The Monarch by Jack Soren

the missing chapter and—­though still unsaid—­protecting her father. But at that particular moment, the only sure thing she had was the phone pressed to her ear.
    â€œI can’t . How can I possibly convince them—­”
    â€œ Miss Burrows! ” The shout was so loud and abrupt she almost dropped the phone. She fought blossoming tears she knew had more to do with what that painting meant than a mystery man’s bluster and after a long pause he spoke again, calmer this time. “Remember the endgame. It’s what we both want. It’s all that matters.”
    But why does it matter to you?
    â€œI know. You’re right,” she said, knowing playing along was the only move she had right now.
    â€œHave they shown you anything? Told you anything, yet? About the murders?”
    She told him what Wagner had said and what he’d shown her in that terrible white room. It seemed to please him.
    â€œThey want to meet with me again tomorrow morning. He seemed a little, well, wobbly.”
    â€œWobbly?”
    â€œUnsettled. Like someone had dropped him into the middle of something he didn’t understand. He’d obviously never seen my book before today, but I have no doubt that when we meet tomorrow he’ll have read it from cover to cover. He seems very much like a man who doesn’t like unknowns.” She knew how he felt.
    â€œThe fact that Wagner is dealing with you personally is an excellent sign. I’ll send you a file on him. Tomorrow, I want you to know him as well as he will know your book.”
    This man has access to FBI personnel files?
    â€œHe’s going to know more than my book. My pen name identity has some documentation behind it, but nowhere near enough to fool a government agency. They’re going to detain me the second I walk through that door tomorrow morning.”
    â€œLet me worry about that,” he said. “For now, just go home and get some rest. Read Wagner’s file and get some sleep. Tomorrow it’s our turn.”
    He hung up before she could say anything. She put the phone away and turned around to see all the other bus patrons were gone. She’d been so preoccupied with the call she hadn’t even heard the bus come and go. She sighed and slumped down on the empty bench to wait for the next bus. As she did, she wondered about the convenience of the murders and the mystery man’s requests, but the ramifications were too overwhelming. She pushed the thoughts away as the next bus approached.
    â€œW ATCH HER,” N ATHAN’S voice said from the satellite phone held against Thomas Ranger’s square head.
    Thomas was sitting behind the wheel of the limo. He kept his eyes on Emily Burrows as she waited for a bus.
    â€œYes, sir,” Thomas said.
    â€œShe may not be as solid as we’d hoped,” Nathan said, sadness tingeing his voice. “We may need to change tactics if she doesn’t perform as expected tomorrow.”
    â€œThat would be unfortunate, sir.” Thomas got the message. Nathan rarely explicitly asked him to kill.
    â€œDon’t misunderstand, Thomas. We need her alive. But you may need to extract her sooner than planned. Did you get Wagner’s file?”
    â€œYes, sir,” Thomas said, glancing at the folder sitting on top of the metal case on the passenger seat. “Our man inside is performing well.”
    â€œGood. Deliver the case and file and then put someone on her. You have men on site, yes?”
    â€œYes, sir, but I can just—­”
    â€œI want you back here, Thomas. At least for a little while. You’ll be back in New York in time for the event,” Nathan said.
    â€œYes, sir. See you soon,” Thomas said signing off. He knew there was no real reason for him to head back to the island. No reason except that Nathan just felt better with his big dog by his side.
    He put the satellite phone away and dialed a cell phone. He