Last Chance to Die, Noah Boyd [most read book in the world TXT] 📗

a little, stopping here and there for a minute or two. Probably to look less conspicuous.”

“But the bridge, that’s where you figure he left the package.”

“That’d be my guess.”

“Can I call Langston now?”

“Okay, but tell him not to send anyone to the dead drop. We have to assume if Calculus told the Russians everything, they could be watching it. If they spot our people, there’s probably a good chance that Dellasanti will be killed.”

Kate asked, “If the Russians do have the Calculus list, why aren’t they just taking all of them out instead of waiting to see if we’re going to arrest them?”

“They’re probably still productive sources, and good ones are not easy to come by. Also, should it ever surface in the future that the Russians are killing their moles, recruiting new ones would be impossible.”

“I’d better quit putting off calling Langston. Even though this should be good news, that we’ve found another one, I’ve got a feeling he isn’t going to like it. We’re figuring out who these people are faster than we can arrest them.”

“Actually, it only seems a little complicated at this point. Spy Number One, Charles Pollock, is dead. Spy Number Two, Yanko Petriv, with a little luck is in the process of being fully identified for arrest, and Number Three, James Dellasanti, will be caught in the act in two days in Maryland. As you reminded me earlier today, speed is what’s important here. It doesn’t matter if everyone’s happy about it, or if it’s legal enough to put in their memoirs. The Russians already have the list and apparently are willing to kill these people to keep them out of our hands. And don’t forget the ‘big fish.’ That’s the real prize we’re trying to beat them to.”

“That all sounds nice, but in case you haven’t noticed, very little of this has gone as planned. What if something happens, like Dellasanti deciding to pick up whatever’s at the drop before the sixth?”

“He’s probably been told that the money won’t be there until January sixth. And spies hate going to the dead drop—it’s when they’re most exposed. If Calculus put the documents back like he did in the bank box—and according to that tracking phone, it looks as if he did—we’ll have him along with the evidence and money all in one nice neat little package. We just have to make sure that you and I get our hands on whatever documents might be there before anyone else does. Especially if Dellasanti isn’t the ‘big fish.’ I don’t want to lose control until we figure out who that is. If Langston gets the idea in his head that he can take over, he’ll have to play by the rules, and I think if this case has proved anything, it’s that this isn’t going to get solved that way.”

“As uncomfortable as I am with deceiving him, I guess you’re right.” Kate looked at her watch. “I desperately need to catch up on my other job’s paperwork. And I’d better let Langston know about this upcoming drop by no later than tomorrow morning. We’ll need to get surveillance on it ahead of time.”

“Just make sure he’s going to let us handle that package.”

“I’ll do my best. In the meantime, if Langston has Petriv identified, we should be able to round him up tomorrow. And then, with a little luck, Dellasanti the next day,” Kate said. “This whole thing wouldn’t seem nearly as daunting if we knew how many names were left.”

“I told you before, spies love mind games. Answers are better protected if they’re surrounded by confusion.”

Kate slipped her coat on. “What are you going to do with the night off?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe have dinner with Luke.”

“By ‘dinner’ you mean work on his missing analyst.”

Vail smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it came up.”

12

Vail and Bursaw sat in the front seat of the WFO agent’s car. Between them were take-out orders of hamburgers and fries. They were in southeast D.C. watching a street corner that was busy with prostitutes flagging down cars. “Is this what passes for dinner theater in Washington?” Vail asked.

“I thought it would be nostalgic for you. You probably haven’t talked to a hooker since you were run out of Detroit.”

“For the record, I wasn’t run out—I walked. Let me see her picture again.”

Bursaw handed him the mug shot of Denise Washington. Her hair was matted, and her skin was washed out and blemished by continual drug abuse. Vail handed it back. “I could be wrong, but didn’t you bring her to the Christmas party one year in Detroit?”

“That’s right. It was the year you brought that ‘exotic dancer’ with the Adam’s apple.”

“Fool me once . . .”

Bursaw laughed. “I wish she’d show up. It’s getting to be the drive-by-shooting hour, and I’m already spending way too much time in court.”

They continued eating for the next few minutes. “Maybe we should deputize one of these girls. Put her on the payroll, and she could give you a call when the fair Denise shows up.”

“What are the chances of a hooker calling me?”

“A good-looking African-American like yourself, plus twenty dollars? Don’t sell yourself short.” Vail straightened up. “That’s her there, isn’t it?”

Bursaw took a closer look at the young woman getting out of a pickup truck. “Now, see, Vail, that’s why I wanted you here. Not because you’re any kind of agent, but because you are the world’s luckiest white man.” Pulling away from the curb, Bursaw drove for a half block before making a U-turn. He coasted back to where the young woman stood and stopped in front of her. He rolled down the window and leaned across Vail. “Denise!”

She looked at the two men who were obviously law enforcement and shook her head disgustedly. “I ain’t doing nothing,” she protested.

“We’re not here for that. Get in the backseat.”

“I didn’t do nothing.” He flipped open his credentials, and she said, “FBI? I sure as hell didn’t do nothing that bad.”

“I’m here