Read Online Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God by Reginald Cook - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Reginald Cook
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down the freeway, Robert slowed down to fifty and made a sudden exit off I-94 at Illinois Route 60/Townline Road. The car stayed right on his tail, a red police light now flashing from the dashboard. Robert made a right turn onto Route 60/Townline Road, which was lightly trafficked, and kept going. The sedan fired up its siren. Robert pulled into a busy gas station and jumped out, hand on his gun. Two men exited the sedan.
On the passenger side, a tall, thick shouldered, African-American stared at him like a pit bull. The other, a half bald waif of a WASP, with a nearly finished cigarette hanging from his lips, Robert recognized. He was Assistant Director of Field Operations, Glenn Thompson, CIA.
“I knew you’d pick us up right away,” said Thompson, taking a long last drag and tossing the butt on the asphalt. “We were going to wait until you reached the city before we stopped you; thought you’d be less likely to shoot us in a crowd.” He laughed, marched over and stuck out his hand. Robert shook it, looking over at the stone-faced black man, who still hadn’t said a word. “Allow me to introduce Special Agent Kirk Maxwell. He’s here from D.C., and specializes in finding missing persons.”
Agent Maxwell walked over and shook Robert’s hand, but remained stoic.
“You’re here because of Samuel?” asked Robert.
“Yes,” said Thompson. “Thought we’d lend a helping hand to Donovan, he’s still family.”
“Since when do retired agents rate a visit from an assistant director?
Even in a case like this.”
“Since the Director himself ordered it,” answered Thompson. “It seems as though he’s taken a personal interest in helping find Samuel.” Bullshit , thought Robert. You guys don’t give a shit about anybody who’s not important to you. “Well, we can certainly use all the help we can get,” said Robert, taking another look at Agent Maxwell, who was now leaning back against the hood of the sedan. “You know anything I haven’t already heard?”
“I’m not sure. How much do you know?” asked Thompson.
Robert measured both men. Something big is going on. The same something Donovan is keeping from me. “Samuel’s gone, and nobody’s heard a peep from the kidnappers. I’ve scrounged around a bit, but haven’t come up with a thing.”
The two men looked at each other.
“What about at the school?” asked Agent Maxwell, his voice calm and smooth. “Find out anything important from the kids or staff?” Robert decided he wouldn’t mention the breakdown of Samuel’s two best friends. “No, nothing,” he said. “It was a dead end.”
“So, what’s your next move?” chimed Thompson. “Any way we can be of assistance?”
“Yes,” said Robert. “You can start by telling me the reason you’re really out here. I know you guys. I used to be on the team, remember?
Now, why the sudden intense interest in Samuel Napier?” Agent Maxwell took a step toward Robert. “We could tell you, but then again, like you said you’re not one of us.” Robert smiled at the rookie’s mistake. So, there is something you guys want.
“Stand down, Agent Maxwell. Wait for me in the car,” ordered Thompson, pulling a pack of Camels from his inside pocket. Agent Maxwell, not happy, slid inside the sedan and slammed the door. “Let’s walk,” said Thompson, brushing by Robert, a freshly lit cigarette in his mouth.
Just beyond the gas station was a small park, empty, except for a few joggers and a homeless man carrying two large plastic bags on his shoulders. Thompson stopped at a severely chipped, green wooden bench and sat. Robert eased down next to him, his scowl and wrinkled forehead demanding answers.
“I can’t tell you much,” said Thompson. “In fact, we don’t know much.”
“Then tell me why the CIA is interested in a little boy’s kidnapping?
And don’t feed me the bullshit about caring for Donavon. ” The silence lasted a second too long, and Robert knew he
On the passenger side, a tall, thick shouldered, African-American stared at him like a pit bull. The other, a half bald waif of a WASP, with a nearly finished cigarette hanging from his lips, Robert recognized. He was Assistant Director of Field Operations, Glenn Thompson, CIA.
“I knew you’d pick us up right away,” said Thompson, taking a long last drag and tossing the butt on the asphalt. “We were going to wait until you reached the city before we stopped you; thought you’d be less likely to shoot us in a crowd.” He laughed, marched over and stuck out his hand. Robert shook it, looking over at the stone-faced black man, who still hadn’t said a word. “Allow me to introduce Special Agent Kirk Maxwell. He’s here from D.C., and specializes in finding missing persons.”
Agent Maxwell walked over and shook Robert’s hand, but remained stoic.
“You’re here because of Samuel?” asked Robert.
“Yes,” said Thompson. “Thought we’d lend a helping hand to Donovan, he’s still family.”
“Since when do retired agents rate a visit from an assistant director?
Even in a case like this.”
“Since the Director himself ordered it,” answered Thompson. “It seems as though he’s taken a personal interest in helping find Samuel.” Bullshit , thought Robert. You guys don’t give a shit about anybody who’s not important to you. “Well, we can certainly use all the help we can get,” said Robert, taking another look at Agent Maxwell, who was now leaning back against the hood of the sedan. “You know anything I haven’t already heard?”
“I’m not sure. How much do you know?” asked Thompson.
Robert measured both men. Something big is going on. The same something Donovan is keeping from me. “Samuel’s gone, and nobody’s heard a peep from the kidnappers. I’ve scrounged around a bit, but haven’t come up with a thing.”
The two men looked at each other.
“What about at the school?” asked Agent Maxwell, his voice calm and smooth. “Find out anything important from the kids or staff?” Robert decided he wouldn’t mention the breakdown of Samuel’s two best friends. “No, nothing,” he said. “It was a dead end.”
“So, what’s your next move?” chimed Thompson. “Any way we can be of assistance?”
“Yes,” said Robert. “You can start by telling me the reason you’re really out here. I know you guys. I used to be on the team, remember?
Now, why the sudden intense interest in Samuel Napier?” Agent Maxwell took a step toward Robert. “We could tell you, but then again, like you said you’re not one of us.” Robert smiled at the rookie’s mistake. So, there is something you guys want.
“Stand down, Agent Maxwell. Wait for me in the car,” ordered Thompson, pulling a pack of Camels from his inside pocket. Agent Maxwell, not happy, slid inside the sedan and slammed the door. “Let’s walk,” said Thompson, brushing by Robert, a freshly lit cigarette in his mouth.
Just beyond the gas station was a small park, empty, except for a few joggers and a homeless man carrying two large plastic bags on his shoulders. Thompson stopped at a severely chipped, green wooden bench and sat. Robert eased down next to him, his scowl and wrinkled forehead demanding answers.
“I can’t tell you much,” said Thompson. “In fact, we don’t know much.”
“Then tell me why the CIA is interested in a little boy’s kidnapping?
And don’t feed me the bullshit about caring for Donavon. ” The silence lasted a second too long, and Robert knew he
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