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

“Looks fairly legit…give you $300 for it.”

Cal’s mouth unhinged. “You’re shitting me, right? That’s worth a few thousand even in a place like this.”

The man shoved the watch back at Shepard. “Did you see the sign on the front door? It says Sal’s Pawn Shop, not fucking Tiffany’s of Paris.”

He knew the man realized what was sitting before him, but Cal expected to get more than what was being offered. Still, he needed the cash to stay off the grid, and this was all he had to bargain with. He also knew the owner was probably going to be closing for the month once he figured out how to sell of the pricey watch.

Sorry, Stephen.

“Well, I’ll take it to another place then. I was looking for at least $750. It was my old man’s, and I need the money to pay off a debt fast.”

The man frowned, palming the watch again and running his chubby fingers along the edges then turning it over. “It’s got some bullshit written on the back, but I can go as high as $600.”

Shepard glanced down at the glass display case, eyeing several items. “Tell you what, throw in this pair of binoculars, the two pre-paid cellphones and the lockpicking set and it’s yours for $500.”

The man put the watch in his pocket then removed a steel case from under the cabinet. He thumbed through a stack of bills, pulling out an assortment of 20s, 50s, and 100s and sliding the correct amount under the Lexan barrier, then he squatted down, opening the display case and removing the requested items.

The owner grinned. “Good doing business with you, man. Bring your friends back next time.”

Cal frowned as an empty feeling washed through him. He paused at the entrance, examining the security system and hardened window frames that were covered with rebar on the outside.

He waved at the man on his way out.

“I’ll be back someday."

In the morning, he waited until the communal kitchen at the hostel emptied out then grabbed his daypack and headed downstairs. He grabbed one of the pre-made breakfast burritos from the freezer and heated it in the microwave then tossed a five-dollar bill in the slot of the tip jar bolted to the counter.

He headed to the adjacent internet room and sat down, enjoying the egg, bacon and potato burrito while pulling up Google. He hung his hat over the camera on the computer then typed in the listing for Arlington Craigslist. Cal paused before going any further, wondering if Vogel would have followed through at this point, given recent events that had unfolded.

She must be asking the same questions as everyone else at the agency and even amongst my old team: whether I’m the rat-bastard traitor I’m being painted as in the media.

Whoever set me up like that had to have advanced hacking skills on par with our best analysts. Was it someone at the agency or a rogue freelancer from the dark web hired for a one-time job? But who was pulling their strings? He sighed. Who the fuck is pulling any of the strings behind this past week?

He just hoped Vogel’s faith in him hadn’t been shattered. Will she use this opportunity now to lure me in? She may be under pressure to do so.

He had known her a long time. When his very life and the lives of his team had hung by a thread, she had been there, the guiding voice on the other end, pointing them towards the proverbial light. He had little to lose, but he couldn’t afford to lose his faith in her. She was one of the few people left on this side of the globe that he knew still believed in him.

She has to.

He clicked on the heading for pets and scrolled down the list until he came to a posting for a white rabbit. He and Vogel had previously used this system based upon Alice in Wonderland, which she suggested after reading the book to her niece the night before their first use of the dead-drop system they were practicing. They had since used the arrangement countless times when relaying information during urban evasion exercises.

He clicked on the posting, seeing a plump rabbit then reading the description. He jotted down the weight and age of the animal, which corresponded with a physical address, then he took the first letter of each word in the carefully written description, using that to form the street name. The first four digits of the fake phone number was the meeting time, and the last five digits was the zip-code. The final sentence indicated the bunny was available for adoption on Tuesday. It was old-school—simple but effective.

Shepard closed out the page, entering the address into the map app on the computer then scrutinizing the location.

Good, a small park near the woods. Plenty of escape routes and vantage points. Though he knew that could work to his disadvantage as well if an FBI tac-team was fanned out in the area.

Trust Vogel. She’ll come through.

When he was done, he went into the menu and deleted the search history. Shepard knew he had less than three hours to get to the location. It was only eighteen or so miles away, but dodging street surveillance cameras and beat-cops on the lookout for the guy whose face was flashing on every news station and media outlet in the country was going to double his travel time.

Shepard finished the last few bites of his burrito then stood up, glancing over the tattered loaner books on the shelf above the computer. His eyes settled on a well-worn edition of Greek Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes.

He pulled it down, flipping through the pages as a flood of memories from a high-school honors class in the subject drifted over him. He paused on the chapter on Perseus, his eyes briefly flitting over the passages about Andromeda. His head shot up