Chasing the White Lion by James Hannibal (best free e book reader .TXT) 📗

equivalent of a dying rose left on a windowsill.” He tapped away at a keyboard attachment. “Franklin left a trail of breadcrumbs—goblin tracks. I’m following them back through the servers and . . . here.” He looked up at the wall, where a video window had opened. “It’s a live feed. Heavily encrypted. Franklin? Can you hear me?”

The tech guru did not answer. Instead, Frank Brennan’s mustache and gristly double chin appeared on the screen, marred by waves of static. He adjusted a webcam to bring the field of view up to his eyes. They were grim, and they settled on Talia. “We have a problem.”

“Hello, Frank. What’s wrong?”

“You’ve gone rogue. That’s what’s wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

Tyler stood shoulder to shoulder with Talia. “She took down not one, but two major crime bosses, freed a couple hundred children, and captured the traitor Archangel’s agent.”

He’d almost made Talia blush. She elbowed him. “We did those things. All of us. Together.”

He elbowed her back. “Hush. The grown-ups are talking.” Tyler frowned at the giant head on his cabin wall. “Is that what you call going rogue, Frank?”

“Not me. Jordan. Always maneuvering. Always the chess queen. She’s opened a counterintelligence investigation into Talia, and she named you as an accomplice. Touch down at Reagan, and you’ll find a pack of orangutans from Special Activities waiting for you. I doubt you’ll touch tarmac alive.”

A groan drew Talia’s attention.

Bazin stirred.

She signaled Eddie to cut the feed. “Gotta go, Frank. Thanks for the heads-up. We’ll be in touch. Tyler has a plan.”

“But I—”

Eddie tapped a key, and the wall returned to live video of the clouds outside.

Bazin rolled his head over. “Miss Wright? Or is it Miss Inger? I forget.”

She ignored Finn’s signal to leave it be and walked to the gurney. “Then tell me a name I know you remember. Tell me the real name of Archangel.”

He gave her a weak smile. “Nice try.”

The morphine the medics had given him for the pain would not loosen his lips. Finn had suggested torture, cutting off the drip and digging into the wounds. But CIA case officers didn’t operate that way, not the good ones. Neither did Christ followers. No truth serum. No torture. Talia had what she had—her prisoner and her wits. She had a hidden camera on the IV tower, placed there by Eddie for posterity. A glance at the geek told him to hit RECORD.

“Why should I talk to you?” Bazin said. “You shot me.”

Talia smiled—an honest smile. “Yes I did.” She tried playing the law enforcement card. “We have you complicit in fraud, human trafficking, and murder. When we land, I’ll hand you over to the Bureau. Give up your Agency contact, and maybe I can work a deal.”

“When we land, I am dead man.”

“Then talk to ease your conscience.”

“No conscience. Spetsnaz beat this out of me decades ago.” He snorted. “When we land, you are dead too.”

Tyler joined her at the gurney. “Explain.”

Bazin kept his gaze on Talia, as if Tyler wasn’t there. “I heard your friend. The wheels are moving. As they moved before. You are not first. Many years ago, another CIA officer discover her activities. She stop him then. She stop you now.” He made the sign of a gun with his cuffed hand. “Bang. No problem.”

Many years ago. Could he be talking about Talia’s father? She leaned in. “How? How did she stop him back then?”

“She . . . how you say . . . turn tables. She frame him. Rogue spy.”

So, Jordan was a slave to her old methods. But Bazin wasn’t finished. “She send asset to kill him.”

Talia felt Tyler tense beside her. She knew where this was going, a place she never wanted to go again. She had told him so from the beginning.

Bazin gave her a pained grin. “This asset is reason you came to Moldova, no? She call him Lukon.”

That name—the myth. A knife to her gut. The old anger welled up inside. Talia felt Tyler’s hand on her arm, and she met his eye. She saw the same hurt. For a moment, their anger burned together. The girl whose father had been taken by murder. The man whom Archangel had conned into that bloody act. Together, without words, they gave it to God.

By goading him into naming Lukon, Talia had gained enough intel, perhaps not for the CIA, but for herself. With nothing more to say, she jabbed a needle into Bazin’s IV port. His eyes fluttered closed.

She sighed and looked to Tyler. “I told Brennan you have a plan. You do, right?”

He walked off toward the flight deck. “I always have a plan.”

CHAPTER

EIGHTY-

TWO

THE METRONOME RESTAURANT

DUPONT CIRCLE

WASHINGTON, DC

“CONTACT.” Eddie’s voice buzzed in Talia’s ear. “Subway cam has positive target ID. Point, be advised, Senator Ramirez and one personal security escort are in tow. Target is wearing a green coat and black knit cap.”

“Copy. We have eyes on the Metro exit. South side. Standing by for visual.”

Tyler bumped her shoulder with his, almost knocking her into the bricks on the east wall of the restaurant bordering the alley where they were hiding. “You look tense. Are you ready for this? It’s been a long time coming.”

“For both of us.” She gave him a thin smile. “Yes, I’m ready.”

The green coat stood out among the blur of jackets and overcoats emerging from the Metro station. Talia swallowed to banish the dryness from her throat. In her position—accused of a crime, so close to the op—running point was a rare privilege. “Red Leader, I have a visual. Stand by.”

Despite every instinct screaming for her to rush into the circle, Talia waited until Jordan’s face was unmistakable to her naked eyes. She raised two fingers pressed together, signaling Tyler, and he matched the gesture, confirming recognition.

Talia let out a breath. Here it comes. “Red Leader, Point confirms positive ID. We are a go. Move, move, move!”

Talia and Tyler rushed out of the alley, weapons up. Both carried Glock 26s with real bullets—none of Tyler’s nonlethals.

“Mary Jordan!” Talia shouted. “Freeze!”

Tyler