Part 19 (2/2)

Bosa dropped back into his seat. ”Over the years there's been speculation about that, but it's an impossible question to answer. All of us have strengths, and merely living as long as we have says we're d.a.m.n good.”

”You don't know who sent the e-mail?” Judd asked.

”When I say 'untraceable,' I mean it. I have a stable of black hatters that would make Russia drool. They couldn't find the source. I was in touch with Krot, and his people couldn't find it either. I have to a.s.sume the Padre and Eli Eichel were unsuccessful as well.”

”You said the e-mail went to all six of you,” Judd said. ”That should've at least given you a way to contact each other.”

Bosa shook his head. ”The sender addressed the e-mail to us, but he sent it out individually. The first time I knew there was something to it was when Krot confirmed receiving it, too. He was in touch with Eli Eichel, and Eichel confirmed it to Krot. We already had certain loose alliances. For instance, I was working with Krot, while he was working with Eli Eichel. Because of Eli, Krot learned the Padre had doubled you, and he told me. Anyone who got in the way was going to get scrubbed, and that included both of you.”

”So Morgan died when his car was bombed in Paris,” Judd ruminated. ”The Padre died at his hunt club in Maryland. You killed Eli Eichel and his brother in Martin Chapman's library. That leaves Krot, Seymour, and you. How good is Krot?”

”The best. I hired a surveillance expert to follow him. According to her, he's been playing tourist with a schoolteacher staying at the same hotel. There's no sign he's been searching for Seymour, even though his latest e-mail to me claims he's 'close' to finding him.”

”Why Marrakech?” Eva wondered.

Bosa shrugged. ”Don't have a clue. What's concerning me is I just got an e-mail from my surveillance woman reporting Krot was continuing his daily routine, but her e-mail arrived much later than usual. And even stranger, she didn't ask to be paid for her report. I have to a.s.sume her abnormal behavior and Krot's unexplained choice of Marrakech could indicate problems for me.”

”Have you told Krot that the Padre and the Eichel brothers are dead?” Judd asked.

”Only that the Padre is, and I said I had the Padre's limestone pieces. If he thinks I've stopped looking for Eichel, he might suspect I'm planning to pay him a surprise visit. I'm not fond of walking into a propeller blade, and that's what Marrakech feels like. I could go in disguise-that's effective 99.9 percent of the time. But it's d.a.m.n hard to fool colleagues. You saw how quickly Eli Eichel recognized me even though I was wearing Chapman's snow gear and my face and hair were different. We're vulnerable that way.”

”So your second idea is us,” Judd said. ”You need us to help you.”

”If you're as good as I think, Judd, you should be able to get close and scope out the situation,” Bosa said. ”I want two things. First, the location of Seymour, and second, a safe, controlled environment where Krot and I can meet.” He gazed steadily at Judd, ignoring Eva.

Before Judd could say anything, Eva turned to him. He could feel waves of outrage sizzle from her.

”Judd, I need to know more about the mission, don't you?” Her tone was so naive she was almost batting her eyes.

Bosa interrupted sharply. ”You're too inexperienced for this, young lady. I can't have any more f.u.c.kups. You're staying on the plane.”

”Well,” she drawled, ”I'm not sure how anyone could f.u.c.k up more than you have, Alex. First, you can't collect money that's owed you. Don't you have a rule about wiping anyone who stiffs you? You do, and you couldn't pull that off either. Then you let Morgan drop the tablet and break it. Hmm. And finally, when you realized one of your 'colleagues' was coming after Judd and me, you had to hustle your a.r.s.e to 'save' us, which you couldn't really do without G.o.dd.a.m.n kidnapping me and ending my career.”

Bosa glowered at her.

Judd interrupted. ”She's got a point. She's a beginner, but she's a good one.”

Bosa raised his eyebrows, considering her.

She glared at him. Her blue eyes were silvery with outrage.

Bosa pursed his lips, looking irritated. Then he made a noise in his throat that sounded to Judd like the beginning of a chuckle. ”All right, Eva's in,” he decided. ”Now, about Krot ... here are photos my surveillance woman took of him and the girlfriend.” He pa.s.sed copies to them.

Leaning together, Eva and Judd studied the small blond woman and the tall, black-haired man. There were individual shots and one of them together.

”Nothing here to show how deadly he supposedly is,” Judd said.

”Right,” Bosa agreed. ”He's registered in the hotel under the name Pyotr Azarov. She's Francesca Fabiano, but after a while he started calling her Katia. They both speak Russian. He seems to be genuinely fond of her, but you can't trust it. His specialty is unusual-he has an uncanny ability to meet other people's emotional needs. He's manipulative in the extreme. It's a talent he's used time and again to position his victims so he can easily terminate them.”

49.

Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.

At precisely 7:55 A.M., Scott Bridgeman parked his car and marched into Catapult headquarters. Gloria was sitting at her desk, sifting through color-coded files and making neat stacks. At the same time, she kept glancing up, watching him walk down the hall toward her.

”Morning, boss,” she said.

”Morning, Gloria.” It paid to be nice to Gloria. She knew more than anyone what was going on in the building and often inside Langley itself. ”Send Tucker to my office.” He headed past her, toward his door.

”Can't do that, boss. Sorry.”

He stopped. She was usually cheerful, but not this morning. He studied her unsmiling face. Her reluctance was palpable.

”Why not?” he said.

She stood, straightened her tartan skirt, adjusted her red pullover sweater, and walked to his office door. Opening it, she said, ”We'd better talk privately.”

He had a moment of nervousness. Her skin looked almost gray. He headed past her. ”Are you scared, or did someone die?” It was a joke. Probably some nasty memo had come over from the seventh floor. Gloria could take things personally.

As he stood behind his desk, she closed the door and turned.

She clasped her hands in front of her. ”Tucker Andersen has been shot in the head. He's in the trauma center at Merrittville Hospital up in Maryland. His wife, Karen, is there. I sent a two-man Catapult team to bird dog Tucker. The hospital's done an MRI. Other tests, too. The last time I talked to Karen, the doctors were performing emergency surgery on him. He'd begun to hemorrhage inside his skull, so they needed to reduce the pressure on his brain. I'm hoping for a call soon about how the operation went. I haven't told anyone here yet.”

”Jesus.” He sat in his executive chair. ”Christ.”

”We don't know whether he'll survive. They're hoping for the best.”

His voice hardened. ”The last I heard, Tucker and Judd Ryder were on their way to Martin Chapman's place.”

Her eyebrows shot up. ”You knew about that?”

He ignored the question. ”Is that where he was shot? I want all the details. Everything.”

She sat, folded her hands in her lap, and related the story.

He listened with growing outrage. Among the dead were Martin Chapman and the Eichel brothers. Eva Blake was involved, as was the Carnivore. Blake, Ryder, and the Carnivore had flown off somewhere, leaving a mess of dead bodies.

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