Zero at the Bone (36 page)

D relaxed. That couldn’t have gone better. He spared a brief thought to how creepy he was being, spying on Jack from across the harbor, but he thought it was forgivable under the circumstances.

His cell phone trilled at him. Text message. Probably from X. He let the binocs fall onto his chest and fished his phone out of his pocket.

all ok?

y

hits on j?

2 that i no of

leads?

no one in town yet. undr contrl.

vgood

where u?

here too

come 2 help?

if need.

mayb finly meet.

think so. hav 2 arrange.

how bout rite now?

now?

y

???

can hear ur fingers typin, dumbass.

Zero at the Bone | 163

D heard a sigh, and then… a voice. “Well, shit.” A woman’s voice. From the other side of the chimney he was sitting next to. He sat there, stunned, as footsteps circled the chimney… and then a woman with blonde hair stepped out in front of him. “That’s embarrassing.”

D just stared. “It’s you.”

She smiled back. “And it’s you.”

He stood up slowly. “I cain’t believe it.” It was dark on the roof but he could see her fairly well in the glow from the city lights and the moon. She was tall, just a little shorter than he was, and looked strong. She was wearing cargo pants and a bomber jacket with a fleece lining. Her light hair was pulled into a ponytail. “Yer… a woman!”

“Yep.” She stuck out her hand. “Megan Knox, United States Secret Service.” She looked a little overwhelmed to be standing here face-to-face with him. He knew how she felt. He shook her hand, still reeling a little. “Goddamn, D,” she said, biting her lip a little. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he said, still shaking her hand. Finally he let go and they just stood there staring.

He glanced at the chimney. “How long were you gonna sit there bein’ real quiet?”

“I don’t know. Until you left, maybe. Turned off the keystroke beeps on my Treo; didn’t think you’d hear me.”

“I got good ears.”

“Evidently.”

“C’mon. I woulda found you up here.”

“Well, you didn’t when you checked the roof, did you?”

“Where were you hiding?”

She jerked her head back toward the far corner. “Inside an intake vent.”

“Sneaky.”

“My middle name.”

D was at a loss. They just stood there like idiots for a few moments, then he chuckled. “I’m still kinda in shock here.”

“Yeah, well, this is a surprise for me too.”

“Well, come sit down.”

“Okay. We do have a lot to talk about.” She sat on a raised ledge at his side.

“So… yer a Secret Service agent, huh?”

She looked at him. “I never said I was an agent.”

“Oh,” he said, sensing her disinterest in follow-up questions.

“Who’s got the hits on Jack?”

“Shh. We can talk later. He’s gonna come outta the shower any minute now and ain’t no way I’m missin’ that.”

“Ooh,” she said, and pulled out her own binoculars.

D looked at her. “Hey!”

“What? You’d deny a hardworking girl a little eye candy?”

“This ain’t Halloween.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Means I ain’t sharin’ my candy. Gimme them glasses.”

164 | Jane Seville

D AND X (
Megan, her name’s Megan
) sat on the rooftop until the light went out in Jack’s room. D felt self-conscious watching him with her sitting right there next to him, although she was quiet and didn’t appear to be paying him any attention. He fidgeted in his chair as Jack came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, although she couldn’t see a thing without binoculars from this distance.

He lowered the heavy glasses. “All right. Guess leave now.”

“Okay.” She put her binoculars back inside her coat.

He shook his head. “You wouldn’ta been able ta see him with them puny things anyway. Where’d ya get ’em, the dollar store?”

She handed them over. “Have a look.”

D raised the compact binocs to his eyes and staggered back a step, orienting himself. They were at least an order of magnitude more powerful than his. “Damn,” he muttered. He could see
past
the hotel into the offices of the buildings beyond.

“They’re digital,” she said, taking them back.

“Pretty slick.”

“I like my toys. Come on; let’s get a coffee or something.” THEY sat in a far corner of a deserted all-night diner. The bored waitress sat at the far end of the counter reading a trashy romance novel while a radio crackled faintly at her side. She just left them the coffee pot and told them to wave or something when they needed more, or if they wanted pie.

