Net Force - Tom Clancy [32]
You are criminal scum, Ruzhyo said. And you will pay for it very soon.
Sampson laughed. Good luck proving it, pal. Better men than you have tried. He leaned back into the seat, his face going hard. Ill be back on the street in time for dinner.
You will not, Ruzhyo said.
Yeah? Well, youre stupid if you think that.
No. You are the stupid one-you believe we are with the FBI.
The look on Sampsons face was a mix of fear and disbelief, but by then the Snake had his gun out and pressed it into the mans side. And you would be extremely stupid to attempt to move, the Snake said. The Russian accent was so thick in his voice you could lean against it without falling.
Jesus! Sampson said.
Afraid he aint gonna be offering you much help, hoss, Winters said.
What the hell is going on? Who are you? What do you want?
To feed the wolves a poisoned bait, Ruzhyo said.
The criminal frowned. He did not understand. Nor would he have time to worry over it. Fate had reached into the lottery basket and closed his cold hard fingers.
Luigi Sampsons number had been drawn.
10
Friday, September 17th, 2:30 p.m. New York City
Ray Genaloni was mad enough to kill somebody with his bare hands. The man who stood in front of his desk, one of Luigis bodyguards, was not delivering good news and he was the only target of opportunity-but that would be a bad idea, to kill him. Instead, Ray kept his temper held down, as if pressing a lid on a boiling pot to keep the steam from escaping.
Excuse me, Donald, Genaloni said, but what exactly do you mean the FBI doesnt have him?
We sent the lawyers, Boss. The feds say they didnt pick up Luigi.
But you and Randall say they did?
We had just come out of Chens. There were two of em, another one in the car. Luigi made them, and Randall and I know feds when we see them. Their IDs checked out, they are on the New York Bureau list, the car they were in had no-hit plates-which we ran through our police contacts and found they were blind-issued to the New York City FBI motor pool. They got him, all right.
Then why are they telling the lawyers they never heard of him?
Donald shook his head. I dont know.
Genaloni sat silent for maybe fifteen seconds. He saw the bodyguards sweat. Good. Let him be nervous. Finally, he said, Thats all. Go find something to do.
After the bodyguard left, Genaloni sat and stared at the wall. What the hell were the feds up to? Why were they putting the squeeze on him? Luigi was stand-up, they could threaten him with anything they wanted and he wouldnt give them shit, but We-aint-got-him was a new game. And it was one he didnt like. They were up to something and whatever it was, he didnt fucking like it.
Fine. They want to play cloak-and-dagger? No problem. He had a knife sharp enough to shave with just sitting around doing nothing. All he had to do was reach out and grab it. Well just see about this crap.
He picked up his phone. Scramble, code two-four-three-five, Sunshine, he said.
The phone said, Scrambled.
He punched in a number.
Well just see about this crap.
I understand, Mora Sullivan said, knowing her voice would not give her away.
She waved the phone off, stood and began a measured pacing.
Three steps this way, turn, three steps back, turn, then repeat, as she began to assimilate the assignment. The Selkie did not sit and meditate. Yes, she could be still when necessary, when the stalk required it, but at this stage the Selkie thought best when she moved, when she was on her feet, exploring avenues, watching for side roads, scheming.
She could become anything, anybody, and the world was her chew toy, but this would be a dangerous one. There could be no room for error. Nearly always on her assignments there was wiggle room, space for small mistakes. Though she never left anything undone if she knew about it, there had been occasions when she had made errors. Tiny things, those errors, not wide pathways