Hunt Them Down(34)

“Can I see her now?”

Tasis headed toward the residence, leaving Hunt to follow. “I pray to God your meeting doesn’t go well.”

“And why’s that?”

“So I can put a bullet in your thick head.”





CHAPTER THIRTY

Pompano Beach, Florida

One of his phones buzzed him awake. Cole Egan reluctantly rolled away from his wife and reached for it on the nightstand. He had a new text message: 9738184537120.

Damn it!

There was no way he was going back to sleep now. To anyone reading it—Katherine in particular—these numbers would look random. But Egan knew better. If he subtracted one from each number, he’d get a Chinese cell phone number. Protocols negotiated a little less than a decade ago stipulated he had fifteen minutes to call back. It was a simple code but an efficient one.

Egan quietly climbed out of bed. The night was pitch-black, and Katherine’s soft breath was the only sound. He closed the bedroom door behind him and went to his office to make the call. He unlocked the filing cabinet in which he kept his biometric safe. From the safe, he grabbed one of many burner phones and dialed the Chinese number.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” the voice on the other end said.

“We both know you couldn’t care less.”

“Very true. It makes me wonder why I try to make small talk with you.”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Egan said. “What can I do for you?”

“Hector will call you within the next five minutes at this number. He’ll tell you what needs to be done.”

That was unusual. Hector Mieles was a capable man and an exceptional leader. But Egan didn’t work for him. He worked for only one person. That, too, had been negotiated.

Since Egan hadn’t replied, the person at the other end decided to add an explanation. “This is a onetime deal, and I’ll double your fee.”

This was getting interesting. His normal fee was $200,000. The bonus would go a long way toward paying for his future kid’s education. If his boss was ready to pony up such a large amount of money for a single target, there was a catch. So he asked what the catch was.

“He’s a federal agent.”

That wasn’t a big deal. He had killed more than his share of DEA and ATF agents. Why the higher fee, then? As if his interlocutor had read his thoughts, the next statement offered somewhat of an explanation.

“In case you wonder why I’m offering a premium, the target is a highly trained DEA agent. He’s also a veteran, just like you, Mr. Granger.”

Mr. Granger had been his code name for the past ten years. In some circles, the name was both feared and respected. It was said Mr. Granger had never failed to kill his target and that his smile was the last thing you’d ever see.

“Five hundred thousand.”

He heard his employer take a deep breath.

“I’m told you’re expecting a child,” the voice said. “Congratulations to you and Katherine. A boy or a girl?”

Even though the words were spoken quietly, Egan took them as the threat they were meant to be. It was also a clear message: Don’t push it, or I’ll squish you.

“What are the rules of engagement?”

“Get it done, but don’t get caught. You’re precious to me. Am I clear?”

“Yes.”

Even Mr. Granger couldn’t say no to the Black Tosca. Not if he wanted his family to keep breathing.



After relaying the caller’s phone number to Hector, Valentina tossed the mobile phone into the roaring fireplace. If her cousin was the general of her army, Cole Egan—a.k.a. Mr. Granger—was her scalpel on American soil. He was meticulous and precise and had never failed to accomplish the missions she’d given him. And he was great in bed too. It had been a while since she had shared something intimate with him, but Egan wasn’t the type of lover a woman forgot easily. She felt a tad jealous toward Katherine. Then she laughed at her own silliness. Maybe Egan could fake playing family for a while, but in the end, he was just like her—a sociopath.



Egan let his mind wander while he waited for Hector’s call.

A decade ago, he had come back from Gaza shattered in mind and body. He spent ten months in a military hospital recovering from his wounds and undergoing numerous operations. His body healed, but his mind remained plagued by what the terrorists had done to him. After countless sessions with numerous army shrinks, they threw in the towel and discharged him.

Thank you for your service. Here’s the door. Good luck with the rest of your life.

He had given them everything in exchange for what? Recurring nightmares and a derisory medical pension? At first glance, it looked that way, but that was shortsighted. In fact, the army had given him much more than that. It had given him the ability to dehumanize his enemies. And to kill them. And he was pretty damn good at it.

A French private military company, impressed with his résumé, had hired him and sent him to Venezuela to train future members of the Venezuelan president’s protective detail. Not only did he love the job, but they’d paid him exponentially more than the United States military had. His new position gave him access to powerful men within the Venezuelan government. These powerful men, Egan quickly learned, were more than happy to part with large sums of money in exchange for the assassination of the antigovernment movement leaders who threatened to topple the president. It was a lucrative market, albeit a dangerous one. But Egan was a professional, and word spread around Caracas that a new, infallible assassin was in town. Soon after, he quit the PMC and started working solo, locally at first and then all over South America.