“He’s good,” the man inside the cube said.
By the time Shaw stepped through, the man in the BDUs had already placed everything by his attaché case into a black bag, zipped it up, and stuffed it into a locker.
Shaw clipped the badge to his lapel, grabbed his case from the belt, and stepped to the mahogany door to his front. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever lay on the other side, and then grabbed the handle.
Compared to the austere antechamber, the interior of the Senate Intelligence Committee SCIF—or Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility—looked like any other meeting room in the building. Same mahogany wainscoted walls, burgundy carpet, and horseshoe table at the front of the room.
Shaw made his way to the solitary table in the center of the room and took a seat. He placed his attaché case on the floor and was turning his attention to the men seated before him when Senator Landon Miles rapped the gavel against the sounding block and called the Senate Intelligence Committee to order.
“Director Shaw, there are three reasons you have been called before this committee today. The first is the memo you submitted at the beginning of the month regarding the Gen 4 program. Do you recall that memo?”
“Yes, sir, I have a copy here,” Shaw answered, pulling a stack of files from his attaché case and placing them on the table.
“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but six months ago you advised this committee that by the end of the year the Gen 4s would be operational,” Miles said, pausing his attack to consult his notes. “I believe your exact words were, ‘They will be ready to kick ass and take names.’ Do you remember saying that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But according to your latest timeline you now require an additional six months. Why is that?”
“Well, Senator, it’s not like we are making license plates.”
“Excuse me?”
Dammit, c’mon, Levi, get your head out of your ass.
“My apologies, Senator, what I meant to say was that turning a man into a weapon takes time, especially taking into account certain abnormalities we found with the Gen 3s.”
“You’re talking about Adam Hayes. Am I correct?”
All it took was one look at the senator’s face, the triumphant jut of his jaw, and Shaw knew that he’d screwed up. Let his focus slip just long enough to walk right into the chairman’s trap.
Got to get ahead of him, redirect the conversation.
But before Shaw had a chance, Senator Miles leaned forward in his chair, his eyes hungry as a starved wolf. “Since you brought it up, Director Shaw, I don’t think my colleagues would object if we put a pin in that first question and cut to the real reason I called you here this morning.”
Shaw reached instinctively for the bottle of water sitting next to his microphone, mentally preparing himself for the question he knew was coming.
“I would also like it clearly noted in the record that this is the last time I am going to ask you this question—do you understand that, Director Shaw?”
“Yes, sir,” Shaw replied, twisting the cap free and taking a drink.
“Good, now, for the last time, where in the hell is Adam Hayes?” Miles asked, his voice cold as a knife.
Shaw swallowed the mouthful of water and was returning the bottle to its place when his mind drifted back to the last time he saw Adam Hayes. The memory was crystal clear, every emotion, every angry word etched painfully in his mind.
He hadn’t wanted it to go down the way it had, but Hayes had left him with little choice.
* * *
—
“Either you come in, or I will send a team to bring you in,” he’d told him over the phone.
“Are you threatening me, Levi?”
“No, Adam, we are way past that point.”
“Somewhere public, where I can see you and you can see me.”
“The bridge at Rock Creek, two hours.”
“I’ll be there.”
Shaw had arrived in an hour and sat on the bench at the west side of the bridge while a General Atomics MQ-9 Reaper circled silently twenty-five thousand feet above. At $15.9 million, the Reaper was the most advanced surveillance platform in the government’s arsenal. With its sophisticated ground targeting systems and APY-8 Lynx II radar the UAV was the perfect blend of technology and lethality.
Ten minutes later the operator reported in, his voice clear through the microcommunication bud pressed into Shaw’s ear.
“This is Viper two-one, we’ve finished our sweep, no contact with target.”
With the area clear, Shaw was beginning to think that Hayes had somehow detected the surveillance—knew that he was being watched and had blown off the meet.
But how?
“Because that’s what you trained him to do,” he muttered.
Shaw got to his feet and was preparing to leave when he saw him standing alone on the far side of the bridge.
“What’s this all about, Levi?”
“Are you serious?” he demanded. “Adam, you killed a United States senator in broad fucking daylight. Did you really think there weren’t going to be any consequences?”
“I did what you trained me to do,” Hayes said, voice flat, eyes cold and lifeless as a shark’s. “I did what you and everyone else up on the Hill were too scared to do.”
“You’ve got two options. You come back and go to work or . . .”
“Or what?”
* * *
—
Senator Miles’s voice shattered the memory and yanked him back to the here and now. “Director Shaw, do you need me to repeat the question?”
Shaw took a deep breath and cleared his mind, set the bottle on the table, and looked up at Senator Miles, his face unreadable.
“I have no idea, Senator,” he lied.
4
CEUTA, SPAIN
Stealing a boat hadn’t been on Hayes’s to-do list when he woke up that morning, but plans changed, and if there was one surety in this line of work it was that survivability and flexibility often went hand in hand.
By the time Hayes made it down to the alley and retrieved his bag, the sun had dropped below the horizon and the shadows were advancing across the water like a skirmish line. He shouldered the pack and started back the way he’d come, his mind on the black speedboat he’d seen from the window.
But the plan crumbled when he stopped at the mouth of the alley and stared, disbelieving, at the street.