Search and Destroy by JT Sawyer (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

“Relax, Ian,” said the man as he turned up the volume on the device, which emanated the sound of croaking frogs. “Just a little background noise for safety’s sake in case there are other ears in the vicinity.”

Landis sat down at the opposite end of the picnic table from the man, who looked like he had just come from a peaceful stroll.

“I’ll be glad when all this cloak-and-dagger bullshit is over.”

“So you can go back to your normal life, picking up prostitutes down on Fifth?”

Landis’ eyes widened. “The fuck…are you following me now?”

“Your ineptitude at taking care of things with this operation has made some of us think that you are losing your edge.”

“Who said that? Roth? I’ve served him for years. Must be that smug prick Hunley with his….”

The man held up his beefy hand. “I’m not your therapist or your priest. I don’t give a shit about yesterday, but I do care about tomorrow, so see to it that this mop-up operation goes smoothly.”

He removed a flash drive from his pocket, handing it to Landis. “This is the dossier on Shepard for your pal on the dark web. She should be able to put together a nice media package to send off to the Times, Post or whatever. I’ve included several emails of reporters there who have covered unsubstantiated stories before…well, partially unsubstantiated, which is what most of journalism is these days.”

Landis palmed the flash drive, stroking its side with his trembling thumb as if it was a treasured artifact. “So, you know this guy Shepard…is he really the badass you said he is when we last spoke?”

“The baddest—eats baby demons for breakfast.” The man grinned, shaking his head. “He’s a man, Ian. He bleeds like the rest of us, and soon he’ll be tossed in prison for murder if he doesn’t end up getting shot to hell in a firefight with whichever law-enforcement agency is unfortunate enough to cross trails with him.”

The man picked up the tape recorder, leaving it running, the monotonous sound of frogs grating on Landis’ already shredded nerves. “After this, we’re done here, and I’m finally back on a plane to Texas for a while.”

“Adios, hombre,” the man said, pausing a foot from Landis and standing sideways to him. “Don’t release the story on Shepard until after tonight. I still have to tie off the loose end with Burke’s bodyguard, since he’s the one who disabled the security cams at the house so Montoya could do his thing.”

“I thought Sinclair is still at the hospital?”

“Yep, sometimes those head injuries can really take a turn for the worst.”

14

“Geez, this place looks like it was hit with a Hellfire missile,” said Tremblay as he and Carter walked up the driveway towards Burke’s former estate, which was little more than a framework of rubble and charred stumps surrounded by glittering shards of glass on the ground in every direction. The only thing left standing was a small barn in the distance and a Japanese-style teahouse down by the creek at the south end of the property.

Carter walked past the FBI forensics team, who were standing beside their mobile command post, processing personal items on a series of tables spread under a large shade canopy.

“Funny how you guys always show up just as lunch arrives,” said James Corelli, the team leader, as he pointed to the two coolers near the tailgate of the van. “Help yourself, just don’t eat all the cookies.”

“Pass, but I will take a coffee,” Carter said, grabbing a Styrofoam cup and pouring herself some of the brew from a carafe on the table. As she sipped the tepid fluid, her eyes drifted over the formerly opulent grounds then up to the remains of the estate.

“Wonder how many more palaces like this the guy had around the world,” she said.

“Three more,” said Corelli. “In California, Belize and Spain.” The man frowned, shrugging his shoulders. “What can I say? I’ve been a follower of his for a long time. Burke’s one of the reasons I got into science in the first place. His solar energy projects in Latin America back in the nineties was like the stuff of sci-fi for a twelve-year-old kid.”

“I always knew you were a geek, but that’s some serious nerd shit, Corelli,” said Tremblay, crunching down on a cookie.

“Yeah, you need to get a life like Tremblay here, who has the release of the new Halo game counting down on his iPhone’s timer.” Carter stepped closer, looking at the evidence bags. “So, anything of significance so far?”

Corelli thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “The federal arson investigator just left. Said that the blast sure as hell wasn’t from a gas leak. Found evidence of Symtex and fragments of a timer in what’s left of the kitchen. That combined with the gas being turned on was what caused the mushroom cloud.”

“Symtex,” whispered Carter. “Last case we worked on that involved that type of explosive was with the Serbian hit in Queens when that dope factory blew up.”

“Last couple of cases along the East Coast were Serbians, actually,” said Tremblay. “Remember, our field office in south Boston investigated a similar explosion last year.”

“Yeah, but the Colombians and MS-13 gangs use that stuff too.” Carter set down the partially empty coffee cup. “We’ll have to talk with the gang task force guys when we get back and see which faction has been accepting hits in these parts.”

“You really think they’d leave such an obvious trail?” said Corelli. “And why take out Burke and his people?”

“Don’t know yet, but we still need to do the legwork,” she said, looking at Corelli. “So, nerd…Burke must have acquired a lot of enemies over the years given all he was into. Any ideas?”

“Hell, he undertook philanthropic ventures in so many countries during his career and pissed off so many government leaders in the process that it could be any number of individuals or groups, but I just don’t see them going to this extreme.”

“But most of