The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) by James Best (free ebook reader for ipad .TXT) 📗

the Army, or the FBI. Evarts reached behind him and put his hand on the butt of his gun. The man noticed the movement and made a dismissive gesture with his fingers meant to reassure. Evarts kept his hand where it was.

As he approached, he didn’t offer his hand, “My name is John. Your real names are Greg Evarts and Patricia Baldwin. We need to talk.”

“No,” Evarts said. “I don’t talk to people who only offer a first name. Please hold still a moment.”

Evarts moved his hand away from his gun to pull out his cell phone. John immediately turned his back on them and started walking away. Camera shy. Evarts replaced his phone and pulled out his gun.

“Halt or I’ll shoot.”

“Like hell you will.” John kept walking.

Evarts was tempted to put a round into the ground to the side of him but instead went into a full run and tackled John from behind. He purposely hit him hard and drove him into the grassy ground. He had no cuffs, so he sat on his buttocks and twisted John’s arm behind him until he screeched in pain. With his other hand he patted him down. He found a small caliber auto tucked into the small of his back.

Evarts released the safety and pressed it into his leg.

“What’s your last name, John.”

In a pained voice, he moaned, “You won’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Smith.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Hold very still.” Evarts removed John’s wallet and flipped it open. “What do you know, John Smith. Clever alias.”

“No one would pick that as an alias. It’s my real name. Now, get off.”

“Who are you with?”

“You tell me,” Smith responded.

“I’m going to guess … let me see … yeah, I’ll go with the Templars.”

“You’d be right. Please, can I get up now?”

Evarts released his arm and let him up. When he stood, he saw Baldwin had been out of John’s line of sight with her gun pointed at his head. Nice back up, he thought.

Smith brushed himself off excessively. Then he muttered under his breath, “Fuck you.”

“This is not a day to pull that kind of crap on us,” Evarts said in answer. “Why did you approach us?”

“To warn you. To do you a favor. Despite you screwing up my operation at the conference center. Your interference cost the lives of two of my men and got others arrested. So, yeah, fuck you.”

“That’s rich,” Baldwin said, having lowered her gun. “We interfered with your operation? If you hadn’t chased our targets, that gunfight would never have happened. We would’ve rounded up the bunch of them without any fuss. I’m afraid you got your men killed, not us.”

“You delude yourself,” Smith smirked. “You waltzed in today for the first time. We’ve had an eye on that Ikhwan cell since they arrived in the country. What did you think you would do once you ‘rounded them up?’ They never would’ve talked.”

“They’ve already talked,” Evarts interjected. “No thanks to your clumsy interference, we have the cell’s two remaining members, and we took possession of the devices they were going to ignite today.”

“Bullshit!” Smith exclaimed. “These animals are fanatics. They’d go to their grave without talking.”

“You’re wrong, but I don’t care if you accept it or not. You’ll fold just as quickly.” Evarts widened his stance slightly. “You’re under arrest.”

Smith chuckled. “Chief, you’re out of your jurisdiction, besides, is this any way to treat a friend?”

“I only have your word for that, and I have zero reason to trust you. Washington is a federal district and I’m empowered with arrest authority due to my position on a joint task force. You’re under arrest for violating four district laws dealing with the concealed carry of a lethal weapon.”

“More bullshit. You’re not an official member of any task force and I’m licensed to carry that gun. Look in my wallet.” As Evarts checked his wallet for a concealed carry permit, Smith added, “And lady, for your information, this was our operation. You’re just a teacher. Stick with what you know. You can’t playact spy catcher with these people. You’re a fool if you think that little trick would’ve worked. We had a foolproof plan and you ruined it.”

Evarts grabbed Smith’s wrist and twisted it savagely. He went to his knees and screamed loudly enough to draw the attention of the military police still guarding the ER entrance. Baldwin waved them off.

“Treat my wife with respect or I’ll break your wrist next time.”

As Smith stood and rubbed his wrist, Evarts examined him. Evarts could afford expensive suits tailored to fit properly, so he recognized expensive clothing. Smith’s grass stained suit was superb. His wallet Prada and his credit cards platinum. Even the gun was expensive; a Rohrbaugh Stealth Elite. Quite obviously the Templar rule no longer required a vow of poverty. Lastly, a concealed carry permit in D.C. required political connections. Plus, he acted entitled. Who was this guy?

“Who are you?” Evarts asked.

“I thought we already settled that.”

“Not your name. Who are you? What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an attorney. Here in D.C.”

“What did you need to warn us about?”

“The bounty on your heads. It’s still active. If I know who you are, so does the Ikhwan. Listen, just because you caught a minor Ikhwan cell doesn’t mean you’re rid of the target on your back. They still want your scalp, but the job’s no longer being farmed out. The Ikhwan has lost confidence in the mob. Now, the execution will be done strictly inhouse. Whatever’s going on this weekend, when it’s over, the Ikhwan teams in the U.S. will be free to collect that prize.”

Evarts ignored that and asked his next question. “Why did you follow the ambulance?”

“I wanted to see where you took them. To the FBI, CIA, or some other agency.” He looked up at the hospital. “I’m guessing the Army’s retaining custody.”

“Do you have surveillance on the other Ikhwan cells in D.C.”

“Hell, that’s why I’m upset. We haven’t gotten a handle