Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“I don’t believe that would be an easy task,” he says, disregarding my concern, at least partially. “And you have to have a team on the ground doing interviews in New York and Washington. At least use Homeland agents to aid in that effort. We can bring your team here.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I knew Murphy. He died in New York City, not here. I have an advantage when it comes to solving his murder. I’m walking into the latest one completely cold.” My cellphone buzzes with back-to-back text messages, and I snatch it from my jacket pocket and read my incoming feed. Turns out Director Rodriguez is Marie Rodriguez. She was married with two adult children, an ex-Army officer, and later a part of the DOD team, which she eventually took over. Among her many accolades, she was the first female and Latina in her role.
This knowledge collectively translates to a few revelations on my part.
We rule out one basic motive for these murders. The killer isn’t targeting powerful men in government roles. The killer might be targeting powerful people in government roles, but the question becomes why. It could simply be for sport. An assassin who wants to prove his or her worth and feels this shows skill, but it feels personal to me, which could mean anger at the government, or anger at the individuals that were murdered.
“Agent, are you still with me?”
I glance up at Ellis again. “Who did Murphy and Rodriguez piss off, and did you piss them off, too?”
“We could piss a lot of people off just by existing.”
“Whoever this is, is rich enough to hire an assassin.”
“I could name the leaders of several foreign countries that could be behind this.”
“Has the CIA offered suspects?”
“There are always threats from abroad, but right now, none that feel credible and related. They’re still working. But equally as frustrating, Homeland has nothing better to offer. There are no indications it’s terrorism. I need you to assume it’s a domestic crime, work it like you did the Umbrella Man case.”
Roger, the Umbrella Man, was an insider, a member of law enforcement, and an expert at forensics and profiling. His ability to avoid detection was off the charts. Some would say that caseload was still a simpler investigation than these two murders, just with the sheer number of suspects in today’s hate environment—hate for each other and hate for our government.
But I don’t think this is about an average American being angry at our government or an assassin trying to prove himself. Murphy was in New York to try to stop my father. I also thought he played both sides of the fence and was spying on us and the Society. But the only way I see that relating to this is if Marie Rodriguez had crossed the Society as well, and they’re cleaning house.
Ellis’ cell rings and he accepts the call.
I text Tic Tac: See if Marie connects to the Society or my father.
Already on it, he replies. And so far, nothing. I think this is related but I also can’t find a connection. DOD and FBI aren’t closely aligned in missions.
But the CIA is funded by the DOD, I think, and apparently Murphy used to be CIA.
Ellis ends his call. “I need Murphy’s name and records from before he became FBI and Murphy.”
“You don’t have clearance for that information and that was years ago.”
“Do you want to die, Ellis? If not, I need to stop flying blind and see the entire picture.”
His expression tightens. “I’ll work on clearance.”
“How long does that take?”
“A week, maybe two.”
“You could be dead by then,” I say, holding nothing back.
“I could go to jail and risk starting a war with Russia if I tell you. They believe he died a long time ago.”
“Is Russia behind this?”
“My prior conclusion stands. We have no intel that suggests that to be true. And Director Rodriguez was not director of the DOD at that time. The man who was, has since retired and passed away of old age.”
“I’m going to need the names of everyone that dealt with Russia and Murphy.”
“As I said—”
“You’re more afraid of jail than death. I don’t find that answer honest or transparent.”
The vehicle pulls up in front of a mansion of a house and halts, and the interesting part to me about our stop is there are no emergency vehicles or yellow tape, no reporters, and no sign this is a crime scene at all. And since I trust none of these people, my hand settles on my weapon where it rests under my jacket. “Where the hell are we?”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ellis draws on me and so I draw on him, each of us one finger pull from death.
“What is this, Agent?” he demands. “What are you doing?”
“You drew on me,” I say, my heart barely skipping a beat. I’m calm and cool. I’m facing forward. I have a direct shot at him and the driver, but any fun that would be is ruined by the look in Ellis’ eyes. He doesn’t want to shoot me. “After taking me to a strange house, where I could become the next victim.”