Deadly Additive
Page 26
Novak waved a hand in negation. “Nobody can replace you, but I’m honored you’ve chosen me to try. The CIA is giving me one more year to find the unknown kingpin who heads The Octopus. I’ll be lucky to cut off a few tentacles.”
Brinkman laughed again. “When you do retire, you’ll enjoy working without the CIA’s restrictions.” He sobered quickly. “If we work together through this next year, maybe we can do more than cut off tentacles.”
****
Houston, Texas
Sledge took Kristin’s bandaged hand in his own bandaged hand as they approached Glenn Vickers’s house. A wave of tenderness swept over Sledge as he glanced at Kristin’s face, thankful again it hadn’t been marred by Koenraad’s acid. Kristin responded with an uncharacteristic blush.
Vickers led them into his living room, where they found Jocelyn. The billionaire’s daughter wore faded jeans and a short-sleeved blouse that looked like it came off the rack at Goodwill. She had also dyed her hair black, saying that a new life required a new appearance.
“They found me a job at a fast-food restaurant,” she said, her face radiant. “Next month I start back to school to learn journalism. I won’t be famous like you are since National Events printed your story, Kristin, but I want to do something useful.”
Kristin gave her a hug. “You look happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“You can thank Glenn for that.” She threw Vickers a smile. “He got me straightened out.”
Vickers coughed. “I can’t straighten anyone out. I’m just the messenger.” He deftly shifted the subject away from himself by asking Sledge and Kristin, “What will you two do now?”
“I’m getting a ton of offers since my story came out.” Kristin looked at Sledge. “But I think I’ll freelance for a while here in Houston.”
“I plan to retrain as a private investigator,” Sledge said. “Maybe with that I can quit getting shot at.”
Vickers grew suddenly serious. “Why come to me? I can’t help you freelance or retrain.”
Kristin spoke first. “We’ve both agreed that we lack something, that we’re not complete. I think I know what it is, but I don’t know how to find it. I think you can tell me.”
“You had me pegged when we talked in Bogotá,” Sledge said, again joining damaged hands with Kristin. “Doing good things isn’t enough. When they’re done, I still feel an emptiness. I’d like to fill it, if I can find a way.”
“There is one, but only one.” The missionary’s voice grew vibrant with the resonance of abiding truth. “When they asked that question of our Lord, He answered, ‘I am the Way.’“
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