The Mark of the Assassin

traffic. He crossed the parkway and ran up another
    hillside. The glass and steel office buildings of the Rosslyn section of
    Arlington stood before him. He found a public telephone outside a
    convenience store and rapidly dialed his own number. Max Lewis answered
    the phone.
    "Get me Elizabeth, now? She came on the line a few seconds later.
    "Michael, what's wrong?"
    "They're here, Elizabeth," Michael said, gasping for air. "October just
    tried to kill me on the Mount Vernon Trail. Now, listen very carefully
    and do exactly as I say."
    CHAPTER 43.
    Washington, D.C.
    ELIZABETH RUSHED INTO MICHAEL'S STUDY and threw open the closet door.
    The briefcase was on the top shelf, a brown rectangular box so ugly it
    could only have been created by the Agency's Office of Technical
    Services. The shelf was beyond her reach, so she ripped Michael's chair
    away from his desk and rolled it into the closet. She stood on the chair
    and pulled down the briefcase. Max was in the bedroom. Elizabeth sat at
    the foot of the bed, pulled on a pair of brown suede cowboy boots and
    then went to the closet and put on a thigh-length leather jacket. For
    some reason she looked at her face in the mirror and ran a hand through
    her uncombed hair. Max looked at her. "Elizabeth, dammit! What the
    hell's going on?"
    Elizabeth forced herself to be calm. "I can't explain everything now,
    Max, but a man just tried to kill Michael while he was running. Michael
    thinks that man is coming here, and he wants us to get out now."
    Max looked at the briefcase. "What the hell is that?"
    "It's called a jib," she said. "I'll explain in a few minutes. But right
    now I need you to help me."
    "I'll do anything, Elizabeth, you know that."
    "Now, listen to me carefully, Max," she said, taking his hand. "We're
    going to walk out the front door very slowly, very calmly, and we're
    going to get in my car."
    TWO MINUTES AFTER HANGING UP with Delaroche, Astrid Vogel saw the front
    door of the Osbournes' house swing open and two figures emerge into the
    December sunlight. The first was Elizabeth Osbourne--Astrid recognized
    her photograph from Delaroche's dossier--and the second was a white man
    of medium height and build. The woman carried a man's attach case, the
    man nothing. They climbed into a silver E-class Mercedes-Benz--the woman
    in the passenger seat, the man behind the wheel--and started the engine.
    Astrid considered what to do. Delaroche had told her to wait for him to
    return; then they would enter the house and take the woman hostage. She
    couldn't allow the woman to escape. She decided to follow them and tell
    Delaroche where they were going.
    The Mercedes pulled away from the curb and entered the quiet street.
    Astrid started the engine of the Rover and followed them. She punched in
    Delaroche's number and quickly brought him up to date.
    "HE'S HERE!" Michael yelled into the phone. "Who's here?" Adrian Carter
    said. "October's here. He just tried to kill me on the Mount Vernon
    Trail."
    "Are you sure?"
    "Adrian, what kind of fucking question is that? Of course I'm sure!"
    "Where are you?"
    "Rosslyn."
    "Give me the address. I'll send a team to collect you."
    Michael looked for a street sign and gave Carter his location. "Where's
    Elizabeth? I'll pick her up too."
    "She was at the house, but I told her to get out."
    "Why the hell did you do that?"
    "Because October and Astrid Vogel have been working as a pair throughout
    this thing. She's probably here too. If I didn't get Elizabeth out of
    there, Vogel would have gone in and grabbed her. I'm sure of it."
    "What's your plan?"
    Michael told him. "Jesus Christ! Who's the driver?"
    "Her secretary. Kid named Max Lewis."
    "Goddammit, Michael. Do you know what October's going to do to that guy
    when he finds out?"
    "Shut up, Adrian. Just hurry up and bring me in."
    ELIZABETH PULLED DOWN her sun visor and glanced into the vanity mirror
    as they headed south on Wisconsin Avenue. The black Range Rover was
    there, a woman behind the wheel, talking on a cellular telephone. Max
    said, "Who are we running from?"
    "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
    "At this point I'd believe just about anything."
    "Her name is Astrid Vogel, and she's a terrorist from the Red Army
    Faction."
    "Jesus Christ!"
    "Make a left, and drive normally."
    Max made a left onto M Street. At 31st Street the light changed from
    green to yellow when he was fifty feet from the intersection. Elizabeth
    said, "Go through it."
    Max punched the