by Dean Atwood
“At least that’s a lead. You covered a lot of ground today.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think we have much to go on, yet.”
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll follow up on the scant leads we’ve uncovered so far.”
“Colonel Smithers is still in her office. I called her after I finished talking with everyone and she said she was going to release employees to allow them to go home.”
“I noticed the outflow of people when I returned from Warren’s office. I figured she must have given the order.”
“She said she was available for a briefing on our investigation. We should give her an update before we leave.”
“Go ahead and meet with her by yourself. I’m sure she won’t miss me. I have to leave to meet someone tonight.”
“Is there anything you want me to withhold about our findings, so far?”
“You can be open with her. Let her know that I think information sharing should be a two-way street. Warren and her need to be honest with us about the task force, if they expect us to get to the bottom of this. Also, you can ask her who Warren’s boss is.”
“That’ll go over like a lead balloon, but I’ll do it. See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be in by late morning. I have to stop by my office to talk with my boss and follow up on a couple of things.”
Quinton felt a little guilty for not telling Daphne about his planned meetings with Blaire tonight and Lieutenant Mad tomorrow. And, he hadn’t revealed what Karen had told him about Project Typhon, but at this point, he wasn’t sure whether her loyalties were with him or Colonel Smithers. After all, the colonel was the one who assigned Daphne to the case. Besides, he wasn’t ready to expose his personal relationship with Blaire and he felt an obligation to keep Lieutenant Mad’s involvement confidential. He’d already put the lieutenant in enough danger with his database searches of her earlier in the day.
Half the battle in doing his job was determining who could be trusted and who couldn’t. It wasn’t easy getting on Quinton’s trusted people list, and anyone who was taken off the list never got added back.
Chapter 25
S carlatino waited. Usually, he didn’t mind waiting. The anticipation excited him. But, this was different. Unless the girl came back to the hotel, he was dependent on his client to use his resources to find her location. When he’d called his client to let him know the girl wasn’t at the Wintergreen hotel, the man was unpleasant, as he always was.
For lack of anything better to do while he waited, Scarlatino started the weather app on his iPhone and checked the forecast. It hadn’t changed. It was still zero percent chance of precipitation. Bored, he signed into his personal Web site to view any new requests for his services. He expected this job to be done by the end of the day and he’d left next week open in case his current assignment took more time than planned. His personal Web site was used for repeat business. He accessed the international network for new clients. The only posting he saw on his Web site wasn’t from a customer, it was from a man known as Rasputin. After reading the cryptic message, he called the number provided.
“This is Rasputin,” the man on the other end said.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Is that you, Scarlatino?”
“Yes, it’s me. Why does the legendary Rasputin want to speak to me?”
“You’re in my home territory, Charlottesville.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw you near the downtown mall.”
“So, you saw me and decided to contact me to get together for coffee or dinner?” Scarlatino said sarcastically.
“No, I want to discuss business.”
“I’m rather busy right now. I have an important appointment tonight. The type of appointment that’s my specialty. I’m waiting for a meeting place to be communicated.”
“I understand. You’re busy. Call me when you’re free.”
“It’s OK. I have a short break before my appointment. What’s this about?”
“I retired from the agency a few years back and stopped doing contract work, but I want to get back into the business.”
“It’s hard to quit, isn’t it? You get used to the rush. It’s like a drug. But, you don’t need my permission to return. I don’t mind the competition.”
“Everything is computerized these days. I used to have access to the international network to find assignments, but the site I used to use is no longer available. I was hoping you could provide me with access and vouch for me if the people who control the database require a reference.”
“How much are you willing to pay me for the service?”
“How about ten percent of my first job payment?”
“I was thinking fifty percent, but because I admire your work, I’ll make it twenty-five percent.”
“Done.”
“Are you calling from a smart phone?”
“Yes.”
“Is it secure?”
“Yes, it’s secure.”
“I’ll text you the network access information.”
“I owe you.”
“One more thing. There’s something you can do for me.”
“Name it.”
“I generally do contract work for the intelligence agencies, but I’m doing a corporate job right now. The client doesn’t treat me with the same respect that the agencies do. I have plenty of work right now and I don’t need the aggravation. If there’s a follow-up assignment with him, would you be interested in taking it? He pays well.”
“I don’t mind corporate work. The assholes don’t bother me as long as they pay.”
“Good. I’ll give your contact information to him for future reference.”
“I’ll post on your Web site to arrange the commission payment after I’m paid for my first job.”
“I trust you. You’re a man of honor like myself.”
Scarlatino smiled after he hung up. It was a big relief to know that he could outsource future assignments with the belligerent client.
