Splitting Washington by Daniel Koehler

Author:Daniel Koehler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: suspense, terrorism, biracial, offbeat, political thrillers, election campaigns
Publisher: Daniel Koehler

* * *

Weaving through the Monday evening traffic on “M” Street, Rashaad ducked the Lexus into the parking garage. Strange, he thought. His Anacostia contact hadn’t called yet to arrange payment of the other half of the kidnap fee.

He pulled into one of the suite’s reserved underground parking places and cut the engine. Scanning his cell phone for text messages, he found none. “Screw it,” he said aloud and dialed D’Ondre Villiers’ number in Anacostia.

“Where do we stand?” Rashaad demanded.

“No word yet.”

“What?” Rashaad’s brow knotted. “I thought we agreed time was of the essence?”

“Look, I don’t know what happened,” D’Ondre said, his voice agitated. “The crew hasn’t reported back yet. I can’t call them because I told them ‘no cell phones’ for security reasons. I don’t want any of this getting back to me.”

“Christ,” Rashaad said. “This was supposed to be simple.”

“I know, I know,” D’Ondre said. “Look, I’ll get people over there to sniff around.”

“Don’t bother. I’m here. I’ll do it.” Rashaad clicked off abruptly. He had rented the suite himself in the name of the Keynes for President Campaign and had a spare key.

Not a good sign, he thought as he fumbled to unsnap his seat belt. If the mission had been completed successfully, wouldn’t the crew show up immediately to get paid? And then, too, there was the matter of Abernathy. He couldn’t expect to keep an expensive operative like him on hold indefinitely.

Rashaad slammed the door of his gleaming black sedan and walked to the garage elevator.

When he stepped out into the building’s sumptuous lobby, he saw a brigade of police milling about, cordoning off the area.

“What happened?” he asked a uniformed policeman at the periphery.

“Double homicide,” the black cop said.

“Where?”

“Fifth floor.”

Oh God, they killed her. They killed my darling Libby.

Rashaad felt a torrent of sweat pooling at his brow. His heart pounded like an incessant kick drum.

“Officer,” he pleaded, pulling the cop’s arm, “my daughter lives on the fifth floor. Was one of the victims a young woman?”

“Please remove your hand, sir,” the cop replied, giving Rashaad a cold stare.

“I’m sorry, Officer,” Rashaad gasped. “It’s just that she’s—”

The black cop drew his face close and whispered. “Don’t tell nobody I told you this, aw-ite?”

Rashaad nodded.

“Two bruthas from Anacostia got tagged, execution style, in number 535,” the cop said. “Is that her apartment?”

Rashaad knew it was but dissembled. “No,” he said. “Thank God.” His eyes vacillated as he tried to think through his situation.

If he admitted it was her apartment, the police would question him as well as her and the jig would be up. Libby would be linked to him and, by proxy, to Maynard.

The cop looked Rashaad up and down.

Rashaad took off his watch cap and sunglasses to help allay the D.C. cop’s obvious suspicion.

“Thank you, my brother,” Rashaad said as he took his leave. “Thank you so very much.”

As he walked back to his Lexus in the garage, his rage grew steadily. They botched it. A simple grab and drop.

Rashaad dialed D’Ondre. There would be hell to pay.

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