Chapter Eleven

C arlson sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position. This city will be the death of me! He absolutely knew it. The sports fans, in particular, were dreadful to deal with. Considering that he was from Boston, there wasn’t much that would change that. People in Boston hated people in Philly almost as much as they hated people from New York. That was essentially drilled into their DNA, so there wasn’t much anybody could do about it. It probably had something to do with the original colonies back in the Revolution days.

He suppressed his irritation and plucked a glass from the limo’s bar. From the heft, it was made of crystal—for the most part. Even though he was forced to hire everything from a third party these days, he always made sure that anything that catered specifically to him was top-of-the-line. Which meant that the amber liquid in the decanter with a similar amount of crystal in the making had to be at least thirty-year-old scotch as he’d personally requested. He poured five fingers of the liquid into his glass, replaced the decanter, and took a moment to inhale the rich aroma before taking a sip. It burned in the most delicious manner all the way down his throat, which prompted him to take in a deep breath and inspect it again.

There were problems. He wasn’t sure what they were exactly, but he knew they were there. He’d read into Courtney’s particularly troublesome history after Covington had been spectacularly outplayed by the woman. It was impressive. There weren’t many trained soldiers who survived that long in the Zoo, much less specialists, and she had been in it from the beginning. He’d read some therapy session the woman had attended in which she’d complained about having to live in the shadow of her academically accomplished father. There was also the fact that he’d been the one to get her working on the goop project in the first place, but there was something about her that…well, that scared him.

Of course, she had to go. There were problems that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend which started with where the goop came from in the first place. Allowing her into the project would end badly, he knew it. Something was in the works—some kind of serious trouble. It was on the horizon, but everyone was too concerned with their attempt to get their share of the loot to see it. Not Carlson, though. He saw the bigger picture.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t respect the woman he was up against as a real competitor, as well as her teammates. The rest of her squad were still in the Zoo. Anderson, who had been squeamish about what Carlson and Pegasus had done there had been brought in as the inside man. And now, somebody else had joined her team. Or somebodies. He still wasn’t sure. The video footage had predictably turned up squat, which meant that they had someone with technical skills on their side. Honestly, how did four men end up in the hospital without so much as a peep to the men and women on the other side of the security team’s radios? That worried him.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Courtney had pulled it off. She had, after all, taken care of the goons whom Covington had sent after her with impressive skill. He’d read that report too—and it made for some fun reading—and yet he knew that she wouldn’t risk herself by taking this on personally. He was also aware of the fact that she hadn’t left the conference room for the duration of the meeting.

Someone had come up the stairs and taken out his security team, one that he’d picked personally for his own protection. He or she had made it all the way to the rooftop where he was alone and vulnerable, with no eyes watching, and simply left.

That didn’t make sense. If they had him out in the open like that and didn’t take the shot, it meant that he wasn’t the target. They were after something else and considering that they were gone by the time he’d discovered his team in the stairwell, it could only mean that they had probably acquired what they came for.

Carlson shook his head. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that medical personnel were already on the scene before he’d even made the call. Why would someone who had beaten his people up like that bother to make sure they received medical attention?

It didn’t add up. The only way that it made sense, to his mind, was if they were somehow unaffiliated with Anderson or Monroe. Which was possible, he was willing to admit, even if it was unlikely. Who would want to come after him? No, that was a metaphorical can of worms that he wasn’t willing to crack open just yet. He’d save it for the congressional hearing.

He stepped out of the limo as it came to a halt and didn’t bother to wait for the driver to open the door for him. Never let it be said that he was a lazy fuck who couldn’t get his own hands dirty. He smiled at the pleasantly confused expression on the driver’s face, pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket, and slipped it to the man in a smooth handshake.

“Thank you, sir.” The driver tipped his hat with a soft chuckle and slipped the bill into his jacket pocket.

“No, thank you .” Carlson felt the midday sun begin to bake through the black silk suit he wore. “You made some excellent time. I’ll be sure to mention that to your boss.”

He didn’t wait for a response but proceeded across the open tarmac to the private jet that already taxied toward him. He hadn’t liked submitting this travel to the new powers that be, but he still needed to kiss the ring, no matter what else he was supposed to do.

A man in a suit and sunglasses carried what looked like an Uzi under his jacket and waited at the door of the jet. After the recent developments, he simply couldn’t be too cavalier with his own security. The guard spoke quickly into a wrist-mounted radio as the executive climbed the steps into the cabin, where a pretty, young blonde stewardess waited for him. She smiled and guided him to one of the seats.

