nodded. “That’s right. That’s right.”
If need be, Forsyth could always force the issue, knocking him unconscious, then convincing him he’d hit his head. But coupled with Burling’s death, the odds of anyone believing this kid happened to have that kind of an accident on the same night were astronomical. This would be a tough enough sell as it was.
Hammett glanced to the others, hoping their timing was better.
The security room that Ludlum had entered was not covered by a camera, but the one on her jacket lapel showed the three guards all checking the cables and her palming a degausser wand that was half up her sleeve. Looking a little bit like a flat curling iron, the wand was powerful for its size, could scramble the security recordings in short order, wiping the hard drives. Of course, degaussing didn’t actually erase data, but it changed the alignment of magnetic data storage systems so that the data itself was unrecoverable.
When Ludlum was finished, there would be no record of Follett’s four duplicates ever having been at the house. And if the rest of the night went as planned, and The Instructor came through on his end, no one would look deeply enough into Burling’s death to realize Follett was in so many places at the same time. Especially since no one but Isaac knew who Follett really was.
On the next section of the laptop screen, Clancy had stripped down to nothing but a thong and draped her jacket in order to give Hammett a good view. For a second, Hammett marveled at Clancy’s body, identical to Forsyth’s, identical to hers, in every detail; even down to the mole just below the nipple of her left breast.
Amazing.
Then she focused on that bastard Burling.
The man she knew as Isaac.
Completely naked but only half aroused, he looked fairly fit for a middle aged guy. He showed a few signs of his obvious zeal for partying, the broken capillaries crisscrossing his nose, a little puffiness under his eyes. But all in all, he had the waxed and groomed sheen of a metrosexual man with power.
Clancy stroked his still soft length, then fashioned her lips into a pout. “I have just what you need, baby.”
“I’ll bet you do. I have to say, you’re the best bodyguard I’ve ever been assigned. What branch of the government did you say you worked for?”
“Right now, I’m working for you. And I’m very good at my job.”
Hammett shook her head. How many double-cross and sexual entendres was that? Four at once? Clancy knew Burling was Isaac, and Burling thought Clancy was Follett, whom he assigned to guard himself. If it got any more complicated, it would become some sort of Shakespearean farce.
Clancy grasped the necklace draping between her breasts. A small cylinder-shaped piece of amethyst, the pendant wasn’t actually stone at all. She gave the end a twist, and it detached from the chain. Then she held out the cocaine to Burling.
“This stuff is dynamite. A nice little pick me up.” She toyed with him as she said the words.
He screwed off the cap and pulled out the tiny spoon attached, covered in white powder. “Oh, you know what I like, don’t you?”
Clancy giggled, keeping her hands stroking as he snorted the cocaine into one nostril then the other.
Hammett scanned the garden. No Follett, she checked Forsyth. The last thing she needed was the guard she’d been taking care of wandering around when Follett showed.
Forsyth and her Romeo were sitting on the floor, Forsyth pushing her bottle of whiskey to his mouth.
He finally took a few gulps then shoved her hand away. “I’ve got to go.”
“What? I didn’t even get mine.”
“Some other time, babe.”
“Really? You’re one of
those
guys? Your poor wife.”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to do my job.”
She set down the whiskey. “You’re right. And your job right now is to get me off.”
In a flash of movement, Forsyth had the guy’s back pinned to the floor. Holding his shoulders down with her
If need be, Forsyth could always force the issue, knocking him unconscious, then convincing him he’d hit his head. But coupled with Burling’s death, the odds of anyone believing this kid happened to have that kind of an accident on the same night were astronomical. This would be a tough enough sell as it was.
Hammett glanced to the others, hoping their timing was better.
The security room that Ludlum had entered was not covered by a camera, but the one on her jacket lapel showed the three guards all checking the cables and her palming a degausser wand that was half up her sleeve. Looking a little bit like a flat curling iron, the wand was powerful for its size, could scramble the security recordings in short order, wiping the hard drives. Of course, degaussing didn’t actually erase data, but it changed the alignment of magnetic data storage systems so that the data itself was unrecoverable.
When Ludlum was finished, there would be no record of Follett’s four duplicates ever having been at the house. And if the rest of the night went as planned, and The Instructor came through on his end, no one would look deeply enough into Burling’s death to realize Follett was in so many places at the same time. Especially since no one but Isaac knew who Follett really was.
On the next section of the laptop screen, Clancy had stripped down to nothing but a thong and draped her jacket in order to give Hammett a good view. For a second, Hammett marveled at Clancy’s body, identical to Forsyth’s, identical to hers, in every detail; even down to the mole just below the nipple of her left breast.
Amazing.
Then she focused on that bastard Burling.
The man she knew as Isaac.
Completely naked but only half aroused, he looked fairly fit for a middle aged guy. He showed a few signs of his obvious zeal for partying, the broken capillaries crisscrossing his nose, a little puffiness under his eyes. But all in all, he had the waxed and groomed sheen of a metrosexual man with power.
Clancy stroked his still soft length, then fashioned her lips into a pout. “I have just what you need, baby.”
“I’ll bet you do. I have to say, you’re the best bodyguard I’ve ever been assigned. What branch of the government did you say you worked for?”
“Right now, I’m working for you. And I’m very good at my job.”
Hammett shook her head. How many double-cross and sexual entendres was that? Four at once? Clancy knew Burling was Isaac, and Burling thought Clancy was Follett, whom he assigned to guard himself. If it got any more complicated, it would become some sort of Shakespearean farce.
Clancy grasped the necklace draping between her breasts. A small cylinder-shaped piece of amethyst, the pendant wasn’t actually stone at all. She gave the end a twist, and it detached from the chain. Then she held out the cocaine to Burling.
“This stuff is dynamite. A nice little pick me up.” She toyed with him as she said the words.
He screwed off the cap and pulled out the tiny spoon attached, covered in white powder. “Oh, you know what I like, don’t you?”
Clancy giggled, keeping her hands stroking as he snorted the cocaine into one nostril then the other.
Hammett scanned the garden. No Follett, she checked Forsyth. The last thing she needed was the guard she’d been taking care of wandering around when Follett showed.
Forsyth and her Romeo were sitting on the floor, Forsyth pushing her bottle of whiskey to his mouth.
He finally took a few gulps then shoved her hand away. “I’ve got to go.”
“What? I didn’t even get mine.”
“Some other time, babe.”
“Really? You’re one of
those
guys? Your poor wife.”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to do my job.”
She set down the whiskey. “You’re right. And your job right now is to get me off.”
In a flash of movement, Forsyth had the guy’s back pinned to the floor. Holding his shoulders down with her
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