Net Force - Tom Clancy [67]
Bulavin is fond of both liquor and women, Khomyakov said. He has been discreet, careful to keep his activities in these areas confined to those which would not irritate his union members if they found out. Not too much drinking in public, the occasional fling with a secretary. Men are men, and not bothered by such things. Perhaps we could supply him a woman willing to doctor his liquor and engage in activities his members-and his wife-would find less than tasteful? There are many possibilities along these lines. And our woman would, of course, have an excellent holographic camera.
Razin said, Pah! You would put him in bed with a boy? A sheep? This is a womans answer to everything! If it moves, screw it!
Better, perhaps, than a mans answer-if it moves, kill it, she said. She smiled.
Plekhanov liked both her response and her solution. Brutes could be found anywhere; subtlety was more of a prize. A live enemy in your pocket was sometimes better than a dead one in the ground. Sometimes.
Well, at least he knew who the new President of Ukraine was going to be.
Thursday, September 30th, 11 p.m. Washington, D.C.
I bet youve never seen anybody get killed, have you, Scout?
The little dog wagged his tail, momentarily diverted from his sniffing and peeing. When it didnt seem as if the comment would lead to a command, he resumed his work.
In her old-woman disguise, the Selkie moved toward the targets condo. She had decided to do it tonight. The target was still awake, a bit late for him, but his reading light was on, and it was going to be simple, clean, in and out. By the time anybody knew he was dead, she would be home and Phyllis Markham would have vanished forever.
The Selkie bent down to pet the dog. As she did so, she unsnapped his leash, but said, Scout, heel.
She adjusted her thin white cotton gloves, took a grip on the cane and came slowly and painfully to her feet. When she continued on her gimpy way, the dog stayed with her. Anybody from more than a few feet away would likely think the toy poodle was still on the lead, especially if theyd seen them together before. People saw what you gave them to see.
When she got to the targets condo, she forced herself to take several deep breaths. No matter how many times she did a job, the adrenaline rush always came. Her heart raced, her breathing speeded up, she felt tight, itchy, anxious to move. It was something she could use, the rush, and part of the allure. If it ever got to the point where she didnt feel the touch of stage fright, the roiling butterflies in her belly, shed quit, no matter how much money she was shy of her goal. If she got that blasé, it would be too dangerous.
The darkness was alive with fall smells: foliage, grass, the perfume of a softener-sheet in somebodys clothes dryers exhaust. The air was sensually cool on her skin where she was not covered with makeup. The stars glittered through the city glow, hard gems in a mostly clear sky. A moth fluttered by, and his flight left ghostly trails in the night air. Sensations always turned psychedelically sharp when the life-and-death game came to its final moves. This was another part of the attraction.
One was never so alive as when dancing with Death.
She looked around, and saw she was alone. She urged Scout into the bushes to the left of the front door, where he couldnt be seen. Scout, down, stay, she said.
Obediently, the little dog sat, then stretched out. Shed tested him, and hed held that position for at least an hour.
She wouldnt need but five minutes at the outside. The Selkie moved to the door and rang the bell.
In bed, Alex Michaels dozed, the technical report balanced on his knees. The sound of his front doorbell jarred him awake. He looked at the bedside time display. Whod be here this hour of the night?
He got up, slipped a robe on over his naked self and belted it shut.
The doorbell rang again.
He frowned, still half asleep. It was probably somebody from work.
Yeah? How come they didnt call? They have your numbers.
He opened the drawer in his bedside