Assassin's Game

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by Ward Larsen


  “It’s not Mossad money, if that’s what you mean. Not exactly.”

  Bloch eyed the kidon, but didn’t pursue the point.

  “Does she have any doubts?” Slaton asked.

  “About your death?” Bloch paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not sure. Edmund Deadmarsh was declared legally dead in the Commonwealth of Virginia last month. And of course she hasn’t heard from you. As you know, I went to see her a few weeks after Geneva, when you first insisted on this madness. She had trouble with it then, but now she seems more … accepting. I think she believes that if you’d survived you would have found your way to her by now.”

  They meandered the promenade in silence, and at the crest of the cliff reached a white stone wall beyond which was a thousand-foot plunge to the deep blue Mediterranean. Bloch knew they were less than three hundred miles north of Tripoli, the roof of the Sahara, yet the arid onshore breeze born of the sirocco seemed at odds with the azure seascape before them.

  He said, “Christine permitted me to see your son. He is only two months old but already has your—”

  “Son?” Slaton stopped abruptly. He turned away, the dry breeze whipping his hair.

  “My God!” Bloch stammered. He watched the kidon closely, saw his hands thrust deep into his pockets, the thick muscles tensing under his shirt. “You didn’t even know that much?”

  “The less I know the better.”

  Bloch pulled out his phone, called up the photograph he’d taken, and said, “Here, David. I took a picture of him with—”

  In a flash Slaton whipped around and snatched Bloch’s phone. Without even looking at the screen, he smashed it against the stone wall and heaved the plastic and silicon remains spinning toward the sea below.

  Bloch said nothing, and for a very long time they stood side by side at the stone precipice. “David—” he finally picked up, “you don’t have to do this. I can go back to Tel Aviv. I could tell them that—”

  “No!” Slaton cut in. His voice fell to a quiet, hushed tone. “You will go back to Tel Aviv and tell this director and any other that if Christine and my son are ever … I repeat, ever put at risk, I will start with the prime minister of Israel and work my way down.” He met Bloch’s eyes. “Are we perfectly clear on this?”

  “And your wife and child? You truly intend to never see them again?”

  Slaton shifted his stare out to sea.

  Bloch shook his head and looked up at the flawless blue sky. He tried to put himself in the kidon’s untenable position. He tried to understand. “Tell me, David. Is it possible to care for someone that much?”

  Without answering, Slaton turned and walked away.

  Bloch watched as he moved diagonally across the square, expecting Slaton to vaporize into his surroundings. Instead, he veered to one side of the piazza. The priest was at the church now, overseeing the work crew who’d gone back to plastering what was clearly a Roman Catholic house, the Vatican having long ago wrapped things up here. Slaton steered toward the man and struck up a conversation, a curious back-and-forth that caused the priest to cock his head and put a thoughtful finger to his lips. It was as if Slaton had asked an unanswerable question. Finally, that default solution so often relied upon by men of God was given. The priest shook his head, raised his palms upward, and looked to the sky.

  Slaton nodded appreciatively, as if to thank the father for his opinion, and then turned away toward the far side of the square. He picked up his pace over the cobblestone street, shouldered into a crowd at the central market, and in a flurry of white-shirted bronze men and barefoot children playing soccer, the kidon was quickly lost to sight.

  ALSO BY WARD LARSEN

  The Perfect Assassin

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ward Larsen is a two-time winner of the Florida Book Award. His work has been nominated for both the Edgar and Macavity awards. A former U.S. Air Force fighter pilot, Larsen flew more than twenty missions in Operation Desert Storm. He has also served as a federal law enforcement officer and is a trained aircraft accident investigator. His first thriller, The Perfect Assassin, is currently being adapted into a major motion picture by Amber Entertainment.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ASSASSIN’S GAME

  Copyright © 2014 by Ward Larsen

  All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph from Arcangel Images

  A Forge Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

  175 Fifth Avenue

  New York, NY 10010

  www.tor-forge.com

  Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

  eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-0-7653-3672-9 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-4668-2890-2 (e-book)

  e-ISBN 9781466828902

  First Edition: August 2014

 

 

 


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