hazel curiosity emerging from his thought patterns. “Who is this man you want us to shoot?”
“A homicide detective from OPD, Arthur Brennan.”
“Arthur Brennan,” Heinrich repeated flatly. He had stopped thumbing through the bound stack of bills. “This is the same man who shut down our operations here three months ago?”
For the second time since entering the warehouse, Alex found herself uncertain. She had never heard of Arthur Brennan until a few days ago, and now it seemed that he had already had dealings with Leviathan. Her father would almost certainly have known about this.
If these men know how to resist me, he must have trained them to do so. How much is he actually hiding from me? Alex hadn’t believed it possible to conceal anything from her probing mind, but that certainty was being unraveled by the second.
“Whatever your history with the man,” Alex said, recovering her voice, “I expect that you will honor our agreement. He is not to be killed.”
“Absolutely.”
“Or seriously injured.”
Heinrich scowled. His frown deepened when he opened the briefcase and looked inside. “This is not the amount we agreed upon.”
“You’ll get the other half when the assignment is complete. This is a token of good faith,” she said, gesturing to the money he held. “Deviate from our deal and you will break that faith.”
“Your father taught you well,” Heinrich stated bitterly. “The detective will not be killed during this operation.” He extended his bear paw of a hand and shook Alex’s; his enveloped hers as easily as a clam concealing its pearl. Somehow, Alex felt that Heinrich had gained more from their meeting than just a lump sum of money.
As she left the warehouse, distinctly aware of the eyes silently watching her retreat, Alex replayed the exact words from her exchange with Heinrich. His training apparently prevented her from accessing his thoughts, but she hadn’t missed the fact that his parting statement had been carefully crafted to allow for an opportunistic loophole. If he harmed Arthur Brennan after Alex delivered the second part of their payment, then Heinrich could fulfill his end of the arrangement and enact his revenge.
If Heinrich kills Brennan before he can find this serial killer, I’m a dead woman.
She would just need to find a way to keep the good detective alive past tonight.
ф ф ф
The taxi arrived at her apartment with just a couple hours to spare until sundown. She quickly shed the formal dress suit she had worn to her meeting with Heinrich and pulled on an outfit consisting mainly of form-fitting leather and black wool. Alex took a moment to admire herself in the mirror before climbing back into the waiting cab.
“You do know that the meter is continuously running, yes?” the driver asked.
“That won’t be a problem,” Alex said. She handed him a handful of bills, each one of which could cover an hour of massage therapy. “One more stop to make, and then I want you to wipe today’s trip from your travel log.”
“It will look suspicious,” he countered, “if it looks like I did not have any passengers this afternoon.”
She handed him another bill. “Tell your boss that you took the afternoon off to celebrate your anniversary with your wife.”
“How did you know?”
“I’m psychic,” she said glibly. The driver looked at her for a moment before laughing.
“Whatever you say, lady.”
It was a peaceful drive, or at least as peaceful as it could have been, given the circumstances. Compared to the rest of her day, which had started so long ago with her early morning chat with Benjamin, the whiplash from weaving through inner city traffic was sublime. For some idiotic reason, Arthur Brennan had to live in the heart of the city, and across from OPD headquarters, no less. It was actually not too far from her own apartment, but the necessary evil of rush hour traffic was something she ordinarily only endured for her father.
“A homicide detective from OPD, Arthur Brennan.”
“Arthur Brennan,” Heinrich repeated flatly. He had stopped thumbing through the bound stack of bills. “This is the same man who shut down our operations here three months ago?”
For the second time since entering the warehouse, Alex found herself uncertain. She had never heard of Arthur Brennan until a few days ago, and now it seemed that he had already had dealings with Leviathan. Her father would almost certainly have known about this.
If these men know how to resist me, he must have trained them to do so. How much is he actually hiding from me? Alex hadn’t believed it possible to conceal anything from her probing mind, but that certainty was being unraveled by the second.
“Whatever your history with the man,” Alex said, recovering her voice, “I expect that you will honor our agreement. He is not to be killed.”
“Absolutely.”
“Or seriously injured.”
Heinrich scowled. His frown deepened when he opened the briefcase and looked inside. “This is not the amount we agreed upon.”
“You’ll get the other half when the assignment is complete. This is a token of good faith,” she said, gesturing to the money he held. “Deviate from our deal and you will break that faith.”
“Your father taught you well,” Heinrich stated bitterly. “The detective will not be killed during this operation.” He extended his bear paw of a hand and shook Alex’s; his enveloped hers as easily as a clam concealing its pearl. Somehow, Alex felt that Heinrich had gained more from their meeting than just a lump sum of money.
As she left the warehouse, distinctly aware of the eyes silently watching her retreat, Alex replayed the exact words from her exchange with Heinrich. His training apparently prevented her from accessing his thoughts, but she hadn’t missed the fact that his parting statement had been carefully crafted to allow for an opportunistic loophole. If he harmed Arthur Brennan after Alex delivered the second part of their payment, then Heinrich could fulfill his end of the arrangement and enact his revenge.
If Heinrich kills Brennan before he can find this serial killer, I’m a dead woman.
She would just need to find a way to keep the good detective alive past tonight.
ф ф ф
The taxi arrived at her apartment with just a couple hours to spare until sundown. She quickly shed the formal dress suit she had worn to her meeting with Heinrich and pulled on an outfit consisting mainly of form-fitting leather and black wool. Alex took a moment to admire herself in the mirror before climbing back into the waiting cab.
“You do know that the meter is continuously running, yes?” the driver asked.
“That won’t be a problem,” Alex said. She handed him a handful of bills, each one of which could cover an hour of massage therapy. “One more stop to make, and then I want you to wipe today’s trip from your travel log.”
“It will look suspicious,” he countered, “if it looks like I did not have any passengers this afternoon.”
She handed him another bill. “Tell your boss that you took the afternoon off to celebrate your anniversary with your wife.”
“How did you know?”
“I’m psychic,” she said glibly. The driver looked at her for a moment before laughing.
“Whatever you say, lady.”
It was a peaceful drive, or at least as peaceful as it could have been, given the circumstances. Compared to the rest of her day, which had started so long ago with her early morning chat with Benjamin, the whiplash from weaving through inner city traffic was sublime. For some idiotic reason, Arthur Brennan had to live in the heart of the city, and across from OPD headquarters, no less. It was actually not too far from her own apartment, but the necessary evil of rush hour traffic was something she ordinarily only endured for her father.
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