***
Lieutenant Mad sat on a park bench across the street from Quinton’s townhouse. She was wearing her normal attire (green shorts, camouflage military shirt, and a UVA baseball cap). The cap visor was pulled down to shade her eyes and block her face. She’d been there for a couple of hours and hadn’t seen anyone surveilling the place. She planned to stay a while longer to make sure no spooks or assassins arrived later in the evening. It wasn’t as though she had anyplace else she had to be.
The lieutenant’s phone vibrated. Before picking up, she checked the display to see who was calling. “Rasputin, what’s happening? I don’t get calls from you very often,” she said.
“I made contact with Scarlatino.”
“That’s good news.”
“Maybe not.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He told me he’s making a hit tonight.”
“Who’s the target?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Did he say what time he was going to do it?”
“He’s waiting for the man who hired him to call with the target’s location. He’ll probably wait until after dark, unless there are extenuating circumstances.”
“Were you able to learn who hired him?”
“No, only that the client is corporate and not from an intelligence organization.”
“I thought you said he wouldn’t do a hit for a civilian client against an intelligence agency employee.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me. Either the client pays extraordinarily well, or he’s partners with somebody inside the intelligence community.”
“Did he tell you anything else?”
“That’s all I could find out for now without causing Scarlatino to become suspicious.”
“Thanks for calling, Rasputin. You be careful.”
“I didn’t survive this long without being cautious.”
***
Quinton went out the front door of the JUIAF. He
turned around and looked at the building. He could see there were still a few lights turned on inside the facility, but most of the offices had the dull glow of a nightlight. He heard a helicopter nearby and soldiers were still patrolling the front of the building. He couldn’t see the rear of the facility, but he assumed there were soldiers there, too.
QT showed his FBI badge to the soldier who stopped him. I’m driving the SUV parked over there,” he said and pointed to his vehicle.
“Yes, I remember you arriving this afternoon. Drive slow, Agent Target, and don’t make any sudden moves. We’re all a little jumpy today. Most of these men have never been in battle. They might overreact if they thought you were a threat.”
“Are the soldiers going to be here again tomorrow?”
“Yes, Sir. We’ll be here until Colonel Smithers says otherwise.”
“Then I’ll see you when I return in the morning, Sargent.”
“Goodnight, Sir.”
As Quinton walked to his SUV, his phone rang. “Agent Target,” he said.
“You’re rather formal tonight, aren’t you?”
“Lieutenant Mad, I didn’t expect to hear from you before our meeting tomorrow.”
“I have to tell you something and it can’t wait until morning.”
“Have you seen the hitman, again?”
“Better than that. I have a friend who talked with him.”
“What kind of friends do you hang out with?”
“We can talk about that another time. I need to warn you.”
“About what?”
“The killer is going to make a hit tonight. He didn’t explicitly identify who he was going to kill, but chances are good it’s your blonde girlfriend.”
“Her name is Blaire.”
“Whatever. The important thing is that whoever hired the assassin has a way to find her. The killer said he was waiting to hear back from the man who’s going to provide him with the intended victim’s location.”
“The NSA analysts haven’t located her yet. How’s he going to find her?”
“I don’t know that, but you better warn Blondie that he’s going to attempt to kill her tonight.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, Lieutenant. We’re on for my place at seven tomorrow morning, right?”
“I’ll be there.”
After hanging up, Quinton picked up his pace. As soon as he sat down in his SUV and buckled up, he made the call.
Blaire answered and said, “QT, are you on your way yet? I’m getting antsy here alone.”
“I’m leaving the JUIAF now. Listen to me carefully and try not to freak out.”
“You’re freaking me out by saying that.”
“I have it through a reliable source that the killer has your location, or will have it soon, and he plans to attack you tonight.”
“Should I leave Jeremy’s house, now?”
“I don’t think you can risk it. The assassin could be outside the house waiting. If he’s already there watching your place, you’d be easy to shoot while you were walking to your car.”
“What should I do?”
“You’ll need to use whatever you can find in the house as weapons. Did you bring your pistol with you from Wintergreen?”
“Yes, I have it.”
“Did Jeremy leave any guns at his house?”
“No, I didn’t see any when I looked around. I found a set of golf clubs. Somehow, they don’t seem like very potent weapons against a professional killer.”
“It’ll be dark soon. I want you to lock all the doors and windows. Make sure the outside lights are on and the inside lights are off.”
“OK, that’ll be easy.”
“And, I want you to search the house for a flashlight.”
“No problem. There’re two in the bottom desk draw. But, what good is a flashlight?”
“After you lock the doors and turn off the lights, find a place in a corner, facing the front door. Have your weapon ready to shoot and your flashlight close by. Hopefully, I’ll get there before he comes after you.”
