NET FORCE #01 - Net Force by Tom Clancy

Author:Tom Clancy [Clancy, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: #genre
ISBN: 9780425161722
Publisher: Berkley Pub Group
Published: 1999-02-01T08:00:00+00:00

Thursday, September 30th, 11 p.m. Washington, D.C.

“I bet you’ve never seen anybody get killed, have you, Scout?”

The little dog wagged his tail, momentarily diverted from his sniffing and peeing. When it didn’t seem as if the comment would lead to a command, he resumed his work.

In her old-woman disguise, the Selkie moved toward the target’s condo. She had decided to do it tonight. The target was still awake, a bit late for him, but his reading light was on, and it was going to be simple, clean, in and out. By the time anybody knew he was dead, she would be home and Phyllis Markham would have vanished forever.

The Selkie bent down to pet the dog. As she did so, she unsnapped his leash, but said, “Scout, heel.”

She adjusted her thin white cotton gloves, took a grip on the cane and came slowly and painfully to her feet. When she continued on her gimpy way, the dog stayed with her. Anybody from more than a few feet away would likely think the toy poodle was still on the lead, especially if they’d seen them together before. People saw what you gave them to see.

When she got to the target’s condo, she forced herself to take several deep breaths. No matter how many times she did a job, the adrenaline rush always came. Her heart raced, her breathing speeded up, she felt tight, itchy, anxious to move. It was something she could use, the rush, and part of the allure. If it ever got to the point where she didn’t feel the touch of stage fright, the roiling butterflies in her belly, she’d quit, no matter how much money she was shy of her goal. If she got that blasé, it would be too dangerous.

The darkness was alive with fall smells: foliage, grass, the perfume of a softener-sheet in somebody’s clothes dryer’s exhaust. The air was sensually cool on her skin where she was not covered with makeup. The stars glittered through the city glow, hard gems in a mostly clear sky. A moth fluttered by, and his flight left ghostly trails in the night air. Sensations always turned psychedelically sharp when the life-and-death game came to its final moves. This was another part of the attraction.

One was never so alive as when dancing with Death.

She looked around, and saw she was alone. She urged Scout into the bushes to the left of the front door, where he couldn’t be seen. “Scout, down, stay,” she said.

Obediently, the little dog sat, then stretched out. She’d tested him, and he’d held that position for at least an hour.

She wouldn’t need but five minutes at the outside. The Selkie moved to the door and rang the bell.

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