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

to see me,” Steve says. “To see how I was doing, and to ask about Peter’s funeral.”

“He say anything of use?” Tom says. He doesn’t want daily check-ins. He wants Steve to only call when he has something worth sharing.

“No, not really, but I’m trying to get closer to them, like you asked. I’m trying to get onto the council.”

“You offer to take your brother’s place?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what I did.”

“They go for it?”

“Harry said they’re gonna have to discuss it first.”

Tom sucks his teeth.

“I don’t know how long that’s gonna take. From the sounds of what you were saying, you might not have that kind of time.”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“But I’m only guessing. Maybe they’ll be quick – maybe I’ll hear something back tomorrow, right?”

Tom doubts it. “Do what you can, Steve. Keep me updated.” Tom puts the phone away, continues on his rounds.

Ronald and Michael are both at home. They haven’t gone to ground. This sets Tom’s mind at ease about Harry not being at his place. They’re not hiding out from him. They’re continuing on as they were. He’s glad of this. It’ll make them easier to take out.

41

Ben has the meeting he dreads. The check-in with Jake Lofton. Where Jake asks him how the investigation is going, and Ben has to admit that, officially, he doesn’t have anything.

He can’t tell him about Tom. And as far as the FBI is concerned, Harrow isn’t even on their map concerning this case. They didn’t have anyone undercover there.

Jake leans back in his chair, tents his fingers. “That isn’t great, Ben.”

“I know,” Ben says.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll think of something.”

Jake shakes his head, looking disappointed. “I’m not so sure you will. I need results, Ben, and I need them yesterday. Right now, all you’re doing is wasting your time. Your time and our time. It doesn’t look like you’re going to find a thing. I’m going to have to take you off this, put you back to some real work.”

Ben can’t take a chance on being reassigned. There’s the potential it’ll take him out of town. He needs to be here, in Dallas, for whatever is coming. “Another week,” he says.

Jake raises an eyebrow.

“Another week to try to find the leak,” Ben says. “Just a little more time to devote to it. For what they took away from us, it’s got to be worth seven more days, right?”

“What do you think you’re going to do any differently in seven days?” Jake says.

“Like I said, I’ll think of something.”

Jake looks at him for a long time. Ben doesn’t think he’ll agree. Finally, he surprises him by nodding. “Seven days,” he says. “And seven days only.”

Out of the meeting, Ben hurries out of the building, to his car. Making sure there’s no one else around, he calls Tom. “I need something,” he says. “And I need it fast. They want to pull me off the leak. I’ve got seven days.”

“I’m doing what I came here to do,” Tom says. It sounds like there is no urgency in his voice. Ben doesn’t like that.

“Well, I need you to do it faster. I need names. I need to know who the mole is, or the hacker, or whatever the fuck they were. I need to know what the plot is, who’s planning it, and where it’s going to happen. If the Right Arm doesn’t know all of that directly, then they know who does.”

Tom doesn’t say anything.

“Are you there? Are you listening?”

“I’m here.”

“Everything leads back to Harrow,” Ben says, watching his mirrors. “The night of the purging, it’s like they were trying to cover their tracks. You understand? They were making the search area broad, pointing it toward all these potential different cells. They were trying to put us off the scent. But it’s Harrow, it’s the Right Arm. They had to go out of their way to find out about Anthony. They had to go through me. They’ve left too many clues now. The surveillance footage from the fertilizer factory where the dumb bastard didn’t cover up his tattoos, the money trail our analysts picked up on, it all goes back to Harrow, to the Right Arm.”

“You need to calm down,” Tom says.

“And you need to hurry the fuck up.”

There’s a pause; then Tom says, “I don’t work for you, Ben. You’d do well to remember that.”

Ben takes a deep breath. “All right,” he says, calming. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But our country is in danger. Hundreds, maybe thousands of lives are at risk, and I can’t help but feel you’re dismissing all of that just to go off on some half-cocked revenge mission.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Tom says. “Don’t question me. I’ve agreed to help you, but you’re right. The attack isn’t my primary concern.”

Ben is flabbergasted. “How can it not be –”

“But I’ll deal with it,” Tom says, cutting him off. “If it’s like you say, and the Right Arm is behind it, then our two issues are walking hand in hand. I’ll deal with it.”

They end the call, and Ben sits back, catching his breath. He looks in the mirror and sees a dishevelled stranger looking back. He straightens himself out, combs his hair with his fingers, slaps on a smile, and gets back to work.

42

First, Anthony is able to sit up without feeling sick. Then he’s able to stand. He can take a few steps before feeling like he needs to hurry back to the bed, his pills, warmth, and sleep.

Now, he’s had enough of the bed, of pills, of warmth, and sleep. He’s done enough resting. He gets to his feet, changes out of his rancid, sweat-drenched clothes, and puts on a fresh set that Sylvia has loaned him from his father. Anthony steps out of the house.

“You need someone to go with you?” Jeffrey says. He and Sylvia are in the front room, watching him.

“No,” Anthony says. He wants to be alone. “I’m just going