“What if you don’t?”
“If he enters the house before me, this is what I want you to do ...”
Chapter 26
S carlatino peeked around the tree and stared at the house below. It was getting dark outside and the encroaching darkness was causing excitement to grow within him. It was almost time. He flinched when the lights that lined the driveway suddenly came on. He assumed they were on a timer. He’d have to stay in the woods to circle around to the rear of the house to access the electrical box. The afterglow from the sunset was keeping total darkness at bay, but he knew she was in there. Her car was in the driveway and he could see the inside lights becoming brighter as the sun set.
The unpleasant phone call with his client still annoyed him. He had followed the correct protocol. He’d gone to the hotel where the man had told him his target awaited, he’d carefully assessed his surroundings, and entered the room without being seen. It wasn’t his fault she wasn’t where the man said she’d be. He’d contacted the man immediately after the miscue and waited patiently in his car for two hours in case she returned, while the man used his resources to identify her whereabouts. She had never come back to the hotel. The man had derided him when he called back. Telling him that he was saving his ass again by giving him the girl’s new address.
Taking insults from rich and powerful men without retaliating was an unpleasing aspect of his line of work. He liked the jobs where he only communicated through secure email and didn’t ever have to see or talk to the ones who hired him. But sometimes, the job required him to deal directly with the egomaniacs. He’d keep his anger inside, remain calm, and find an outlet for his rage after the killing was done. It was the professional thing to do. He’d give the next job with this corporate client to Rasputin. Let him take the verbal abuse.
The last shadows from the sunset were disappearing quickly. It wouldn’t be long, now. He could feel the testosterone surging in his body.
***
As the last rays of daylight faded and nightfall arrived, Blaire’s mood changed. The day’s events were beginning to take a toll. She wasn’t in any danger of falling into a full-blown depression or have a panic attack, but she wasn’t her usual, optimistic self either. Knowing that the killer was on the loose — preparing to kill her — made her paranoid at worst and apprehensive at best. Ever since QT’s warning call, she’d had the strangest feeling that someone was watching her. Maybe it was her imagination, but then again, maybe not.
She walked over to the front door and glanced out the glass panel next to it, exposing only part of her head in the window pane as she did so. The driveway track lights and the landscape lights had come on automatically and had given her a temporary sense of security. Even if it was a false sense of security, it made her feel safer. She scanned the hillside above the driveway as far as the lights were illuminating. A movement along the tree line startled her until she saw a deer leap out of the woods and run across the driveway toward the back of the house.
The only access to the house from the rear was by way of a staircase that was attached to the back deck. From the deck, glass patio doors provided the entrance. She turned on the deck lights and locked the patio doors. There was a door that allowed access from the garage to the mudroom, but it was locked, and the garage doors required a code to enter. She’d hear those garage doors open if anyone entered the code on the keypad or used a coded remote control. She went room to room flipping switches until every light was extinguished except for the one in the hall next to the front door. She removed the gun from her overnight bag and set it on the table next to her chair, which was in a dark corner of the living room. While seated in the chair and looking at the front door, she reached over to the table, grabbed the gun and pointed it toward the hallway After practicing this move several times, she set the gun down and left it there.
When her phone rang, Blaire’s heartbeat doubled, and she grabbed for the pistol. Sh
e was shaking so badly that she knocked it off the table and it skidded along the floor. Emerging from instinct mode, she realized that the correct reaction was to answer the phone not shoot it.
“Hello,” she said with a quivering voice.
“BS, it’s QT. Are you alright? You sound a little shaky.”
“I’m OK. When the phone rang, it scared the piss out of me. I thought you’d be here by now.”
“I’m five or ten minutes away, assuming I don’t accidentally go by your driveway.”
“I didn’t have a problem finding it during the daylight. The house number is clearly painted on the mailbox.”
“Did you lock all the doors and windows and turn off the inside lights?”
“I think so. Well, I know I locked all the doors. I’ll check the windows after we hang up.”
“It’s too late for that. If you’re in a dark corner stay there. It’s totally dark outside. I want you in place in case he comes after you. “Is your pistol loaded and the safety off?”
“It’s close by and ready to shoot.” She said as she looked around the room, trying to locate the pistol she’d dropped.
“And you prepared the flashlight?”
“Yes, they’re both next to the end table.”
“Do you remember what I told you to do?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t shoot me when I get there,” QT said in an ill-timed attempt at humor.
“I can’t promise anything if you sneak up on me.”
“I’ll announce myself loud and clear before I enter.”
“Hurry.”
“I’m almost there.”
“QT ...”
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t leave me.”
“I’m not leaving you, I’m on my way to you. We can talk things over when I get there.”
“Oh, shit!”