BooksBarbecue
Back Back Blast Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. Titles by Mark Greaney
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. CONTENTS
  7. Epigraph
  8. CHARACTERS
  9. PROLOGUE
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. 49
  59. 50
  60. 51
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. 54
  64. 55
  65. 56
  66. 57
  67. 58
  68. 59
  69. 60
  70. 61
  71. 62
  72. 63
  73. 64
  74. 65
  75. 66
  76. 67
  77. 68
  78. 69
  79. 70
  80. 71
  81. 72
  82. 73
  83. 74
  84. 75
  85. 76
  86. 77
  87. 78
  88. EPILOGUE

“Again, sorry about the hour, but I’m doing a story on a double homicide in Washington Highlands and I could use your professional opinion.”

Catherine lay back down on her right side. “The butler did it. Can I go back to sleep?”

Andy chuckled. “I can pretty much guarantee this dump didn’t have a butler. No, actually I’m calling because I was told the CIA was here, looking over the crime scene. I haven’t run into that before, so I thought I’d reach out to you.”

Catherine King sat back up. “Hold on. Are you saying Agency personnel are investigating a homicide in the District?”

“That’s the word I got. The dick who made the scene first—”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry, the detective said he was told the men inside were Homeland Security. He didn’t outright say CIA, but that was his inference.”

“What’s the connection to Langley?”

“I don’t have a clue, and it doesn’t seem like the cops do, either. The crime scene is a suspected Aryan Brotherhood property, but I don’t know if that’s relevant or not. I do know you are the paper’s veteran National Security correspondent, so I thought maybe you could help, since nobody knows more about the intelligence community in this town than you do.”

King picked up on the platitude, and it told her something about this Andy Shoal. Cops reporters were usually either grizzled old vets or else they were young and ambitious. Shoal, it was clear, was the latter, and he was sucking up to her a little. She absolutely hated to be called a veteran reporter; she found this almost as bad as when she was referred to as an institution, which also happened on occasion. But she was too intrigued by Andy’s information to be either flattered or annoyed. “I can’t think of a soul on that side of the Anacostia who would be of interest to CIA. I suppose if they are counterintel officers and they caught one of their people visiting a drug house then that would rouse Langley in the middle of the night, but that’s just a guess.”

“It was one male, with bodyguards, and one female. I got pretty good pictures of both of them.”

“You did, did you? You need to be careful doing that with Agency personnel. They are camera shy as a species. Did they see you take their picture?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You want to send them to my phone?”

“On the way.”