Suicide Mission by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-08-22T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

Langley, Virginia, one month after the New Sun

The windowless room Bill Elliott was in didn’t exist. Langley was famous for being where the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency was located. That wasn’t where Bill was. Any connection between the CIA and the outfit that leased this building was carefully hidden. Every yokel in the country knew about The Company. The people who knew about Bill’s former and once again current employers numbered in the dozens.

Three men and a woman came into the room where Bill sat at a long, gleaming, marble-topped conference table. One of the men was Clark. He grinned at Bill and said, “Good to see you again, old buddy-roo. Looks like you’ve been busy since San Antonio.”

Clark pointed at the thick file folder resting on the table under Bill’s hand.

“You told me to look for who I wanted,” Bill said. “I’ve been lookin’.”

As the newcomers sat down around the end of the table, he slid the file toward them. Then he reached over to an open laptop computer and hit a few keys. A big screen on the wall lit up.

“The information I’m about to go over is in that file,” Bill said, “but it’ll be quicker if I just tell you about it and let you study the stuff in more detail later. These are the candidates I’ve picked.”

“Wait a minute,” the woman said. “You were supposed to come up with a pool of potential candidates, Mr. Elliott, and we would pick the team.”

“No offense, ma’am, but if you want me to lead this team, I’m gonna decide who’s on it.”

The woman frowned and looked over at Clark, who shrugged and said, “I told you he’s got a mind of his own. But I trust his judgment.”

“Very well,” the woman said coldly. “We’ll listen . . . but no guarantees.”

“Fair enough,” Bill said, “since I don’t have any guarantees that these folks will go along with what we want. The odds are gonna be stacked pretty heavy against ’em, after all.”

“Just get on with it,” one of the other men said. “I have to get back to the White House so I can brief the president. He’s been very clear that none of this can ever come back on him.”

“We know,” Clark said. “Can’t have the president doing anything that might offend other countries . . . even countries that hate us and are trying to destroy us.”

The other man flushed angrily.

“Can’t we leave politics out of this?” he asked. “We have to put the good of the country first.”

“Since when did your party ever put—” Clark stopped short, shook his head, and went on, “Forget it. It’s a waste of breath arguing with you. Just tell the guy in the Oval Office that nothing we do will come back to bite him on the butt.”

“You mean the president,” the other man snapped.

“I mean the guy sitting in an office that he bought, just like the two bozos before him.”

The third man started to

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