155

Parkerson stared at his cell phone. The target had escaped. He was safe. And he’d brought a woman with him.

A woman. Parkerson rubbed his eyes. What was the kid doing picking up girls? And why the hell had he lied about her?

He’d told Parkerson she was a civilian he’d protected. Had flat-out denied she’d been inside his apartment. The asset had sworn the girl was inside when he’d arrived. She was Lind’s goddamn friend. And he’d lied about her.

The whole situation made Parkerson’s head hurt. After Miami and Las Vegas and now the bullshit with this girl, it was clear that Lind was no longer the reliable drone he’d once been. He was a liability now, unpredictable. Altogether too human.

He had to be stopped.

THE ASSET CALLED DAVID GILMOUR answered his phone. “Sir?”

“The target has been located,” the man told him. “He’s parked off Interstate 95 just across the Delaware state line. Exit 6. Find them.”

The asset stood up and walked to the door. “Interstate 95,” he said. “Exit 6.”

“He’s driving a black Ford Mustang coupe. The woman’s still with him. Terminate them both.”

The asset nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Call me when you’ve completed your mission,” said the man. “We’ll bring you home. But treat the target with caution. He has a gun in that Mustang. And he’s dangerous with a weapon.”

The asset couldn’t help grinning. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll eliminate them both.”

He rode the elevator down to street level. Found the rental car where he’d parked it and settled behind the wheel. Slipped the target’s pistol between the driver’s seat and the center console and pointed the car at the highway, feeling his wound throbbing and looking forward to settling the score.