Thin Line (4 page)

Few cars were out, but the sidewalks grew thick with people eager to beat the brunt of the storm home. While the snow accumulated quickly on the sides of
the road, the sidewalk was a pile of slush.

We were far enough removed from the brownstone that I started to feel confident we would not be followed. As an added measure of security, I pulled the
battery from my cell phone, broke the device in two, then tossed the three components into three different trash cans. We wouldn't return to the café
to pick up Bear's cell either. That wasn't an option. And it didn't matter. These were throw-away phones, good for no more than a day or two.

Bear pointed at a diner fifty feet ahead. "Hungry?"

I wasn't, but recalling the scene at the brownstone and the condition of most of the building left me with a desire to wash my hands.

And I could always go for a cup of coffee.

We entered the empty diner and took a seat at a table that had a wrap-around booth in the corner of the dining room. It offered a view of the diner and the
street, and we both could take advantage of it without having to sit side by side. They didn't make seats big enough for that. I left Bear with
instructions to order me a coffee and then slipped into the bathroom to clean up. Not long after I returned to the table, a dark-haired waitress dropped
off a water and a steaming mug of java.

Bear soaked in the scene. His gaze traveled from empty table to empty table, lingered on the members of the waitstaff that were visible, then finally
passed me over and settled on the street. "Thoughts or theories?"

I shrugged. "Just a matter of how he knew. Was he tipped off by the sight of you, or did someone tell him?"

"Who would've done that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Problem is we don't know who all knows about the job. Your guy got it from someone who might've got it from someone else. They could've offered it to
another group, who turned it down for whatever reason, one of those reasons possibly being a working relationship with the target. In which case, they told
him, so he knew it was coming. All it took was one 6'6" guy to look out of place."

"Then a homeless guy is dead. But why? If he could disappear, why not just disappear? I mean, what would you do?"

Bear leaned back, one arm over the top of the booth, hand dangling behind it, out of sight. He considered the question for a moment. "Guess it depends on
what I thought of that bum. Maybe the guy was a royal pain. Kill two birds with one stone. You get rid of the guy, and you tell your newly acquired enemies
that you don't play games."

"By playing the ultimate game."

That was the issue with our work. We had a single contact within each of the agencies, at the Pentagon, Langley, so on. That's who reached out to us with
contract work. I knew each of them either by name or alias, but none like Frank Skinner. At one time, he and I had been partners. Agents in the SIS. But
even when the job came from him, we never knew the identities of the players behind the contracts, or how high up the command came from. And it never
mattered. Bear and I continued to play the part of the good soldiers. We did as requested without asking questions or demanding proof. Both of us felt that
if we were sent to terminate a target, there was a good reason why.

Bear said, "You wanna tell Frank?"

I nodded. "As soon as we get back to our place."

"We staying?"

I tapped on the glass. "We're not getting out in this mess. Not today."

Bear stuffed half a pancake in his mouth and nodded.

Ten minutes later, we paid for the meal and left the diner. Despite the weather, cabs were still running. Bear flagged one down and we slogged through the
gathering snow to Manhattan. We both lived in D.C., but spent enough time in New York and flying out of JFK that it made sense to keep an apartment. It
wasn't much, less than eight hundred square feet, but it offered a base away from home. We purchased it under a friend's name. No one knew about it. Not
even Frank. At least, as far as I knew.

I had a feeling that theory was about to be put to the test.

FIVE FLIGHTS OF stairs waited for us. The elevator had been broken since before we bought the place eighteen months ago. Every time we visited, we trudged
up and down those stairs. It was a good way to meet people. Problem was, we didn't care to meet anyone. It was bad for us, and dangerous for them. Since we
were only there once or twice a month, it wasn't a big deal. I imagined the other residents felt the same way.

