Last Man by Vince Flynn

Author:Vince Flynn [Flynn, Vince]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, Suspense, Mystery, Adventure
ISBN: 9781416595212
Google: ItvZr-OV0DEC
Amazon: 1470338955
Barnesnoble: 1470338955
Goodreads: 13573622
Publisher: Center Point
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 34

CAL Patterson was about to shit a brick. He’d busted his ass at Holy Cross, playing football and graduating with honors and an accounting degree. Three years later he had a law degree from the University of Virginia and a job with the FBI. He’d made all the right moves. Done everything his uncle had told him to do. His uncle had put in thirty-five years with the FBI and Patterson idolized him. During Patterson’s first two years he worked seventy-hour weeks and volunteered for everything that was dangled in front of him and then some. His bosses loved him and he was rewarded with an assignment to the Counterintelligence Division. Even his uncle was impressed.

Now after just twenty-nine days in his new job, his entire career was hanging in the lurch. Patterson was all screwed up from the time change and couldn’t sleep, so he rose early, put on his workout gear, and headed to the base’s fitness center. Patterson was pleased to find out that the facility was nicer than anything the Bureau had. He was in the middle of a five-mile run on the treadmill when he saw the screen on his phone light up with the words Private Number. Patterson smacked the Pause button and yanked out his earbuds. Private Number usually meant Wilson or someone in their group.

“Hello,” he said, a little out of breath.

“Special Agent Patterson.”

“Speaking.”

“This is Executive Assistant Director Hargrave. Would you like to tell me just where in the hell Agent Wilson is?”

“Ah . . . I assume he’s sleeping, sir.” Patterson knew exactly who Hargrave was, as he had just brought Wilson by his house before they left for Afghanistan.

“Any idea why he’s not answering his phone?”

“Probably because he’s sleeping, sir.” Patterson regretted the answer immediately.

“Agent Patterson, who do you work for?”

“The FBI, sir.”

“That’s correct, and who does Special Agent Wilson work for?”

“The FBI, sir.”

“That’s correct. We don’t turn our phones off . . . ever. Do you understand me, young man?”

“I do, sir.”

“Do you like your job?”

“Ahhhh . . . yes, I do, sir. Very much, sir.”

“Well, let me give you a little advice. If you want to keep working for the FBI, you are going to follow my instructions to the letter. Do you know where Agent Wilson is right now?”

“I think he’s in his quarters, sir.”

“And where are you?”

“I’m at the gym.”

“Well, you are going to go wake his insubordinate ass up and you are going to call me back and put him on the phone. Have I made myself clear?”

Patterson stepped off the treadmill. “Crystal clear, sir.”

“If I don’t hear back from you in ten minutes, your career is over.”

“Sir?”

“What?”

“I need your number.”

“I’ll text it to you. Call me back in ten minutes.”

Patterson was about to respond but the line went dead. He noted the time on his watch and stuffed his phone and his earbuds in the zippered pockets of his running shorts. He grabbed his sweatshirt and started running. The trailer where Wilson was sleeping was only two minutes from where he was, but Patterson wasn’t about to take any chances.

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