Red Swan by Deutermann P. T

Author:Deutermann, P. T. [Deutermann, P. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Action & Adventure, Thrillers, thriller, Espionage, Mystery, Adventure, Fiction, Political
ISBN: 9781250114082
Amazon: 125011408X
Barnesnoble: 125011408X
Goodreads: 31450704
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2017-08-22T07:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

At the end of his first day among the First Team, Allender went out the front entrance to find a black Expedition waiting for him. He got into the backseat only to discover that Carson McGill was sitting in the right front seat.

“Honey, I’m home,” Allender announced, and McGill snorted. He told the driver to drive down to the Mall. When they neared the World War II memorial, the car stopped. They got out and went for a walk.

“What do they know?” he asked.

“Not much,” Allender said. “They never saw the scene, the body, or a CSI report, and if I’m not mistaken, they don’t have a clue as to what to do next.”

“Good,” McGill said. “I was hoping that’s what you’d find.”

“There is the slightest possibility that they know they’re being fucked with.”

“Of course they do,” McGill said. “That’s why I’m going to provide you with a list of names. These are supposedly people who’ve gotten across the breakers with Wallace over the years. Some people he fired, some others who wanted his job but were outmaneuvered, two women who accused him of sexual harassment, and a guy who claimed Wallace was working for another intelligence service. Some are still active, some retired. The guy who accused him of being a spy is ‘missing.’”

“Any merit to any of those accusations?”

“The women, possibly. Hank was a hands-on kinda guy when it came to pretty women. Grew out of it once he became Deppity Dawg, or so I was told.”

“And you want me to hand this list over to the Bureau team?”

“Yup,” McGill said. “Give them some bones to gnash. They’re good at investigating people, and it fits: who else would have a motive, if it was a homicide.”

“You think it was a homicide?”

McGill shrugged. “Our lab people say that the absence of any evidence of what might have killed him suggests that something seriously occult did the deed. They’re talking to the NIH as we speak.”

“The Bureau team really wishes you hadn’t cremated the remains.”

“We kept tissue samples, as I told you. We’ll share if they wish.”

“I think they do wish, but they’ve not been able to find out how to get some samples.”

“Tell them to talk to their CIA liaison officer,” McGill said, as the driver, responding to some signal Allender hadn’t seen, drew alongside the curb. “Metro’s right up there,” McGill said, as he got back into the Expedition. “Your comms gear will be in place at home and in your FBI office by midnight.”

As the big black vehicle pulled out into traffic, Allender realized McGill hadn’t given him any list. The nearest Metro station was Smithsonian, about a half mile away. He started walking, oblivious to the thinning crowds of tourists admiring all the monuments, but then he found himself having to step aside for an organized tour group of chattering Chinese tourists, who were dutifully following their tour leader down toward the Lincoln Memorial. The tour leader had a bright red flag raised over her head to ensure that none of her charges went astray.

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