Our heavy footsteps echoed through the chamber. There was little to fear in the building. There was also little point in taking unnecessary risks. I held
my pistol and draped my jacket over my arm to conceal the weapon. Bear pulled the reinforced steel door that barricaded the fifth floor from the stairwell.
He held it open long enough for me to enter, then pushed past me and stepped into the empty corridor, which smelled like it had been shampooed recently.
Our condo fees in action.

We passed two doors on the left and right and stopped in front of our unit. I couldn't remember if I'd set a marker last time we were there. If so, it was
gone.

Bear leaned into the dimpled red door. "You leave the television on this morning?"

"I wasn't here this morning," I said.

"Then someone's in there." His big fingers swallowed the doorknob and inched to the right. He looked at me. "Unlocked."

We hesitated and stared at each other for a few moments. Could Taylor have found our location that quickly? If he was going to do something, it would have
been in his building, on his turf, where he had control. Perhaps someone else had found out about the condo. We worked with people in the business of
knowing everything, so I couldn't discount the possibility.

I pushed Bear to the side and grabbed the knob, turned it slowly, pushed the door open. And when I saw who was sitting there, I wished it had been related
to the job.

"Weren't gonna bother telling me you were in town?"

Clarissa Abbot. A beautiful redhead with the temper to match. I'd known her for over ten years, back when she was a gangly pre-teen who played baseball and
watched wrestling. She had lost her mother young, and her father had done the best he could. He was the connection we shared. Colonel Abbot had been my CO
during my time in the Marines. When he was murdered, I took over as her guardian, although she was over eighteen at the time. She and I had been dating for
four months. I had almost eight years on her. She was too beautiful for me.

The whole thing was a disaster in the making, and both of us signed up for front row seats.

I took a few steps inside and scanned the room before focusing on her. "I like your hair like that. You lighten it up a bit since I last saw you?"

"Don't even try it, Jack." She rose from the couch, turned, and walked toward the back window. She stood there for a moment, silent, then peeled back the
curtains, letting the snow-soaked light in.

"I'm here for work," I said. "Thought it was going to be a quick in-and-out kind of deal. Things didn't go smoothly, so we stopped by here to regroup and
refocus."

She looked over her shoulder, past me, toward the door. "Hello, Riley."

Bear held up both hands in retreat and said, "I can wait in the hall."

Clarissa shrugged. "Don't matter to me. I'm leaving."

I intercepted her as she made for the door. With my hands on her shoulders, I thought she might take a moment and think it through. Instead, she pulled
away from my grasp and drove her shoulder into mine as she passed.

"How'd you even find out I was here?" I said.

"For someone who needs to remember faces in order to stay alive, you're pretty inept. You know that, Jack?"

Aside from a few homeless guys and cab drivers and maybe the aging prostitutes, I hadn't run into anybody she might have known.

Shaking her head, she said, "You remember Alexis?"

I didn't, but decided against admitting to the fact.

"One of my friends. You met her before we started dating."

I shrugged, said nothing.

"Jesus, Jack. Blonde, sometimes with weird highlights in her hair. About my age. Shorter than me. Works in a coffee shop. Any of that ring a bell?"

"The woman from the café this morning?"

Clarissa nodded and folded her arms over her chest. The look on her face reeked of attitude. And it wasn't an act. She was tough as nails.

"You might want to have a talk with her, because she was all over me."

"All you guys are the same. Overconfident, egotistical maniacs. Once she realized you didn't recognize her, she tried to trap you. She didn't realize you
left the phone behind simply because you're dumb."

I pointed at Bear. "That was him. And, hey, at least I've got you to knock me down a peg or two when my head swells up like a football."

"Shut up, Jack." She looked away.

Bear laughed from the doorway.

"You too," she said with a look that caused the big man to take a step back.

Bear said, "I don't think I've ever seen you this mad."

"This is nothing," I said.

"I'm leaving. Don't bother calling me next time you're in town."

Bear stepped into the apartment so she could get out. The steel door to the stairwell slammed against the concrete wall and banged shut.

