End of Days (Pike Logan #16)(73)

Shoshana turned to her and said, “You won’t do that, because I wouldn’t do that. You and I are the same. We saved your life, and you will protect ours.”

Lia stood firm, but her stern visage began to falter.

Shoshana continued. “This man has killed more than streetwalkers. He’s murdered friends of mine. I understand your quest for justice, and I promise he will get it. I’m going to rip him apart. Do you understand?”

Lia touched her throat, still feeling the collar, seeing the absolute conviction in Shoshana’s eyes. She paused, then said, “I guess justice is justice. But at least let me know, even if it’s for nothing more than closing this case.”

I opened the door and said, “You’ll know, I promise. I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to come back to you to get him.”

“Why?”

“Because you own the monopoly of violence in this country, and I intend to leverage it.”





Chapter 48




Garrett held his hand over the mouth of the young man, whispering at him to remain quiet. Wearing a T-shirt and boxers, he was college-age and had been reading a book and drinking beer when Garrett had entered through the window. Garrett put his hand to the kid’s forehead and the blood from his wound dripped onto the student’s face, causing him to moan. He tightened his hands, and the student became rigid, staring at him but no longer fighting.

Moments earlier in Lia’s flat, he’d heard the small tick from the front door and instantly knew someone was outside. His primordial instinct, gleaned from years of conducting raids against terrorist safe houses, was the only thing that had saved his life. And his mission.

He’d thought he’d hear a knock next, but instead they’d explosively breached the door, sending the lock cylinder into his hand and knocking the detonator loose.

He’d raced to the back bedroom, threw open the window, and exited onto the fire escape. He’d glanced below and saw a man coming up the alley, and knew it was rear security.

He’d gone down one flight, then ripped open a window, spilling into the first apartment he could, finding the young man reading a book in his bed. Before he could react, Garrett was on him.

He said, “Shush. No noise.”

The student nodded his head.

He waited, listening for someone coming up the fire escape. After a minute, he believed the man hadn’t seen him, or was at least waiting on him to continue down the stairs.

He sat up, releasing the student. The student said, “What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just want to get away from here. Don’t do anything crazy, and you’ll be fine.”

The student nodded, and he pulled out his phone. Garrett turned to him and said, “What’s your Wi-Fi network?”

He told him, and Garrett connected, pulling up the Zello app. He called the Turtle channel and heard Raph answer. He glanced at the man, and then began speaking Croatian, saying, “I need some help. I need a car to come get me.”

Raph said, “Where have you been? We did the hit today, and I’ve been trying to contact you for hours.”

Hit? And the mission slammed home. Garrett realized his fixation on the inspector had caused him to lose focus on what the others were doing. On his orders.

“How did that go? Are they dead?”

“No. I’m sorry, sir, they escaped. We missed them.”

“You missed them? How?”

“I don’t know. We placed the mine and they bailed out of the car like they knew what was about to happen. I mean they reacted like we would have. Like Special Forces. No hesitation or anything. They didn’t act like civilians.”

I knew those fucks weren’t State Department.

He said, “So they’re on the loose, right now?”

“No. There was an enormous police response, and they were taken into custody. They’re out of play for a few days. Even better, for some reason, the U.S. is blaming Keta’ib Hezbollah for the attack, as if they claimed credit. At least that worked out.”

Garrett ran that through his mind, then said, “Who claimed credit?”

“Nobody. The U.S. State Department put out a statement.”

Garrett thought, Something else is going on here. He said, “You’re on the way to the airport now?”

“Yes. Our flight leaves in four hours. Now, what’s happening with you? What’s wrong?”

“Too much to tell you right now. I’m in Trastevere, and I can’t get to my car. It might be under surveillance. Can you come get me?”

“Trouble how? What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain! Just trust me.”

“Sir, we’re on the way to the airport. We can’t come get you. We’re in an Uber. We’re on the way to the mission.”

“And Michelangelo? What’s he doing?”

Garrett heard the exasperation leaking through the phone, Raphael having no idea of the predicament he was in.

Raph said, “I don’t know. He’s supposed to fly with you tomorrow. He’s probably getting drunk right now before heading to Israel. You know how he is. We did the hit today and then packed up, taking the first flight out that we could find. We didn’t want to hang around after the attack.”