Randi tried to get hold of him but he was already toppling backward off the bike. She slammed on the rear brake and skidded into a ninety-degree stop, looking back at him lying in the street. Two men were running in their direction from a black Audi parked horizontally across the road. One stopped to take aim at her.

Yoshima managed to prop himself on an elbow and wave her off with a smile full of bloody teeth.

Her purse was hanging across her back and she instinctively reached for it but, again, stopped herself. She couldn’t shoot these sons of bitches, and that made getting to Yoshima impossible.

With no other alternative, she planted a foot and twisted the throttle again, spinning the bike 180 degrees before accelerating toward an alleyway. Hopefully, it would give her cover from the chopper she could hear approaching from the north.

22

22

Alexandria, Virginia
USA

Jon Smith kept his pace slow and steady as he walked down the hallway. The woman at the front desk had told him the man he was looking for would be in the first lab past the offices, but who knew there would be so many damn offices?

Ironically, the stitched-up hole and titanium screws in his back weren’t bothering him all that much. It was the shattered ribs. Deep breaths were completely impossible, and just getting out of bed was a project that involved him sliding off the mattress and onto the floor.

Still, it was good to be out and moving around—particularly with no one trying to kill him.

He stopped in front of an open door and tapped quietly on the frame. The woman inside glanced up from her computer. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Dr. Greg Maple.”

“You’re on the right track,” she responded with a smile. “Keep going. First lab you come to.”

“Is it much farther?”

She seemed confused by the question, examining his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and tan face. “About twenty-five yards. Do you consider that far?”

Yes, he thought. His favorite twenty-five-mile trail-running loop suddenly seemed easy by comparison.

“Thanks for the info.”

It was right where she said it would be. The wall on the right turned to glass, displaying a large room tangled with unfathomable machinery, insulated pipes, and electrical cables. Maple was alone at the center wearing an old pair of slacks and an even older sweater. It was impossible to see what was spread out on the table in front of him, but he was tapping himself in the head with a pencil, pondering it intensely.

Smith went through the door and closed it behind him. “Hey, Greg.”

“Jon? Man, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Maple said, throwing his arms wide and approaching with a broad smile.

Smith held out a cautionary hand. “Whoa, Greg. Broken ribs and stitches.”

He stopped. “What the hell happened to you?”