Stone - 25 - Collateral Damage

brand-new Sikorsky X2 helicopter, not even certified yet, but on loan to the Agency. Holly hadn’t expected this, but she was looking forward to the ride. She hopped into the cabin and buckled in.
    After what seemed like only a moment, the sleek machine was flying north, directly into the D.C. no-fly zone and at no more than a thousand feet. She put on her headset. “Hey,” she said to the pilot, “aren’t we a little low?”
    “On purpose, ma’am,” the pilot said. “No traffic over Washington at this altitude.”
    “Can this thing really break two hundred fifty knots?”
    “That’s classified, ma’am, but you have an honest face, so yes, ma’am. It’s the fastest chopper ever, and it’s all mine! I guess you got your seat belt fastened?”
    “I have.”
    “Well, right after we blow past the White House, I’m going to show you some climb performance.”
    “You go right ahead.” Holly looked out her window and the White House blew by, indeed; she could see the ground-to-air missile launchers on the roof. Suddenly, the helicopter raised its nose, and Holly looked over the pilot’s shoulder at the speed tape on the glass cockpit’s pilot’s flight display. It was moving too fast for her to keep up with. Then they leveled at twelve thousand feet, leaving her stomach in the air, and the climb seemed to have taken but a moment.
    “You enjoy that?” the pilot asked.
    “I’ve always loved roller coasters,” she replied.
    “We’ll be on the East Side pad in less than an hour.”
    “Does the satphone work?” she asked.
    “On this bird, everything works, ma’am.”
    Holly picked up the phone, called the Agency’s East Side facility and asked for the agent in charge.
    He came on the line immediately. “Holly Barker?”
    “That’s right. I’m inbound for the East Side Heliport, ETA forty-five minutes. I need a vehicle to meet me, and I need an immediate location for a Kelli Keane, a writer for Vanity Fair magazine. She’s freelance and may work from home.”
    “We’re on it.”
    “Send a team to find her, stat, then politely but firmly bring her to your location. Clear a room for me to have a quiet chat with her. No video or audio, is that clear?”
    “Clear.”
    “Over and out.” Holly hung up the phone and sat back to watch the countryside stream past her window.
    —
    Kelli Keane was having lunch with a woman friend at a chic downtown restaurant when her cell phone went off. “Kelli Keane.”
    “Ms. Keane, my name is Carlson, and I am a federal agent. I need to speak to you alone at the front door of the restaurant immediately. My people will settle your check, so go there now, understood?”
    “No, not understood.”
    “If it will be more convenient for you, I can send two agents into the restaurant to assist you outside. Would you prefer that?”
    “All right, all right, how long?”
    “Ten seconds.” The line went dead.
    “Carolyn,” Kelli said to her companion, “it seems something urgent has come up and I’ll have to leave, maybe for a few minutes, maybe longer. The check will be taken care of.” Kelli looked toward the front door and saw two large men in dark suits walk in and look around. “Gotta go,” she said to the astonished Carolyn. The door was open when she got there.
    “Straight ahead,” one of the men said, assisting her along by the elbow and nearly lifting her off her feet. She found herself in the rear seat of a black SUV between the two men, and the windows were blacked out.
    “All right,” Kelli said, “what the hell is going on here?”
    “Be quiet,” the man said. “Someone wishes to speak with you. We’ll reach your first destination in twenty minutes.”
    “Then what?” she asked, but no one answered her.
    Twenty minutes later, the car drove into an underground garage and stopped at an elevator. Several floors later, she was put into what appeared to be a small living room, furnished with a sofa, chairs, and a small dining table. The door closed behind her before she could ask where they were.
    —
    After the helicopter landed, Holly held the headset mike to her lips. “That was just amazing,” she said to the pilot. “Thanks so much.” Then she hopped out of the chopper and, eight steps later, into a black SUV. Six minutes after that, the car went underground, and she was rising in the elevator. The AIC was waiting for her.
    “She’s in a holding room,” he said.
    “Remember, no video, no audio, and no peeking. Got