Objekt 825 (Tracie Tanner Thrillers Book 9), Allan Leverone [books to read for 13 year olds txt] 📗

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said sheepishly. “Stupid question.”

“But it wouldn’t have mattered even if that weren’t the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“You would never turn down an opportunity to do this job.”

“You’ve got me on that one.”

“Of course I do. Now get the hell out of here. As wonderful as it is to see your new hairstyle, I have work to do.”

10

June 21, 1988

1:55 p.m.

Norfolk General Hospital

Norfolk, VA

When Stallings told her she would be impersonating a representative of the FBI director himself, her initial thought had been that it might be a bit of an overreach. Wouldn’t posing as an anonymous FBI special agent get the job done just as well?

But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Given the classified nature of the item this Carson Limington character had been charged with stealing and turning over to the Soviet Union—the fact that they’d stolen it from him after he, in turn, stole it from Marine Technix Corporation mattered little to prosecutors at the U.S. Justice Department—the personal attention of the director to the case would not seem at all unusual.

Regardless of her feelings about Stallings, she had to admit to herself—for probably the thousandth time in the past year—the man definitely knew what he was doing. Nothing else could explain his decades-long seat at the head of the Central Intelligence Agency.

Unless, of course, he actually did have naked pictures of the past half-dozen or so U.S. presidents, a possibility she could not entirely dismiss.

She’d called the Norfolk Police Department immediately upon arriving home—Marshall was gone, as he’d said he would be, a fact Tracie appreciated from a professional standpoint but detested from a personal one—and spoke to the duty officer, clearing the way for a visit by Candice Clayburgh with the hospitalized Carson Limington. The police weren’t thrilled with the notion of sharing their prisoner with the feds, but they knew how things worked when the case involved potential treason charges. They decided they would be only too happy to accommodate FBI Director Matt Steinman’s personal representative.

After arranging a two o’clock meeting with Limington—“Please ensure the officer posted at the prisoner’s hospital room door is made aware of my visit,” she’d said in her coolly professional FBI-boss-bitch voice—Tracie had taken a quick nap, then showered and dressed in one of the few business-type outfits she owned: a plain white button-down blouse over midnight blue slacks, with black flat-soled shoes. Add in her Beretta 92SB in a shoulder rig and the outfit would be complete.

At ten-thirty she hit the road, arriving in Norfolk a little more than three hours later. She grabbed a quick bite to eat and entered Norfolk Hospital at 1:55. Unwilling to wait for the elevator, Tracie took the stairs to the third floor. Limington was being held in Room 346, and after a moment’s confusion as to the direction, she walked quickly past the nurse’s station to the room with the cop posted outside.

Flashing a tight, insincere smile, she held her forged credentials up for his inspection and said, “Candice Clayburgh, FBI. I’m here for my two-o’clock interrogation of your prisoner, Carson Limington.”

The officer glanced from the photo on her ID to her face and then did a double take when he saw the side of her head.

“What the hell happened to you?” he said.

Tracie returned the ID to her breast pocket and said, “Subtlety is not your strong suit, is it?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Your…injury…caught me off guard. Please forgive me.”

She decided to take pity on him. She’d done plenty of staring at the injury in the mirror, so she knew exactly how ugly the stitches were.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a smile. “Car accident, nothing dramatic.”

“Looks pretty dramatic from here,” he said. “Anyway, about your interrogation. The minute I found out you were coming, I made sure to let Limington know. He’s nervous as hell that the FBI wants to speak to him again already.”

Tracie froze for a moment, before quickly regaining her bearings. Of course the FBI would already have interrogated Limington. The very reason it would make sense to the Norfolk cops that Steinman’s representative would want to speak with their prisoner would, of course, be the same reason the actual FBI would have done so.

Oh well, this cop didn’t seem bothered by the fact another Feeb was here, so she supposed it didn’t matter. As long as the real FBI didn’t show up in the next few minutes.

“Thanks for warming him up for me,” she said. It actually made sense to get Limington off-guard and nervous. Plus, the duty officer was being so earnest and helpful after his initial misstep she wanted to show sincere appreciation.

“Okay, Miss Clayburgh. The prisoner is weak from his surgery, and handcuffed to his hospital bed to boot, so he doesn’t pose much of a threat to you, but if he starts giving you any attitude or you need backup in any way, just raise your voice and call, I’ll be through the door in seconds.”

Tracie tamped down a smile. The day she couldn’t handle one treasonous scientist after he’d been shot in the head was the day she quit working for the CIA in shame, but again the cop was only trying to be helpful.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but I’ll let you know.”

“One more thing,” the cop said as she reached to open the door. “The medical people have been paying pretty close attention to this guy, so I can’t guarantee you won’t be interrupted. I’ll try to keep everyone out until you’re finished, but it may not be possible.”

“I understand,” she said, and followed it up with, “You’ve been very helpful, I appreciate it.” She was surprised to