going anywhere, and we've got the local PD staking him out, so everyone head home and catch an hour's sleep. It'll take forty-five minutes to get there if we leave early, and two hours if we catch the morning rush. That means we're leaving HQ at oh-five-thirty, and you can nap in the car. We'll catch some breakfast once we get there."
Marty checked his watch. 3:47 a.m. Got to get up at 5:00. Just the thought of the early start brought a yawn. It spread to Carl, who punched him in the arm.
"Jerk," Carl said when he was able to talk again.
Marty killed his COM. "Why do you think he did it?"
Carl looked confused. "Why do I think who did what?"
"Renner. Why'd that motherfucker pull our asses out of the fire today?"
"Well," Carl said, "he probably pulled mine out because of the tragedy it would be if my dashing good looks were no longer available to the world. I don't have a clue why he rescued your ugly ass."
Marty scowled. "Be serious, Carl. He's a cold-blooded, ruthless son-of-a-bitch who murders people for a living, and he knows I'd geek him in half a second if I had the chance, and he saves my fucking life? I don't owe that fuck a goddamn thing, Carl. I won't be indebted to that piece of shit."
"Relax, Marty. I don't owe him anything either. I still don't know if working with him is a good idea, but tomorrow we're going to nab the guy who ordered those killings. That's worth something, isn't it?"
Marty looked ready to spit. "I know if it's a good idea, and it fucking isn't. I don't care who else we catch, this fish is big enough for all of us. Fuck him. Motherfucker."
"We'll take him into custody as soon as we have Lefkowitz, you know."
"That motherfucker knows it, too. He's not stupid, and he'll run. You watch, Carl. Someone's going to get hurt tomorrow, you fucking watch. We just got to make sure it's Renner."
Carl let Marty stew in his own juices for the rest of the ride.
Chapter 17
January 10th, 5:27 AM EST; J. Edgar Hoover Building, Parking Garage; Washington, D.C.
Gene yawned into his fist and watched Jerri's car pull in. It was a clear, crisp morning but not as cold as the previous day. With no wind it wasn't that bad outside, and low levels of oxycodone for pain helped his general mood. Paul Renner stepped out of the passenger side of Jerri's car and his FBI escorts out the back. Gene hobbled over to Doug. "Any idea what that's all about?"
"Don't know," Doug said. "I imagine they made arrangements to get Paul from visitor parking to here. So Jerri must have met him there. I'll ask Valiera."