Blood Line (A Tom Rollins Thriller Book 1) by Paul Heatley (book recommendations based on other books .txt) 📗

“This doesn’t look good for any of us. We’ve got to tidy it up.”

Ben leaves the office. Outside, other agents pass him in the halls, nod greetings. Ben returns them. He doesn’t go straight back to his office. He has somewhere else he needs to go.

9

Ben gets his laptop, takes it to Gerry Davies. Gerry is their senior computer analyst. He’s in his early thirties, has worked with computers all his life. There’s nothing about them he doesn’t know. He’s in his office, sitting behind his desk and tapping away. He wears a creased shirt, the collar rumpled. There are earphones pumping music into his ears, and he doesn’t look up when Ben enters, doesn’t look up until he reaches the desk, puts the laptop down on it.

Gerry looks at the laptop first, then up at Ben. He pulls out the earphones. Ben can hear the music blasting. It’s a wonder Gerry hasn’t gone deaf.

“Got it a little loud, don’t you?” he says.

Gerry grins. “I like it loud,” he says.

“What’re you listening to?” Ben asks, as if he’ll have any idea what it is. He’s too busy to keep up with music.

“Ministry,” Gerry says. “You a fan?”

Ben is surprised to find he has heard of them. “I’m unfamiliar with their music.”

Gerry taps something on his keyboard, and the earphones fall silent. “But you didn’t come here to discuss industrial metal, did you?” He reaches out for the laptop. Ben hands it over. “What seems to be the problem with this?”

Ben doesn’t answer right away. He goes back to the door, locks it. Gerry watches him, confused. Ben returns to the desk, but doesn’t take a seat. “What I’m going to tell you, what I’m about to ask of you, it doesn’t leave this room.”

Gerry looks at him, says nothing.

“You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“You know about the recent massacre of our undercovers.” Ben takes a seat. He doesn’t phrase it as a question. Of course Gerry is aware of it. Everyone is.

“Course I know about it,” Gerry says. “Who do you think they’ve got trying to find the source of the leak? And then who do you think’s gotta plug that leak?”

“Have you found anything?”

“Not yet, but I will. It’s just a matter of time and patience.” Gerry looks pleased with himself, the look of a man who knows he’s never failed his duties yet, and is confident in his abilities.

“There might be more than one leak to plug.”

Gerry cocks his head; his expression falters. “How do you mean?”

Ben taps his laptop. “They took information from this. Information only I had.”

Gerry doesn’t understand. He leans across the desk, speaks in a low conspiratorial way. “How are you so sure?”

“Because they were details that were only on my laptop. No one else had them; no one else knew about them.”

“Are you talking about off-the-books stuff?”

Ben thinks about Anthony. About Alejandra. He never met her, but he’s seen her picture since. Can’t get her face out of his mind. “Yes. I had an undercover in one of the cells. There was no record of him anywhere else, no correspondence of him anywhere, except for on this laptop.”

Gerry looks at it like it’s a bomb. “Shit,” he says. “Why wasn’t he official?”

“No time. I got some intel; I needed to move fast. An opportunity presented itself, and I took full advantage of it.”

Gerry looks at him, raises his eyebrows.

“It’s not by the book, but sometimes when we’re dealing with these kinds of people, we have to bend the rules a little.”

“That’s a big bend.”

“And I have to live with the consequences.”

“Makes me wonder how many other unofficial undercovers may have been killed that night,” Gerry says.

“That’s crossed my mind too.”

“No one else has brought me their laptop.”

“Maybe they’re too afraid, and for the same reason I’m about to say this to you – this is between us. You and I, and no one else. Is that clear?”

Gerry nods.

“Someone hacked my laptop, and they took information pertaining to all of my undercovers, but the one you’re looking at is Anthony Rollins. He was the unofficial.”

“They kill him?”

“They tried.”

Gerry blinks. “He’s still alive?”

“Last I heard. But he lost things much more precious than his life.”

Gerry frowns, doesn’t understand.

Ben isn’t going to explain it to him. “Are you clear what I need you to do?”

“Yes,” Gerry says. “I’ll do everything I can, but I make no promises.” He says this, covering his back, but Ben hears that same earlier confidence of a man knowing he can do this.

“I trust you.” Ben unlocks the office door, leaves.

Inside, there is a storm raging. It tightens his chest, flips his stomach, makes him feel queasy. He bites down on the inside of his cheek again, tastes the familiar coppery tang of blood.

“Hey, Ben.”

He looks up. Agent Carly Hogan is coming down the hall toward him. She’s smiling. Ben forces one back. “Hello.”

“I heard you got stuck with the Night of the Long Knives Part Two investigation.”

Ben winces. “I don’t think Jake would appreciate it being referred to as such.”

“Well, Jake ain’t here.” She winks. She wears a black pantsuit; her blonde hair is tied back, clipped tight at the back of her head. It’s a plain uniform, but she pulls it off well. She pulls everything off well – her uniform, a towel, his oversized shirts when she stays over, nothing at all. “How’s it going so far?”

“I just got started.”

“So nothing at the minute.”

He doesn’t tell her about the laptop. He won’t talk about it with anyone but Gerry. “Nothing at all.”

Carly looks at her watch. “I’m on my way to lunch,” she says. “You wanna join? You can bounce ideas off me.”

“That sounds good.”

“Then walk with me.” She begins striding off on her long legs. Ben keeps pace. “Don’t stand too close,” she says. “I might feel the urge to reach out and pinch your butt, and we don’t want anyone getting jealous now, do we?”

Despite himself, Ben can’t help but laugh.

10

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