"Sorry about that," Bear said.

I shrugged. I'd seen it before. "She'll cool off. Might be worth me staying around an extra night to make peace with her."

"You know Frank won't let you do that while the target's on the run."

"Let's find out."

I pulled a Winslow Homer knock-off down from the wall. The safe it hid had a ten-digit number pad. I punched in the code and pulled the door open. Inside
was ten thousand in cash, mostly twenties and fifties, three false passports and matching drivers' licenses, a back-up Beretta and extra ammunition, and
seven clean and disposable cell phones.

The safe served as my own safe deposit box. And I didn't have to show my face on camera to access it. A second safe located in the bedroom closet contained
Bear's belongings. I assumed they were similar to mine. Hadn't ever looked to verify.

I flipped the phone open. Frank's number was on speed dial. I pressed the button, then switched the call to speaker so Bear could listen in when he
returned from the bedroom.

Frank answered on the second ring. "What the hell happened this morning?"

I looked up at Bear, who had just stepped into the room carrying a black bag. He shrugged. Guess I was on my own for the explanation.

"Well?" Frank said.

"I take it you heard."

"Yeah, I heard. So far, I've been able to contain it."

"How'd you find out?"

"Don't you worry about that, Jack. What you and that overgrown partner of yours need to do is figure out where this guy went and then go get him."

"He was an hour ahead of us."

"How do you know that?"

"The body in his bed was still warm."

"You're kidding," Frank said. "Anybody we know?"

"Only people that knew this guy were other homeless and maybe a package store purveyor."

Frank exhaled loudly. It sounded like wind blasting through a tunnel. "I need you back in D.C., but that isn't going to happen today with this monster
storm passing through. They've been canceling flights left and right. Do what you can from there, and I'll be in touch soon."

"Frank?"

There was a pause, then he said, "Yeah?"

"Any idea how this guy knew we were coming?"

"You tail him, or Riley?"

"Bear did."

"That's probably how, then."

"Bear's good at what he does. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not sure, Jack. Hopefully I'll have some answers by the time you get back. In the meantime, hit the streets around his building and see
if anyone saw or knows anything. I'll keep working my angles."

"Ten-four." I flipped the phone shut and set it down on the counter. I'd have to get a new cell to replace this one, as it was now known.

"What do you think?" Bear said.

"I'm thinking that I hope this guy doesn't know it was us after him. He's got friends. Same type of friends you and I have. Maybe worse."

"Can't get much worse than the people you and I know."

"Never say that. If he goes to them, and gets them to come after us, not even Frank is gonna stick his neck out to help."

Bear placed his forearm on the counter and leaned over it. "You scared, Jack?"

I shook my head. "Not scared. Concerned."

A FOOT OF snow left travelers stranded at the airports. All flights in and out had been canceled by three that afternoon. The news showed footage of people
fighting over empty seats at the gates, each of which was packed so tight that people had resorted to sitting and sleeping on the floor, using luggage as
makeshift furniture and pillows. Lines for the fast food joints snaked down the terminal aisles. In short, a total mess.

With the airport a no-go and less than no chance we'd take a bus, our only other option was to take one of the cars. That would have been more frustrating
than sleeping on the worn corn chip-scented airport terminal floor. Driving ten miles per hour, packed tight on the iced-over southbound lanes of I-95 held
little appeal. In a day it'd be as though the storm had never happened. For now, though, the city was at a standstill.

So we stayed. And Bear and I worked our phones and called our contacts until five that afternoon. None of our sources knew anything. We were hamstrung with
most. We couldn't mention the target by name. We spoke in generalities. The results received were proportionate to the information we gave them.

Perhaps Frank was having better luck. The man had contacts in every agency, every branch of the military. The DOD. DOJ. Congress. Even the people he'd
pissed off in the past would go out of their way to help the guy. I hoped for good news from him. He'd let us know soon enough.