Call to Treason - Tom Clancy [134]
Maybe that was why Paul Hood did not understand the bad judgment call he had made. He never had an Yvonne in his life. He did not understand the meaning of partnership. Maybe that was why Herbert had judged Hood so harshly. Because he did have that perspective.
And here, in the breezy quiet, where memories took form in the dark shadows beside the buildings, he had her still.
* * *
FORTY-NINE
Washington, D.C. Wednesday, 6:06 p.m.
Darrell McCaskey never thought he would be grateful for rush hour.
The highway was clogged in both directions as he picked his way through the slow-moving traffic. Herbert kept him posted on Lucy's progress.
The two cars were converging, albeit slowly. As a precaution, McCaskey called Detective Howell to have someone go to Lucy's apartment. He wanted to make certain she was not there, that the person in the car was not a decoy. Howell dispatched a squad car without comment. His emotional neutrality was not surprising. It would not have served his cause to challenge the request or to attach it to demands or guarantees. The detective was still a professional.
As McCaskey got onto 95 heading east, he was informed that Lucy's apartment was empty. She was almost certainly in the car. A minute later, Herbert came back on the line.
"You're about two klicks shy of her position," he said. "If I can make a suggestion, she has no more exits between where she is and your current position. You can get out of the car and cross the guardrail north of Springfield "
"I know the place," McCaskey said. "I can see it ahead."
The car was moving a little less than twenty-five miles an hour. He looked into the oncoming traffic as he hooked the phone on his belt. He left the line open.
"Maria, I'm going to intercept Ms. O'Connor and get her to pull over,"
McCaskey said. "We'll wait for you on the shoulder. I need you to get off at the next exit and swing around."
"You are assuming she'll stop," Maria said.
"She will," her husband said. "If she doesn't brake willingly, I'll stop the car in front of her."
"What if she's armed?" Maria asked.
"I'll keep my mouth shut tight," he replied.
Maria frowned disapprovingly. "With a gun, not a hypodermic."
"I'll watch myself," McCaskey assured her. "Crossing the highway will be the tough part."
McCaskey did not usually crack wise in situations like this. Something about Maria's gravity had touched and amused him. This was not like Madrid, where they had been former lovers as well as grumpy and reluctant allies. This was not even like the stakeout for Ed March on Monday morning. This was the first case they had worked together since getting married. Maria was showing concern. He had wanted to try to minimize that.
He kissed her cheek as he put the car in park and opened the door.
Maria maneuvered herself over the armrests and took the wheel. McCaskey ran in front of the car and waved an arm as he scooted across two lanes of traffic. Cars braked and horns whined. He swore as he reached the guardrail. The Mustang was about five hundred yards ahead, in the passing lane. He saw the passenger's side. She was traveling about twenty miles an hour, then suddenly stopped. McCaskey hoped that Lucy had not heard the commotion and saw someone coming toward her. He did not want her trying to get away on foot. She would have a considerable head start.
"Darrell, can you hear me?"
McCaskey snatched the phone. "Yeah, Bob!"
"We're getting a thermal spike from the DSP," he said.
"Meaning?" McCaskey asked just as he heard horns in the oncoming lane.
Cars around the Mustang were stopping. "Never mind," he said. "I can see it. She torched the damn thing!"
"What?"
"There's smoke coming from the closed windows!" McCaskey said. "She must have snuck out when the car stopped. Can you get a visual on her?"
"No," Herbert said. "We've got cloud cover on the natural-light camera."
"All right. Call 911. I've got to find her."
McCaskey started running. People who could not maneuver away from the Mustang