Net Force - Tom Clancy [112]
Coincidence only stretches so far. Our theory assumes that the woman who tried to kill me, who we think might have killed Steve Day, works for Genaloni. We know she was in New York to pay for the lost dog, and a few days later, Genaloni is killed by an expert who is about the same size. What does that say to you?
Could be the same person. But if she was working for Genaloni ?
Exactly. Why kill him?
Maybe he didnt want to pay her for missing you, she said.
Maybe, but it doesnt feel right, all of this. He thought about it for a second. What if were wrong about who had Steve Day killed? What if it was somebody who wanted to blame it on Genaloni? So maybe he found out and this woman deleted him. Maybe shes working for somebody else.
Thats a stretch.
Yeah, it is, but consider: Days assassination was by a team, and it was planned okay, but the execution was sloppy. A bunch of guys with submachine guns spraying all over the place, and even so, Day got one of them. Doesnt seem like this womans style. She seems more adept than that.
She missed you.
Only because the dog barked. A second later or earlier, Id be history.
So what are you saying here? There are two sets of killers?
I dont know. But its a possibility. We assumed that Days death was due to his long battle with organized crime. The way it was done, his history, that would make sense. But what if were wrong? What if somebody else did it? What if it wasnt connected to OC at all?
Okay, lets assume for a second youre right. Who? And why? Why would anybody want to take you out?
What do Day and I have in common?
Net Force. You took over as Commander when he died.
Exactly. What if the attacks werent on us personally, but on the heads of Net Force?
From two different sets of killers?
Yes.
They both thought about that for a moment without saying anything else.
There was a quick knock. They looked up to see Jay Gridley standing there.
Whats up, Jay?
Put in for my raise, Boss. We got her. The assassin. A positive ID.
35
Thursday, October 7th, 8:48 a.m. Quantico
Toni sat in her office, looking at the information Jay had developed. There was no photo or holograph to go with it. It was old material, and not much of that.
The fingerprints of the suspected assassin, lifted from the wall of a Holiday Inn in Schenectady, New York, had a match: They belonged to Mora Sullivan, an Irish national, the daughter of an IRA man killed by the British. When the prints were taken, little Mora had been eight years old. And from then on, there was no further record of the girl or woman in any of the computer systems linked to Net Force-which was most international police systems. She had vanished. Or, as Jay had said, somebody who knew what they were doing had cracked her records and vanished them, leaving no trace and no trail. The only reason they had these prints was luck, because they were hardcopy from an Irish police station that hadnt gotten around to being uploaded until theyd been discovered with a few hundred other sets of prints years after theyd been taken.
So what they had was her age, nationality and natural hair and eye color, along with her prints. Not a lot of help in recognizing her, given her ability with disguises. With wigs or hair dye, contact lenses and gloves, she could hide all of that; a little makeup and padded clothes, and her true age changed. She had already demonstrated that she could look a hefty forty or a frail seventy, and according to her records, she was only thirty-two. Even if theyd gotten a picture of little Mora, she and whatever she called herself now werent going to look much alike.
Still, more was better. When they finally ran her down, theyd be able to get a positive identification.
Tonis phone announced an incoming call. The caller ID strip lit with the name.
Her stomach twisted. Rusty. Shed been expecting the call, since he was returning hers, but even so, it tripped her fight-or-flight reactions. Sleeping with Rusty had been a mistake, she knew that, but she hadnt been able to figure out a way to tell