The Triangle Conspiracy by David Kent

Author:David Kent [Kent, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thrillers, General, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9780743497527
Google: AGgLuVEGGPcC
Amazon: 074349752X
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2006-10-29T23:00:00+00:00

22

AT FIRST FAITH THOUGHT DARYN WOULD FOLLOW her out of the bedroom, but Daryn stayed where she was, propped against the wall in the semidarkness. Faith whipped out her cell phone. Her first call was to Chief Deputy Mark Raines in the office of the Marshals Service. She ordered a protective detail-two teams, twelve-hour shifts-and Raines got right on it, no questions asked. She also asked if they could provide her a car for the short term. Affirmative, with no questions. Such was the way of Department Thirty.

The two deputies arrived in two cars, a little less than an hour later. Faith knew both of them. The woman, Hagy, had done protection on the Alex Bridge case last year, and the man, Leneski, was one of the few Faith actually counted as personal friends. She gave them vague instructions-vague instructions are my life, she thought for a moment-then left to go shopping. She went to the giant supermarket on the corner of Danforth and Santa Fe and bought a variety of ready-to-eat and microwavable foods, bottled water, juice, and some Tylenol for Daryn’s headaches. She took the groceries back to the safe house, then left Daryn and the two deputies.

It was a little past noon, and the brilliant skies of morning had turned to drizzle. You don’t like the weather in Oklahoma, wait five minutes, someone had told her shortly after she moved to the state. It was especially volatile in spring: sunshine, heat, wind, thunderstorms, even tornadoes-all in the space of a single day. She’d seen it many times by now.

She wasn’t really hungry, adrenaline pumping in overdrive, but she’d learned in doing recruitments-or “intakes”-that she got so wrapped up in things that she sometimes simply forgot to eat, and would then suddenly find herself sapped of energy when her adrenaline crashed. So she drove through McDonald’s, ate without tasting, and made her next call as she drove south through Edmond.

“Richard Conway,” said a voice she knew well.

She had to wait a moment, as she always did. She knew the voice, the precise, occasionally pompous diction, but he wasn’t Conway to her, and never would be. He was still Dean Yorkton in her mind. Ironically for the present case, he’d been a field officer, living next door to Frank and Anna Elder in the neighborhood she’d just left, for more than twenty years. Now he was the director of Department Thirty, administering the unit from a tiny unmarked office in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.

“Mr. Director,” she said, knowing how he liked formality.

“My dear Officer Kelly,” Yorkton said. “I haven’t heard your voice in a while, though I was just preparing to type you a message giving you the go-ahead on the Bankston case.”

Faith nodded. “Good. I’ll move him as soon as I can. I’m calling about something new that’s come my way.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

“Have you heard anything about a bombing of the Chase bank building here in Oklahoma City this morning?”

“It was on CNN. Dreadful business. I know that building well, from when I lived there.

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