Termination Orders(66)

Cobra got up, looking satisfied with himself, and turned to walk away.

You think you won, don’t you? Hodges thought. He motioned for Keller to approach. Keller, who had quickly gotten to his feet despite his injured fingers, leaned down, and Hodges said quietly, “Follow that man. I want to know his real name, his address, and the name of his goddamn third-grade teacher by the end of the hour! And have the car brought around.” Keller motioned to the other two bodyguards and gave them instructions while cradling his injured left hand. Then he rushed out the door to follow Cobra. Hodges got up and charged behind him. The maître d’ made the slightest move to get in his way. “Put it on my tab,” Hodges barked at him. “And don’t you dare charge me for that overcooked steak!” He barged past, out of the restaurant, into the sunny DC street.

His town car pulled up. Once inside, he got out his phone, fumbled with the buttons, and made the call. The phone rang twice, and then he heard, “Les, what is it?”

“Ed,” he said, “I gotta see you. I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. I gotta see you right now.”





Morgan hit the street at a brisk pace, and with a mere glance toward the gray sedan he knew was parked on the curb across the street, he turned and began walking west. The street was a wide, one-way thoroughfare, sidewalks packed with pedestrians who occasionally broke off randomly to cross the street. The use of the crosswalk here, if it ever happened, was purely incidental.

“You think he’ll bite?” said Conley’s voice in Morgan’s ear.

“Yeah, he’ll bite,” said Morgan, after tacking a Bluetooth receiver to his ear for show. It would attract less attention if people thought he was on the phone, but the real transmitter was an undetectable earpiece that was lodged in his ear. It was state-of-the-art and practically invisible. Not the kind of equipment available at Radio Shack, but Conley still had the contacts in the city to hook them up. “I got a chance to size him up in there,” Morgan continued, dodging a woman with a baby stroller. “He’s got more balls than brains, that one. You got the tracker onto his car?”

“Without great complication,” said Conley.

“That’s why I always picked you as my partner, Peter. Now, what do you see?”

“You’ve got a tail,” said Conley, unworried. It was all part of the plan. “About thirty paces back and closing. Tall man, black hair. He looks like he’s holding something in his hands.”

“Yeah, that’ll be his fingers,” Morgan chuckled. He went on without looking back or giving any sign that he was aware of the man following him. “Just like old times, eh?” Morgan said jovially.

“I’d love to reminisce, Cobra, but I think your attention would be put to better use by concentrating on the mission, huh?”

“Just be where you need to be at the right time, and leave the rest to me.”

“Got it, partner. See you in”—a short pause—“three minutes, twenty-six seconds. Out.”

Morgan squeezed his way past pedestrians, sustaining a pace that was quick enough to keep his tail on the verge of losing him but not hurried enough to actually lose him.

Two blocks down, Morgan turned a corner, and the busy road became a tiny back street, wholly residential, with parked cars half on the sidewalk, where an old woman carrying groceries was the only soul in sight. He walked another block and didn’t have to look back to know that Keller was behind him and closing. That’s right, asshole, just keep coming.

Morgan turned into the alley and made right for the trash can. He took off the lid, stuck his hand in, and his fingers closed around the grip of Wagner’s tranquilizer gun, right where he’d left it, along with a tiny belt of spare darts. “Just in case,” Conley had said.

Morgan and Conley had predicted that he would be followed out of the restaurant and decided it wouldn’t do to kill someone in a crowded city. A corpse attracted police and the media. On the other hand, when people see a guy passed out in the alley, they assume he’s drunk and, for the most part, leave him alone.

Morgan hid behind a Dumpster and clicked the safety off. He had taken Keller by surprise in the restaurant. To be bodyguard to a guy like Hodges, Keller would have to have some serious combat training. Plus, he must be a good ten years younger than Morgan. This guy would be able to handle himself. All the more reason to bring him down with the first shot, he told himself.

He heard Keller’s footsteps, hurrying down the alley. This was going to be even easier than he had thought. He raised the gun to take aim. Keller would be wearing body armor, but the needle would go right through the bulletproof mesh. Morgan aimed it about chest-high and inhaled. Keller passed the Dumpster, moving at a measured trot toward the end of the alley. The dart left the muzzle with a whisper and plunged into Keller’s back. He yelped in surprise and spun around, a savage look on his face. Fall. Fall, Damn it! He didn’t. He saw Morgan and charged. With no time to reload, Morgan tossed aside the gun and the darts and braced for impact.