National Security

CHAPTER 34

Quinn dialed the phone to Palmer before he’d even holstered his pistol. The DNI put him on hold and made a quick call. Outside, the fighter jets pulled away, thundering back toward Langley.

Once Mahoney told everyone within earshot that the vial held sarin gas, it was a fairly simple matter to keep people away. The Metro cop handed the clear vial over without a fuss. Megan slipped it inside a padded, hard-shell plastic tube she’d brought just for that purpose. She slumped, relieved, but shaking with the knowledge of how close they’d come.

Thibodaux’s voice brought her out of her stupor.

“You okay, Doc?”

She looked up to see a wide rip in the leather of the Cajun’s motorcycle jacket, running parallel with his elbow. Another creased his thigh.

“What happened to you?”

“Turns out Kalil’s backup boys were pretty handy with their shooters.”

Jericho was already off his bike, examining the torn leather. “Are you hit?”

Thibodaux laughed. “They the ones that’s hit, beb.” He poked two fingers through the bullet holes in the jacket. “Lucky for me, I’m ATGATT.”

Mahoney raised an eyebrow.

Jericho smiled, turning to take off his helmet. He motioned a group of Japanese tourists away from the Center Café and Kalil’s bleeding corpse. “All the gear all the time.” He chuckled. “The armored riding gear Palmer had made for us saved him.”

Over the strenuous objections of the mayor of D.C., the feds — who were, after all, really the ones in charge of the capitol — had Union Station locked down for five hours while the area around Kalil was searched for other vials of virus. The body and the glass vial were placed in an airtight “coffin” and transported via armored CDC van back to the BSL-4 at Fort Detrick with a full security detail.

“Y’all hear those flyboys come by?” Thibodaux said, wiping his brow with the back of a big hand. “Talk about a close one.”

Quinn released a deep breath. “Too close.”

Megan shivered as she began to understand what they were saying. Not only had they come within the brink of exposure to a deadly hemorrhagic virus, they’d very nearly been bombed to oblivion by their own government.

“The Gang of Five?” she whispered.

“Yep,” both men said in unison.

“I think we just about got dropped in the grease,” Thibodaux said, his forehead furrowed in thought.

“When this is over”—Jericho looked at Thibodaux—“you and I need to pay a little visit to the halls of the Senate Hood and have a chat with our Gang of Five.”