16 Dark Zone by Jeff Rovin & George Galdorisi

Author:Jeff Rovin & George Galdorisi [Rovin, Jeff & Galdorisi, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Washington, D.C.

June 3, 5:35 AM

Brian Dawson slept on the Delta flight that left New York’s LaGuardia Airport promptly at 5:45 AM. It wasn’t a long nap—the plane touched down at Reagan National a little over an hour later—but it was irresistible and it took the edge off.

While Mike Volner had gone over to the W Hotel on Albany Street, Dawson ended up there only after accepting an invitation to drinks from a deputy mayor, who wound up leaving the hotel only after Volner called to tell Dawson that the NYPD escort to the airport was already downstairs. He had just enough time to shower and throw on fresh clothes from his go-bag.

Volner was quiet as Dawson got into the sedan provided by the mayor’s office. He immediately recognized his companion’s expression. He’d seen it dozens of times.

“You did the only thing you could have,” Dawson told him.

“Sure, same as other times,” Volner said. “I’ve never liked it, though. It never bothered you?”

“Of course,” Dawson said, then flopped back in the seat. “‘It,’” he went on. “Neutral word for a shitty but necessary act. You know what I really hated about it, Major? The fact that there was never any time to think. That, not the deed itself, is what leaves you second-guessing every time you remember it.”

“I can’t disagree,” Volner admitted. “Killing that reflex to hesitate was the toughest thing I had to overcome. I was always fast. I was always accurate. But I wasn’t always sure.”

“That there was no other way?” Dawson said. “That guy, every guy we’ve faced, was in a business where they knew that call might one day be made against them. They’d have made it against us. I look at this as you saved a man’s life. I’m not saying you have to smile about it, but one of our guys is alive and one of their guys isn’t. A man, might I remind you, who had already killed two people for breakfast and lunch.”

“Like I said, I’m not lamenting the kill,” he told Dawson, pointedly avoiding the euphemism. “I just get stuck in that microsecond.” He shrugged. “It comes with the uniform and the oath.”

Dawson nodded, then frowned as he remembered something he’d half noticed getting into the car. He sat up and looked over his shoulder, out the smoky black rear window. “Who’s in the other car? Those are federal plates.”

“Ambassador Flannery,” Volner replied without turning.

Dawson looked at him. “What did I miss?”

“Chief called last night, didn’t want to leave a message on your phone,” Volner said. “He spoke with his boss and we’re amping up involvement. We’ll need someone who speaks the language.”

Dawson shook his head. “Guess I’m not the only one who didn’t sleep last night.”

Volner gave him a look. “I was up, too, taking the calls you didn’t, working out a report.”

“Mike, I’m not going to apologize for that,” Dawson said. “We earned our pay and a little R and R yesterday. I’ll sleep on the way, be fresh as a newborn when we arrive.

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