“We’ll take off momentarily, Mr. Carlson,” she said with a smile. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, darling, thank you.” He forced a charming smile as he buckled into his seat.

“Of course,” she responded crisply and walked away as the plane moved across the runway again. A few seconds later, she placed a glass with an amber liquid swirled over three ice cubes in front of him.

“Our chef will prepare your lunch once we’re in the air, Mr. Carlson,” she said. “Until then, we ask that you please remain in your seat and observe the fasten seatbelt and no smoking sign. Please enjoy your flight.”

Carlson nodded and leaned back in the plush, leather seat as the plane gradually accelerated. While he wasn’t particularly fond of flying, doing so in luxury could assuage any bad feelings. He simply couldn’t imagine what the people who had to fly coach went through.

“I hate flying coach,” Jeremiah muttered and tried to stretch his legs as he made his way with the rest of the passengers toward the baggage claim. It hadn’t been that long a trip, but the flight had been overbooked, which meant that he had been crammed like a sardine into a giant flying tube of aluminum for a few hours. Honestly, that would not improve anybody’s mood, even on a good day. A bruised rib and issues with closed spaces on top of that made him a very unhappy customer when he finally stepped off the flight.

Which meant that he didn’t give a solitary flying fuck about who might be concerned about him talking to himself. Well, he wasn’t really talking to himself, but he didn’t see the need to share that he had a Russian woman talking to him through an earpiece. People were paranoid enough about flying in this day and age. It was best to simply let them think that he was crazy.

“Well, I would have tried to get some first-class tickets, but they were all out,” Anja replied.

“Really?” he asked.

“No, genius,” she snapped. “Having someone like you show up as a first-class passenger on the flight list with money from Pegasus would raise all kinds of red flags—the kind we don’t need raised. Nobody questions a couple of hundred bucks lost from the budget, especially if it’s quickly replaced. And that’s all it costs for a quick flight to Charleston, which is what you needed. Now, all you need to do is rent a car and get your ass over to where Carlson is getting his corporate kiss-ass on.”

It was a pain in the butt, but he’d requested the longer route. Irrespective of what happened down the line, he needed to be sure that no one could tie him directly to Carlson or even his location. Under the radar sometimes meant the painful delays.

“Which one of my IDs should I use to rent it?” he asked and already knew that he would pay cash for it. He pushed through the crowd and hovered impatiently at the baggage claim. It would have been much quicker and easier to simply use a carry-on, but that wasn’t an option with a mobile life. He had no real base, and his entire life—literally—was in that damn duffle. Finally, the baggage came through and he snatched his off the conveyor belt and pushed through the crowd once more. He tried to walk slowly, but every instinct told him to keep moving and get the hell out of there.

“You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm while having a colonoscopy,” Anja snarked. “Why do you look so uncomfortable? You’re on the way to get the job done. You’re doing what you do best, right? There’s no need to be all…uptight about it.”

“It’s not that,” Jeremiah said and kept his voice low as he looked around. Airports had all the cameras that someone like Anja would want, but it left him feeling a little uncomfortable. He didn’t like knowing how easy it was for her to get around the kind of security that was supposed to protect these places.

“What is it, then?” she asked. “Come on, your ass is all clenched, your face is twisted… You’re making me nervous, Jer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “I feel…naked.”

“You could do with getting naked,” she replied immediately, almost as if she’d waited for the opportunity. “Preferably with someone else. Guy or gal. I don’t judge.”

“That’s really not what I meant,” he snapped. “I’m sure there would be TSA agents crawling up of my ass for saying this, but I need some weapons. Something. Knives, guns, anything. I like to think that I’m a good match for any Kevin-imitating sonofabitch, but in the end, there’s only so much I can do with the little I can get my hands on. There’s a limit to the number of bones I can break with sticks and stones.”

“I think I can help you with that,” she replied. “Kevin? Who’s Kevin?”

“Come on, you have all the references down pat, but you don’t know about Home Alone and the tiniest epitome of bad-assitude called Kevin McCallister?” he asked and managed to sound horrified. “Anyway, if I have to track Carlson everywhere I go, I’ll need something to defend myself with. I guess I could probably pick a hunting rifle up in the nearest Walmart, but they still require a background check and I don’t think that either of my IDs can stand up to that kind of scrutiny. I know there are always ways around all that, but my contacts either think I’m dead or are on the other side of the fucking world.”

