He started to slide out of the seat but I said, “They’re dead.” And boy, if ever I felt like I was about to be the victim in an old-timey western shootout, that was it.
“What do you mean?” he said. His hands were still on the table, but it was a short trip to that gun.
“I don’t know for sure, but the odds aren’t in their favor. When was the last time you spoke with them?”
“Two days ago. We did our regular Friday debrief call. Unless you want to walk out of here in handcuffs, you better start talking.”
I had already made up my mind that I was going to tell him the truth. That was the whole reason I made this trip. But there were many truths, and he didn’t need to know all of them.
“Two more names,” I said. “Ghost and The Persian. Do they mean anything to you?”
He shook his head. “No. They sound like something out of a comic book.”
“Oh they’re very real. And very dangerous. Ever hear of The Jackal?”
He thought for a minute. “Yeah. Professional assassin back in the ’70s, right? Didn’t they make a movie about him?”
“They did. And one day, they might make one about these two.”
“So they’re hired killers.”
“They’re the best hired killers. And one of them, I don’t know which, was paid a million dollars to take out Frank and Nadia.”
His eyes probed mine. The Colonial suddenly felt very much like a tight, dingy interrogation room. “Prove it,” he said.
“You have their numbers? Call them.”
“I don’t have their numbers. Our calls are all arranged through their section chief.”
Why are you having weekly debrief calls with two undercover FBI agents, Robert?
“Great, call him. See if he’s heard from them since Friday.”
His eyes were still probing but they lacked direction. They weren’t sure exactly what they were looking for anymore. And he didn’t like it.
Our waitress came around and asked if he needed anything. “I’m fine, thanks,” he told her without looking up. She topped off my coffee without asking and moved along to her next table.
“How do you know all this?” he asked.
“Why did Denise tell you I left?” I countered, dodging his question yet again.
He laughed. A derisive snort full of disdain. “She doesn’t know. Said you just up and left them in the middle of the night. Things had been bad at your job for a while, but they were getting better. Which is why she still can’t figure why you disappeared. I say she shouldn’t waste time worrying about the actions of a lowlife scumbag who would abandon his family for no reason.”
I took the jab. I deserved it. “Without going into detail, she’s right. Things did get bad at my job, and then yes, they did get better. Mostly because I started doing some side work for clients that weren’t very happy when I tried to stop. So my side business kept growing, well past the point where it was just paying the bills. And the more it grew, the more danger it put Denise and the kids in. I couldn’t live with that possibility, and I was in too deep to pull out, so I left.”
“Jesus, Ben, what kind of side business did you get into?”
“Let’s just say I don’t hang around with the best people. My boring desk job that dried up taught me how to network and I’ve got a lot of connections back where I come from. Lots of little birdies telling me lots of little secrets all the time. And one of them tipped me off to the hits on your pals with the FBI and the others. Six agents, all doing deep cover work throughout Europe.” I licked my lips. “Plus one more, here in the US.”
“Who?”
I stared at him.
It didn’t take him long. And when he figured it out, his first reaction was fear.
It was just a flash, quickly buried and replaced by a steely look of total control that they must teach to all rookies in the academy. But the fear was there. Out in the open like a deer before it darts into the woods once it realizes it’s been seen.
He’s thought about this. However he’s involved, someone told him that a bullseye on his back was a real possibility, and it’s kept him up at night.
“I need to know, Robert,” I said, leaning across the table. “What is your connection to all of this? In a task force full of spies and federal agents, a homicide cop from Philly doesn’t fit. Why would someone pay a million dollars to have you killed?”
“That was the price for me too?” He sounded both shocked and a little proud.
“You and two others. The MI5 agents. Except the hitter who picked up your contract got himself killed before he could get started, so you’ve got some time. Not much, because one of the other two is surely on their way to finish the job, assuming they’re not here already.”
“You mean one of the top two professional hitmen on the planet?”
“That’s right. Do you have any idea why?”
“I need to call Jeff,” he said, standing up.
“Who’s Jeff? Is he the FBI section chief?”
He looked down at me. “Why did you come here to tell me this in person? Why not just tell me over the phone?”
“If you’re in danger, then that means Denise is too. So’s Maggie. So’s Ethan.” I let that sink in. “I needed you to know I wasn’t just some asshole calling to fuck with you. Figured face-to-face made a stronger statement.”
And I needed to make sure whatever you did after I told you didn’t put my family in any more danger than they already are.