D shook his head, turning the coffee mug (the big thick kind with caramel-colored glaze, just right) around and around in circles. “Still cain’t believe yer sittin’ here in front a me.”

“I guess it’s different for me. I’ve always known what you look like; I see you all the time.”

“Yeah.”

She was watching him. “I hope I’m not a disappointment.” He looked at her. “Why would ya be?”

“Well, maybe you were expecting some muscle-bound mercenary guy.” He snorted. “I’ve known a few a them. To a man they been dumber’n a box a sticks

’n’ useless for anythin’ but workin’ somebody over. Gimme somebody sneaky ’n’

clever.”

Zero at the Bone | 165

She crossed her arms on the tabletop. “I know what your situation is. Maybe more than you do. But you must have questions about me.”

“You sayin’ you gonna answer all a my questions?”

“Well… maybe not
all.
As many as I’m able.”

“Yer Secret Service.”

“Yep.”

“But you ain’t no agent.”

“Nope.” She sighed. “I’m one of those people that don’t exist.”

“Well, we got that in common.”

“Yeah. Let’s just say I go do the jobs that don’t get put in the annual report or itemized in the budget. Things that don’t officially happen.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Last ten years I been on anti-assassination. I pretty much roam around following up on tips and intelligence, some of which I’m given, some of which I gather myself.

You ought to know that I sometimes pose as somebody in your line of work.” He frowned. “Under what name?”

“Shelby.”

He snorted. “That was you?”

“Yep. I know, I stole that Tempe job from you.”

“No, ya didn’t. I wanted you to take it. Change a heart. Leaked the contact info and ramped back on my bid so somebody’d swoop in and steal it. Thanks for obligin’.”

“You played me!” she exclaimed. “Asshole!”

He shrugged. “Look who’s talkin’.”

She nodded, chuckling. “Anyway. The nature of my job made it easy for me to move around and, uh… look after you.”

D was silent for a moment. “You gonna tell me why? Finally?”

“You saved my life.”

“Still don’t know how.”

“That’s a conversation for a later time.”

He nodded. He’d suspected as much. “Okay. Then there’s only one thing ta talk

’bout.”

“Who’s got these two contracts on Jack?”

“First hit went to a guy called Carver. Know him?”

“Yeah, he’s a lightweight.”

“Well, I ain’t countin’ him out, but he don’t worry me as much as JJ. I figure I’ll tail him when he gets into town and persuade him to take his business elsewhere.” She nodded. “I’ll make some discreet inquiries on Carver's known aliases, see if I can find how he's arriving or where he's staying.”

“That’d be good. Then there’s JJ.”

“I’m not familiar with him.”

“Her. And I’m a lot more nervous about her than Carver.”

“Why? Is she tough?”

D shot her a wry grin. “JJ is a sixty-eight-year-old woman who’s about five-two and no more’n ninety pounds soakin’ wet.”

Meg snorted. “Seriously?”

“Yep. Nobody ever looks at her twice. I seen her a couple a times off the job and she looked like a Park Avenue mama, all high-heeled and white-haired and with them 166 | Jane Seville

sunglasses. But on the job? She curls her hair and puts on these sweatshirts with teddy bears on ’em and looks like anyone’s grandma.”

“Someone no one would ever suspect.”

“Or even remember. But damn, she gets the job done.”

“How?”

“She is the fuckin’ master a chemical assassination. Poisons, nerve agents, injections. It could be in his food, or on the car’s door handle, or in the ventilation system, or in the fuckin’ water.”

“Damn. That’s not going to be easy to protect him against.”

“You ain’t kiddin’. Best hope is ta intervene before she puts her plan in place. She ain’t no bonehead like Carver, though. She’ll be tough ta find. I’m still thinkin’ on that.

But she drew the close hit, so she only moves if Carver fails, so as long as I can put off Carver’s attempt, she won’t do nothin’ ’til real close ta the trial.” He sighed. “But them two are jus’ the beginnin’ a my problems.”

