you.” His tone turned serious. “You’ve never let me down before. Will you do it?”
Tap shrugged. “Can’t promise I’ll get him without good police data from”—he held the device—“this. But if I get good leads, I’ll close him down. It’ll be a walk in the park once I have him in my sights. Then I’ll call it in to the cops.”
“Actually, Simon, if you don’t mind, I’d rather you didn’t.”
Tap was quiet.
“I told Painter and Kopa ń ski that the Agency couldn’t interfere in their police matter. It was a lie. See, the thing is, it’s better for everyone if Cochrane doesn’t remain on the run. But it’s also better if he’s not incarcerated. He’s got too much stuff in his head. Too many things he might spill to get a reduced sentence. Because—”
“He was a covert operative.”
Knox always admired the rapid thinking of the asset he’d used many times without the Agency knowing. He liked to think of Tap as his cutthroat razor—for the most part delicate and precise, but extremely capable of creating an awful mess if needed. “I need Cochrane permanently removed.”
“Then my price has just doubled.”
Knox had anticipated this and had ensured he could squirrel four hundred thousand dollars out of his slush fund without anyone noticing.
Tap asked, “Does NSA know why it made this gadget for you?”
“It believes we’re merely keeping tabs on the investigation and that if we hear anything from the cops that they don’t understand but we do, then we can subtly steer the detectives in the right direction. NSA thinks their tool is to help capture Cochrane.”
Tap was deep in thought. “If I kill Cochrane close to cops, what will they think has happened?”
The CIA officer shrugged. “I’ll muddy their thinking—tell them that there are a vast number of foreign people who want payback for Cochrane’s service to the West. He killed some of theirs. They decided to end his life while he was on the run and vulnerable.” He added, “We have a deal?”
“It’ll be done.”
Knox’s tone was earnest and urgent as he replied, “Don’t get close to him.”
“I can handle myself.”
“With most people, yes. But with this one things are different. He’ll easily kill you if you’re in close proximity to him. Trust me on that. Get a rifle, or whatever works for you, and take his head off from a distance.”
CHAPTER 14
M y bus was on route 81, about an hour away from Roanoke. The entire journey south, I’d had my jacket collar and hood up, pretending to sleep. I wished I really could have got some shuteye. I was dog-tired.
The bus was at full capacity. Most people were dozing. Thankfully, the interior was in darkness. I was in an aisle seat. Next to me was a young man. He looked like a college student. He hadn’t said a word to me when he got on the bus in D.C. Just played games on his phone for half an hour before slipping it into his pocket and crashing. He’d been asleep ever since.
The bus slowed down, and I opened my eyes. Ahead of us traffic was moving slowly. I couldn’t see why. Maybe an accident.
But I couldn’t afford to make assumptions. I kept looking ahead.
Five minutes later, I saw flashing lights on the highway ahead. We were four hundred yards away, moving at crawling pace.
Most likely an accident, I repeated to myself.
But as we got closer, my stomach flipped. Two squad cars were parked horizontally across the highway. A gap the width of a truck was between them. That was the only way to get through. Other cop cars were stationary behind the makeshift roadblock. And in the gap, two officers were allowing vehicles to slowly go through. Each time, they lifted a spike strip. Once the car was through, they replaced the strip and checked the next vehicle in the queue. I bet the cops had another spike strip farther down, in case a car tried to rush the gap behind another car.
On the Amtrak, I’d had room to move. But in here I was trapped. The
Tap shrugged. “Can’t promise I’ll get him without good police data from”—he held the device—“this. But if I get good leads, I’ll close him down. It’ll be a walk in the park once I have him in my sights. Then I’ll call it in to the cops.”
“Actually, Simon, if you don’t mind, I’d rather you didn’t.”
Tap was quiet.
“I told Painter and Kopa ń ski that the Agency couldn’t interfere in their police matter. It was a lie. See, the thing is, it’s better for everyone if Cochrane doesn’t remain on the run. But it’s also better if he’s not incarcerated. He’s got too much stuff in his head. Too many things he might spill to get a reduced sentence. Because—”
“He was a covert operative.”
Knox always admired the rapid thinking of the asset he’d used many times without the Agency knowing. He liked to think of Tap as his cutthroat razor—for the most part delicate and precise, but extremely capable of creating an awful mess if needed. “I need Cochrane permanently removed.”
“Then my price has just doubled.”
Knox had anticipated this and had ensured he could squirrel four hundred thousand dollars out of his slush fund without anyone noticing.
Tap asked, “Does NSA know why it made this gadget for you?”
“It believes we’re merely keeping tabs on the investigation and that if we hear anything from the cops that they don’t understand but we do, then we can subtly steer the detectives in the right direction. NSA thinks their tool is to help capture Cochrane.”
Tap was deep in thought. “If I kill Cochrane close to cops, what will they think has happened?”
The CIA officer shrugged. “I’ll muddy their thinking—tell them that there are a vast number of foreign people who want payback for Cochrane’s service to the West. He killed some of theirs. They decided to end his life while he was on the run and vulnerable.” He added, “We have a deal?”
“It’ll be done.”
Knox’s tone was earnest and urgent as he replied, “Don’t get close to him.”
“I can handle myself.”
“With most people, yes. But with this one things are different. He’ll easily kill you if you’re in close proximity to him. Trust me on that. Get a rifle, or whatever works for you, and take his head off from a distance.”
CHAPTER 14
M y bus was on route 81, about an hour away from Roanoke. The entire journey south, I’d had my jacket collar and hood up, pretending to sleep. I wished I really could have got some shuteye. I was dog-tired.
The bus was at full capacity. Most people were dozing. Thankfully, the interior was in darkness. I was in an aisle seat. Next to me was a young man. He looked like a college student. He hadn’t said a word to me when he got on the bus in D.C. Just played games on his phone for half an hour before slipping it into his pocket and crashing. He’d been asleep ever since.
The bus slowed down, and I opened my eyes. Ahead of us traffic was moving slowly. I couldn’t see why. Maybe an accident.
But I couldn’t afford to make assumptions. I kept looking ahead.
Five minutes later, I saw flashing lights on the highway ahead. We were four hundred yards away, moving at crawling pace.
Most likely an accident, I repeated to myself.
But as we got closer, my stomach flipped. Two squad cars were parked horizontally across the highway. A gap the width of a truck was between them. That was the only way to get through. Other cop cars were stationary behind the makeshift roadblock. And in the gap, two officers were allowing vehicles to slowly go through. Each time, they lifted a spike strip. Once the car was through, they replaced the strip and checked the next vehicle in the queue. I bet the cops had another spike strip farther down, in case a car tried to rush the gap behind another car.
On the Amtrak, I’d had room to move. But in here I was trapped. The
Similar Books
