Black Friday (or Black Market) - James Patterson [121]
He thought about everything Trentkamp had been privy to in the past. He reviewed his own investigation of Green Band, how Trentkamp knew every detail he’d learned at each maddening turn.
Had Trentkamp dispatched him on the early wild goose chases? Why? Well, he knew the answer to that. So he could watch, and control Carroll. So he could control the DIA’s terrorist group. Talk to me on this one, Archer. Let me know what you find out. Will you promise me that?
Talk to me, Archer …
Promise me, Archer!
Walter Trentkamp had sat in on the highest level meetings inside the White House, always observing and studying. What incredible self-confidence and gall. How many years had this been going on? How many years? … Francois Monserrat! The most ruthless of the world’s terrorists was none other than Trentkamp. It was impossible for him to conceive of. Yet it was true.
The rage inside Carroll seemed to clutch and rip at the back of his throat, tearing at his flesh. He’d been used. Just like the Vets, he’d been used. He’d been violated one more time. Contradictions attacked his mind from every angle.
Carroll moved forward toward Trentkamp and Hudson. The rage inside him heightened. He was fighting against the blind, overwhelming urge to wildly fire his Browning. He wanted to pull the trigger. Right now, he ached to fire on these two men. He couldn’t; he couldn’t shoot. Somehow, he was more than a trained killer. And what are you, please tell me, mister? Somehow he was more than these other two bastards.
Carroll finally stepped out from behind the shadowy retaining wall. He spoke in a whisper that carried with the wind.
“Hello, Walter. I wanted to keep my promise. I did promise to talk to you about everything I found out.”
Trentkamp’s face registered surprise, then the terrorist seemed almost indifferent to Carroll’s presence. He was Monserrat now.
“It was never anything personal,” he spoke, then shrugged at Carroll. “You were my listok. That’s a Russian word. You were my solution to a problem.”
Carroll raised his Browning to eye level. Colonel Hudson … Francois Monserrat … himself. It seemed that none of them could win. Carroll wasn’t even sure what “win” meant now. And what are you, please tell me, mister?
“How do you live a life made of nothing but lies?” He edged closer to Hudson and Trentkamp. “Nothing but deceit and lies.”
“I don’t believe in the same truths as you. It follows that I don’t believe in the same lies. Don’t you realize that you’re living with lies, too. Your own people have deceived you again and again…. Everyone has lied to you, Archer. Your government is the greatest lie of all.”
Chapter 94
NOTHING BUT HIS INSTINCTS counted from here on.
Colonel Hudson rigidly held that thought.
Nothing but his reflexes counted.
Hudson had a flashing image of the camp in Norm Viet Nam. Lessons he had learned there.
Deception, Hudson remembered. Sometimes you even had to deceive yourself …
Monserrat was like the Lizard Man, he thought. Monserrat was the same as the Lizard Man.
Instincts.
Reflexes.
Monserrat seemed to be concentrating on Carroll … “Everyone has lied to you, Archer. Your government is the greatest lie of all.”
A scream rose from Hudson’s throat. At that moment, Hudson’s arm chopped upward in a short, powerful arc.
The bone in Monserrat’s elbow shattered. The Beretta dropped. A harsh growl escaped from his mouth—his teeth were bared like an animal’s.
A needle-thin knife seemed to appear from nowhere in Hudson’s hand. A pocket in his trousers flopped open in the wind.
Assassin.
Monserrat took a fast, agile step away from Hudson and the knife. Monserrat was better than the Lizard Man had been.
David Hudson followed as if he were Monserrat’s shadow. The sleek stiletto lanced forward, an extension of his arm. Everything was instincts, reflexes for survival.
Francois Monserrat’s hands rose and shielded his face, shielded his upper body. His arm was slashed. It seemed nothing to him.
He was moving into a martial arts crouch, almost dancing.
Hudson screamed as he feinted one