Primary Target. Джек Марс

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      “We’re number thirty-one, are we?” Luke said. “What are we number thirty-one at?”

      The guy shrugged and smiled.

      “I don’t know, man. Maybe you can guess.”

      Luke nearly laughed.

      “I can’t guess,” he said. “Maybe you can just help me out a little.”

      “Healthcare,” the guy said. “We’re number thirty-one in healthcare, according to the World Health Organization. We’re number one in healthcare expenditures, though, if you’re looking for something to be proud about.”

      Luke was still holding the guy’s hand.

      “I’d be proud to break a few of your bones, and see what a good job American doctors do putting them back together. But you’d probably prefer to get them fixed in Mexico.”

      Swann took his hand back. “Cuba, maybe. Or Canada.”

      “Very nice, Mark,” Don said. “I’m sure Agent Stone is glad to discover that he’s been risking his neck all these years for a country with such a mediocre healthcare performance.”

      Don gestured with his head at the audiovisual set-up. “How’s it coming?”

      Mark nodded. “The first display is ready to go. High-definition, high-speed connection. You can pull that keyboard up on the table there, and that small screen, and access any of your own files just by using your login. You can choose whatever you want to share and it’ll come up on the big screen. I can easily make that ability available to anyone in the building—I just wanted you to take it for a test drive first, see how you like it.”

      Don nodded. “Very cool. What about visitors? Also, what about sharing information with other venues?”

      The kid Mark Swann raised his hands as if to say Don’t shoot! “It’s coming. But we’re going to want airtight encryption before we start broadcasting intelligence outside the building. You can email anything you want. But in terms of putting up video imagery or data that appear elsewhere, or bringing broadcasts in here? That’ll happen on a case-by-case basis with each partner. CIA, NSA, the White House if it comes to that, even FBI headquarters. They’ve all got their own procedures and we’re going to be following their leads.”

      Don nodded. “Okay, Mark. I like it already. Can you give Agent Stone and me about twenty, maybe thirty minutes? And send Trudy Wellington in here?”

      Swann nodded. “Sure.”

      When he left, Don looked at Luke.

      “Funny kid,” Luke said.

      “Whiz kid,” Don said. “My goal here is to hire the best. And when it comes to that, it isn’t always the guy who fits the suit the best. In terms of technology, usually it isn’t. We’re cowboys in here, Luke. We’re the kids who color outside the lines. That’s what they want from us. The FBI director said that himself.”

      “I’m with you,” Luke said.

      “You should be. You’re one of the best special operators I’ve seen in my long career, and in terms of coloring outside the lines… well…”

      Suddenly a young woman appeared in the doorway. If anything, she was even younger than the guy who just left. Don was staffing this place up with children. This child, however, was beautiful. She had long, curly brown hair. She wore a dress shirt and slacks that hugged her curves. She wore big red eyeglasses that gave her a slight owlish appearance.

      “Don?”

      “Trudy, come in. I want you to meet Luke Stone. He’s the man I told you about. Luke, this is Trudy Wellington. She is our new intel officer. She’s another whiz kid, graduated MIT as a teenager, spent a couple of years in CIA listening stations. Now she’s with us, ready to take a quantum leap to the next level of spycraft.”

      Luke shook hands with the young woman. She was a little sheepish, wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Hell, she was still a kid.

      Luke glanced back and forth between Don and Trudy. Something about the body language…

      Nah, it was impossible. Don had been married for thirty years. He had a daughter and a son who were older than this Trudy person.

      “Trudy’s going to brief us on the mission we have on deck.”

      Trudy sat right down at the conference table. Luke and Don did the same. She immediately took the keyboard, pulled the small monitor forward, and typed in her information. Her office computer’s desktop appeared on the large flat-panel display on the wall.

      “You already know how to use this?” Don said.

      “Yeah, well… We had AV stuff like this at MIT, of course. Not so much at CIA that I saw, but I imagine they have it somewhere. Swann gave me access earlier. I think he was showing off.”

      “Anyway, it’s pretty cool,” Don said.

      Luke nodded. He almost laughed again. He pictured steel-eyed Don as he had known him these past several years—parachuting into combat zones, commanding men in the field, remorselessly killing bad guys. He seemed almost absurdly proud of his little agency, its office gizmos, and the young civilians who manipulated them with such ease. Well, good for him.

      On the screen, a United States Marine Corps ID appeared. It showed a soldier with a flattop haircut, a broad jaw, and a threatening gaze. He seemed sarcastic, irritated, and ready to murder someone all at once. He looked like the kind of guy who would do his combat service overseas, then come home and spend his time getting in bar fights during R&R. A rough customer.

      Luke had seen a lot of guys like that. As a matter of fact, he had knocked a few of them unconscious.

      “I’m going to assume that neither of you have prior knowledge of the subject, or the task at hand,” Trudy said. “It might make this conversation a little longer than necessary, it might not. But it tends to guarantee we’re all on the same page. Sound okay?”

      “Good,” Don said.

      “Sounds okay to me,” Luke said.

      She nodded. “Then let’s begin. The man on the screen is former Marine Corps Sergeant Edwin Lee Parr. Thirty-seven years old, raised in Kentucky, south of Lexington. Combat veteran, who saw action in both the invasion of Panama in 1989, and the Gulf War. He was also deployed in a peacekeeping role at the end of the Kosovo War. Purple Heart and a Bronze Star for meritorious service during the invasion of Panama. Honorable discharge December 1999, after twelve years of service.

      “Parr came home and kicked around the country for a year and a half after that, doing security work. He had a concealed carry license, and was mostly a personal bodyguard, mostly for businessmen, often for diamond dealers. He worked for a firm called White Knight Security, and bounced between New York, Miami, Chicago, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. A few documented trips to Tokyo, Hong Kong, and London, though it isn’t clear how the firearm regulations were handled in those cases.”

      Luke stared into the man’s angry eyes. It didn’t seem like bad work for a combat veteran. Not much action, but plenty of movement. It might even appeal to a man like…

      “Then September eleven happened,” Trudy said.

      “Did СКАЧАТЬ