Red Specter by Brian Andrews & Jeffrey Wilson

Red Specter by Brian Andrews & Jeffrey Wilson

Author:Brian Andrews & Jeffrey Wilson [Andrews, Brian & Wilson, Jeffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542091527
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 24

FBI Tactical Mobility Unit, Papa One Lead SUV

Heading Southwest on Mažoji Vandens Gatvė

Klaipėda, Lithuania

2020 Local Time

Dempsey could feel Amarov’s eyes drilling a hole in the back of his head, but he resisted the urge to turn around and look at the Vory boss.

“He’s going to hunt you down,” the Russian said, his accented English and broken nose making him sound like an ominous Russian Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. “One by one, he’ll find you and gut each and every last member of your team.”

Why assholes in Amarov’s position felt compelled to taunt their captors and make hollow threats Dempsey would never understand. It was just a stupid, stupid thing to do. He turned around and looked at the FBI guy sitting next to the mobster. “You got a gag?”

The FBI man shook his head. “Nope. I don’t carry those.”

“How about a bottle of chloroform?”

The FBI agent raised his eyebrows in disbelief; then his expression turned to disapproval.

“Relax, he’s kidding,” Munn said.

Dempsey shifted his gaze to Amarov, who was sneering at him, a fool comforted by the fallacy of his delusion that he was somehow still in control of his world.

“How long have you worked for Malik?” he asked the Russian.

“I don’t work for Malik,” the mob boss said through a laugh. “We are business partners.”

“Did Arkady know about this hit tonight?” Buz interjected from the front passenger seat.

If Dempsey hadn’t been staring straight at the Russian, ready with a pointless quip, he would have missed the flicker of emotion in Amarov’s eyes. Dempsey knew that critical interrogations were filmed not just to document the exchange but also so that trained interrogators could slow down the recording and look for microexpressions exhibited by the subject being questioned. Unlike regular facial expressions, which could be controlled, microexpressions were involuntary, subconscious, and impossible to prevent or hide. Amarov’s expression had been surprise. Dempsey had seen it an instant before the Russian adopted a look of smug indifference.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Amarov said.

Dempsey turned and looked at Buz and saw a spark in the former CIA man’s eyes. Apparently, this was the confirmation he’d been waiting for—waiting for over a decade. The Russian spymaster Buz had been chasing his whole career, Arkady Zhukov, was alive and still pulling the puppet strings. Buz turned around in his seat to look out the windshield, but Dempsey could see in profile that he was smiling.

“All right, people,” Wang said in Dempsey’s ear, as giddy as a schoolboy about to get laid. “This is Zero and I got Big Brother on the line helping out now with some augmented processing power and imagery. Big Brother?”

“Your target is a single individual on the second floor of the Preliudija Bed and Breakfast,” Baldwin chimed in from the other side of the world. “It’s a rather small establishment at the coordinates that Richard—I mean Zero—gave you. Subject is seated at a desk on the north wall, second floor, southwest corner room. The boutique hotel has a single point of entry front and a rear entry from a courtyard with a seating area.



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