One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [132]
Moving through the FBO to the flight line, I grinned. “Like old times. Except for that little ‘you’re on your own’ thing.”
Kurt wished us luck, holding his hand out to Jennifer. She graciously returned the shake.
He shook my hand, saying, “Look, I want to stop this as much as you do. Do what you do best and we can both rest easy.”
I returned the handshake, feeling a little embarrassed at my outbursts earlier. “Sorry about yelling at you. I understand your position. I won’t let you down.”
I held his hand a little longer than necessary and locked eyes with him.
“Don’t let me down either.”
PART FOUR
79
Inside his Crystal City office, Lucas closed out the tracking Web site in disgust. It had grown dark outside, and he wondered if he had missed the opportunity to take out his prey. The pager beacon had gone to Arlington National Cemetery, then had driven aimlessly about for the next couple of hours. It had finally stopped at the Dulles Fixed Base Operations center, where it had remained ever since. That meant one thing: the beacon, and presumably whoever was carrying it, had flown somewhere. Due to the length of time it had remained stationary, that flight was taking some time, either going across the country or out of it.
He picked up the phone to relay the bad news. When Standish answered, Lucas went secure and got right to the point.
“We missed both targets. The beacon signal itself has become stationary at Dulles, which leaves me to believe the targets are airborne moving to another location. Do you wish to proceed?”
For a moment he heard nothing but breathing on the other end, disgusting him. Weasel can’t make a decision. He’d last about eight seconds in combat.
“Well, yes, I guess so,” Standish said. “We need to get it done.”
“Even if it means going to a foreign country? You willing to risk that?”
“Is that what they’re doing?”
“I won’t know until the beacon lands, but the last report was over four hours ago, so they’re flying a long ways. What do you want me to do?”
“What have you done so far?”
Lucas proceeded to tell him about the lead they had gleaned from Ethan’s phone call the night before, clinically using terms such as asset information and neutralizing further exposure. Before he could continue with the morning’s events, Standish put two and two together and interrupted the conversation.
“Whoa! Wait a minute! Don’t tell me you’re involved in that multiple murder in Herndon. Lucas—”
“Yeah, that was me.”
“Jesus Christ! They’re calling it a Charles Manson copycat killing, for God’s sake! They think a psycho gang’s on the loose. Are you insane? Four people were fucking slaughtered. Tortured to death.”
Lucas wanted to reach through the phone and rip out Standish’s heart. You coward. Just like everyone else. Want to get the job done, but don’t have the balls for the work.
“Listen to me, you self-righteous blowhard, you gave me my mission parameters and I’m still within them. I’m accomplishing the fucking mission. You don’t like how I’m doing it, then you should’ve specified some restrictions beforehand. Now shut the fuck up and let me finish my situation report.”
ON THE OTHER END OF THE LINE, Standish felt sick to his stomach. Not because of the deaths in Herndon, but because of the possible exposure to himself. He was barely listening to the rest of Lucas’s situation report, frantically going through all of the ties that connected them, when something Lucas said clicked, bringing him back into the conversation.
“... So we were forced to exfil without terminating either target. From there we regrouped, waiting on contact from the asset’s phone you gave me ...”
Holy shit. He did the drive-by shooting in Clarendon as well? That can’t be right. No way is that right.
“Wait ... wait. Are you telling me you’re also responsible for the