Anja sighed softly into his ear. He scowled and tried not to snap at her and insist that she stop doing that. While he didn’t much care to have the people in his ear respond like that, he could tolerate it if they didn’t behave like they knew they had a very captive audience.

“What?” he demanded finally.

“Well, I have some contacts in the area,” she replied. “They aren’t really the most respectable folks, or the most trustworthy, but they won’t ask for IDs. And they do think that I’m a force to be reckoned with, so there is a small deterrence factor that you can count on. It’s not much, but I think it should be enough. I’ll get in touch with them to see if they’re packing and are willing to take on a new customer.”

“Deterrence, eh?” Savage asked, a little intrigued despite his ill humor. “My, my, Anja, are you secretly a powerhouse?”

“Nothing secret about it, Jer,” she said with gay assurance. “Sure, not all of us can beat security goons up on a flight of stairs, but there are other ways to make people fear you. Knowing as much as I do about the people I encounter makes them think of me as something of a modern-day deity. They usually forget that I’m only a girl behind a keyboard.”

“Right,” he acknowledged with a sigh and decided not to get into what she might be able to find out about him if she put her mind to it. “Well, I do appreciate that. In the meanwhile…” He looked around him and tried to follow the signs that were placed specifically to help navigate the hellhole that was the Charleston airport.

It took him a few minutes and a great deal of patience to get a feel for how the place was laid out before he finally located the car-rental agencies. As things stood, he realized that he would definitely need to keep his presence there as quiet as possible. When he was asked to present a driver’s license and credit card to rent the car, he gave them the cards that were associated with the name that Anderson had given him.

When given an option of which vehicle to hire, he knew he couldn’t go for anything flashy or large. While he needed to be mobile, he also needed to be inconspicuous, which in turn meant that he needed something American.

A Ford Taurus was his final selection. It was a ten-year-old model but still in reasonable shape, although some of the red paint peeled away from an obviously puttied dent on the left fender. Still, he’d deliberately chosen the smaller rental company over the big names so could hardly expect the latest models. Discretion, at this point, was the order of the day.

“There’s a reason why people in my line of business like to use rental cars over actually buying something, you know,” Jeremiah said as he strolled through the parking lot until he reached the car that matched the keys he was given at the desk.

“And what business is that?” Anja asked. She sounded a little more curious than he would have given her credit for.

“Killing people in a clandestine manner,” he answered matter-of-factly. “People rent cars all around the world. People need killing all around the world too.”

“And you’ve been all around the world?” she asked. “Killing people?”

“On Uncle Sam’s dime,” he said bluntly. “Where do you think I got all these skills that have us working together? Anyway, the reason why people like me prefer rental cars instead of driving our own is simple. Every time you’re finished with one of these cars, you turn it in, and they have to clean it. It doesn’t mean they always do, of course, but if you mess the inside of the car up enough, they have to go at it with all the cleaning ingredients they can find.”

“Which conveniently wipes away any trace of the fact that you were in the car in the first place,” Anja replied, and he could hear a soft creak of what he assumed was a chair. He could picture her as she leaned back in her office. “That’s actually smart.”

“That, added to the fact that there’s a fake name and social in the registry of the rental company and you have yourself a vehicle that nobody could ever trace back to you.” He slipped in behind the wheel.

“How did you learn all this?” she asked as he started the vehicle and eased slowly out of the parking garage. “I mean, I doubt there’s a textbook for international assassins somewhere. And I can’t imagine that you learned about this through experience.”

“Well, a little of both, if I’m honest. There are tricks you can pick up from people who have done it a lot longer than you have, which counts as a textbook, I guess. And the rest, you simply learn from common sense and trial and error. Or, in the case of a business where you don’t get to survive most of your mistakes, the errors of others. You know what they say, right? Success is earned by learning from the mistakes of others.”

“And would you say that you’re successful?” she asked as he pulled the Taurus onto the street and joined the traffic.

“Beware an old man in a profession where men usually die young,” Jeremiah said with a small smile.

“Aren’t you full of folksy wisdom today?” She laughed, and it lent a light quality to her that was almost appealing.

“What can I say?” His smile disappeared and his expression sobered. “I get maudlin when talking about my past. You should know that about old soldiers.”