Last Chance to Die by Noah Boyd (large screen ebook reader .txt) 📗

“No.” She took it out of her briefcase. “But I was a little surprised you trusted me with it.”

“It wasn’t me trusting you that was the problem—it was me trusting me if I held on to it.”

She laughed cynically. “Oh, honesty. Is that your latest tactic to deceive me?”

“I figured if anything would keep you off balance, it would be telling the truth. Apparently that’s not going to work either.”

She set the disc in the DVD player. On the monitor screen, they recognized the meeting room at the Denton safe house. It was followed by a couple of seconds of static and then by someone holding a hand-printed sign in front of the camera. On it were written the date, the time, and the name Charles Dennis Pollock. “That should eliminate any guesswork about who’s starring in this little production.”

Another few seconds of static were followed by two men sitting in the room. Pollock, recognizable from his security-background photo, was unknowingly facing the camera. He opened a briefcase that was on the floor next to him and handed a sheaf of papers to the other man. In turn, the man, who carefully never let any of his face be exposed, handed Pollock three bundles of bills and then in heavily accented English demanded, more than requested, that it be counted. While Pollock obliged, the handler deliberately held up the documents he had received and slowly paged through them so they could be captured on video. Several had CLASSIFIED stamped across them. Pollock then placed the money in his briefcase. A brief discussion ensued about what other material Pollock could provide. The screen again went to static. Vail fast-forwarded it until the end. There was nothing else on it.

“That’s it? What about the golden thread or whatever you call it?”

“The golden cord,” Vail said. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe Calculus was just screwing with us and wrote ‘Ariadne’ on the envelope to frustrate us so we’d be willing to pay more.”

“That’s a possibility. Spies do love mind games. Maybe Pollock somehow has the answer to whoever’s next. There’s only one way to find out.”

“You want to arrest him?”

“That does seem to be the next logical step now that we have irrefutable evidence that he’s a spy.”

“Then I’ve got to let Bill Langston know.”

“Come on, Kate. You know that finding the next name is going to be tough enough without going through the system.”

“Even you can’t arrest someone for espionage without somebody somewhere authorizing it. There’s no other way but the system. Finding out who Pollock is and that he’s a spy has brought us back into the aboveground world of rules and—God forbid—the law.”

It was moments like this that reminded Vail he’d been correct in choosing a life in which he answered to no one. And since Kate had told him that a relationship with her was no longer possible—everything else being equal—he would have gone off on his own and done whatever he needed to do to resolve the situation with this man who had committed treason. But the only reason, or at least the deciding one, he’d taken this assignment was to help Kate regain her reputation. “How about if we just interview Pollock? If he doesn’t cooperate, I’ll call Langston for authorization. But first I want a chance to find out if he has the key to the next name before he disappears into a bureaucratic maze that in all likelihood will shut this down. With Calculus gone, it looks like he’s our only shot.”

“What are you going to do if he does cooperate, leave him out there?”

“If he’s cooperative, we’ll ask him to take a ride and hand-deliver him to Langston so he can take all the bows. That’ll keep him happy, and hopefully we’ll have the next clue.”

“So either way, by the end of the day Langston will be notified.”

“If that’s what you want, absolutely.”

“I really hate it when you start a promise with ‘if.’ ” She studied his face briefly for signs of deception. As usual there were none. “Okay, but I’m driving. That way I can abandon you at the first sign of trouble.”

Vail laughed. “That off-ramp was three or four exits ago.”

7

Kate found a parking space near the main entrance of Alliant Industries in Calverton, Virginia, Pollock’s employer. Vail opened the folder containing the information they’d printed from Pollock’s security investigation and dialed the work number, holding the phone so Kate could hear. “Charles Pollock, please.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not in today.”

Vail looked at Kate apprehensively. “This is Hank Bass, I’m a friend of his. Could you tell him I called?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Wait a minute, I’ve got his home number. Will I be able to reach him there?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bass, I’m not sure.”

“Don’t bother with the message. I’ll track him down.” Vail thanked her and hung up.

“That can’t be good. It sounds like he didn’t call in. Maybe we should get some help and put on a full-court press.”

“Normally I’d say that made sense, but don’t forget, if we’re right about Calculus giving everyone up, the Russians could be moving Pollock out of here right now. Proper channels would slow us down and ensure his getting away. Let’s try his house. Maybe he’s just taking a day off.”

Kate stared past him for a few seconds. “God help me, I think I may need some sort of therapy, because that actually makes sense to me.”

Charles Pollock’s house was surprisingly large but in a state of advanced disrepair. It was a half-timbered Tudor and in need of a fresh coat of paint. A front gutter hung by one end, angling across the first-floor windows. The second-floor stucco had some deep cracks in it and was chipping off. Weeds were over a foot high and frozen upright in the lawn. As the two agents pulled in to the driveway, there was a stillness that made Vail wary.

He got to the door first and unbuttoned his topcoat, hitting the thumb release on his holster.