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Duser approached Cameron with a new weapon in his hand. «Let's go get the girl.»
«No.» Cameron was appalled.
«Don't worry about the cops. They'll be busy enough with the first crime scene.»
«No. We're done for the day.» He rubbed his temples and muttered, «This is going to be all over the news.»
«Big deal. Reporters don't catch criminals, cops do, and we have nothing to worry about. Any evidence that might tie us to that hit just exited the other end of this warehouse.»
Cameron was tempted to ask where it was headed and then thought better of it. «Nope. We're done for the day.»
«What in the hell is wrong with you?» Duser took a step forward. «We have to keep moving while we've got surprise on our side.»
«No, we don't. For the last time… we're done for the day.»
Duser looked as if he wanted to choke someone. «Bullshit! We move now; and we keep moving. I'm telling you, man, we're going to have to deal with them sooner or later, and we're better off doing it right now.»
Cameron shook his head. He did not like the idea of further exposure. Duser sensed this might be the problem and said, «Listen, you stay here, and we'll take care of it. I want Villaume alone and on the run.»
He thought about it for a second and said, «No. Change of plans. I want Villaume, too, and the girl will lead us to him as soon as she finds out about Lukas. We keep Juarez under surveillance, and then we take both of them.»
Duser liked that idea. «Good plan. I'm sorry I got in your face. I'm just a little pumped up right now.»
It's probably all that speed you took, Cameron thought to himself. «That's all right, just make sure you don't lose Juarez. She's our only link to the Frog.»
A minute later, Cameron watched as Duser and McBride got into a Ford Taurus and left. Maybe he was having the wrong people killed. No, he thought to himself. Duser was unpolished and wild. but he could be controlled.
RAPP HAD SPENT the night on Marcus Dumond's couch with a 9-mm Beretta clutched firmly in his left hand. Any thoughts of keeping Dumond out of it were gone. Rapp had come to grips with the fact that he needed some help. One huge question remained. Did Irene Ke
The two men were sitting at Dumond's kitchen table. The apartment was a good-sized one-bedroom. The kitchen had a small breakfast nook, and the dining room had been converted into Dumond's office. An eight-foot solid oak door laid across stacked cinder blocks served as a desk. The surface was covered with three computer monitors, mouses, keyboards, sca
Dumond was shoveling Cap'n Crunch cereal into his mouth while Rapp gave him instructions. «Make sure you don't set off any alarms while you're digging around.»
Dumond looked up, a drop of milk ru
«Yeah, but this is different. This time you'll be hacking into files at Langley and the Pentagon.»
Dumond gri
Rapp eyed him for a moment. Dumond had a smart-ass streak in him a mile wide. «Don't jerk my chain, Marcus.»
«I'm not. I'm usually in the Pentagon's system at least once a day.»
«And Langley's?»
«I'm on the system.»
«But what about areas where you're not supposed to be.»
«Not every day, but I've been known to look around from time to time.»
«How often?»
«Every day.» Dumond shoved another spoonful in his mouth.
«Does Irene know that you do this?»
«No… not always.»
Rapp shook his head like a troubled father.» Marcus, I'm telling you for your own good, you'd better watch what you're doing. You open up the wrong person's file, and you might suddenly disappear.» Rapp snapped his fingers.
«How are they going to catch me when they don't even know I've been there? Hmm?»
«Marcus, I know you're good, but no one's perfect. You keep screwing around like this, and you're go
Dumond heeded the warning. «All right… all right.» He got up and dumped the rest of his cereal down the garbage disposal. His appetite was suddenly gone.
A few minutes later, they left the four-plex, Dumond out the front and on his way to Langley, Rapp out the back and on his way to a storage shed in the sticks. Rapp walked eight blocks to Wisconsin Avenue and went underground, where he caught the Metro going north. He was wearing the same clothes from the night before – his baseball cap, a sweatshirt, his khakis, and blue te
The only other person in the car pulled out a cell phone and started talking. Rapp's hand slid over to one of the outer pockets on the backpack and patted it. Dumond had given him a digitally encrypted phone. He told Rapp it was safe to use whenever he wanted and for as long as he wanted. But Rapp, always the skeptic, pla
The desire to see A
IRENE KENNEDY ENTERED the conference room on the seventh floor of the CIA's headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and set her notepad on the table. Lunch would have to wait. This meeting had been sprung on her. The rectangular room was adjacent to the director's office. Bland and functional, it contained a long mahogany table and a dozen leather chairs. The room was swept every morning by the Administration Directorate's Office of Security – the CIA's Gestapo, as it was affectionately referred to by some of the Agency's more than twenty thousand employees. Hidden behind the curtains were small devices that caused the windows to vibrate, making penetration by a parabolic microphone impossible. For obvious reasons, the CIA took its security seriously, and in very few places was it taken more seriously than the executive suite of the seventh floor.