Meg nodded. “Petros.”

“Oh, ya heard?”

“It’s all over the place. You’d think the guy was Keyser Soze for all the rumors that run around about him. You know, it’s often occurred to me that criminal enterprise would run a lot more smoothly if all the criminals could keep their damn mouths shut, which they seem pathologically incapable of doing.”

“Mmm. Makes it easier fer us, though.”

“You were never one to flap your lips.”

“Why I’m still around.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She leaned forward. “I’ll deal with Petros, if you want. So you can concentrate on Carver and JJ.”

D regarded her, thinking. Did he trust her enough for that? Did he think she could handle it? He only needed a few moments’ contemplation to decide that the answers were yes and yes. “Okay. Be easier if I knew what he was gonna do.”

“Has it occurred to you that he could be here for you?”

“Cain’t be. He works fer the brothers, it’s gotta be ’bout Jack. It ain’t the brothers on my personal ass but somebody else who’s yet ta show their face. I’m bettin’ they got him inta town in case Jack makes it ta the stand and inta Witsec. That is one a his special talents.”

Meg seemed to consider this, then let it drop. “What’s your plan for after?

Assuming no one gets to Jack.”

“Well, he’ll be goin inta Witsec.”

“I can’t believe you’re content to just leave it there.” D smirked, a hard little half-smile. “Hell, no. I’m gonna fix it so he don’t hafta stay in Witsec. Can get his own name back, be a surgeon again.”

“That’ll be a neat trick. How are you going to pull that one off?”

“I got some ideas.”

She seemed to get the message that he had no intention of discussing those ideas just now. They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their coffee. When Megan spoke again, her voice was quiet. “And what about after, for you and Jack?” she said. “Have you thought about that?”

D stared down at his coffee. “I thought about it.” She was waiting for him to go on, but D wasn’t about to talk about his plans for a future with Jack, not even to her. Even if Zero at the Bone | 167

he’d wanted to, which he didn’t, speaking it aloud seemed like a risk, like he’d curse his hopes if he voiced them and made them real.

The truth was, he hardly dared think about that future in any kind of detail. Jack had talked about a house and dogs and a garden. D hadn’t gotten that far. All he could bear to think about was some undefined future time when he’d see Jack again, and about not having to leave him forever. Past that, everything was vague and cloudy, because he couldn’t stand to make it distinct. If he did, and it didn’t happen, then he’d have outlines and details floating around inside his head to torment him with what he couldn’t have. It was bad enough that his mind kept insisting on reminding him that it was very possible—

even probable—that Jack would die, and that all D would have of him would be a grave somewhere.

A grave D would never visit, because if the worst happened, all he could imagine doing was vanishing into the night, cutting all ties to the world, and floating through his existence like a specter, touching nothing or nobody ever again.

JACK blinked awake and rolled over. The bed was ridiculously comfortable. He’d gotten used to the lumpy mattress at the Redding house, and after that a week’s worth of anonymous fleabag motels, but this… this was heaven. Even so, he hadn’t slept all that well, and he blamed his solitude. He hadn’t slept alone in some time, and it felt wrong not to have D’s weight in the bed next to him, his body heat reminding Jack of his presence even when they weren’t touching. The bed felt cold with only himself to warm it.

He smiled when his eyes lit on the little box of chocolate-covered cherries on the nightstand, but not for long. Cherries were a poor substitute.

He turned over and stretched an arm across the empty, cold space where D ought to have been but wasn’t, and likely wouldn’t be for a long time. The day stretched out endless before him, a day trapped in this hotel room with nothing to do but brood and really relish the depression that he felt lurking in the corner, waiting to pounce.

He put his hands over his face.
Goddamn. It’s all gone. My life, my job, my home,
my city, my friends.
He’d done his best through this never-ending ordeal not to think about how much he’d lost and how profoundly his life had changed, and for the most part he’d succeeded, but now there was nothing to distract him from it.