Read Online Attorney's Run (A Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order) by R.J. Jagger, Jack Rain - Free Book Online Page B

a cup and fired up the Gateway to work the net, looking for anything that would disclose the identity of his European counterpart—the person most likely to be sent to kill him if the decision was made to take him out.
    Mid-morning his phone rang.
     
    A FRENCHMAN NAMED VARDON ST. GERMAINE said, “I was asked to contact you. The word is you’re nervous about what happens when the relationship ends.”
    The man spoke good English, with an accent but not much.
    Jekker paced.
    He hadn’t expected an actual call.
    “Go on,” he said.
    “I retired five years ago,” St. Germaine said. “They went their way and I went mine. It was as if neither of us ever existed. That’s all there is to it.”
    Jekker walked out onto the terrace.
    Down below people moved like ants.
    “How do I know you’re legitimate?” he asked. “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
    St. Germaine laughed.
    “You don’t,” he said. “And you above all people know that I’d never tell you anything that would associate me, or them, with an event.”
    “Would you trust you, if you were me?” Jekker asked.
    The man didn’t hesitate.
    “I don’t trust anyone,” he said, “and neither do you. So the point is moot. I will say this, though. I was told since day one to never, ever have or create any documentary proof or evidence of what I’ve done or who I’d done it for. I assume you’ve been told the same.”
    Jekker had.
    “They take that obligation very seriously,” the Frenchman said. “When I first retired, I had the same concerns as you, namely that they would be much better off if I was dead, quietly dead. That’s the big concern in your mind right now, if I understand the situation correctly.”
    True.
    It was.
    “At first,” St. Germaine said, “I thought about setting something down in writing, you know, dates, names, events, stuff like that—an insurance policy, in effect. You know, make the kind of document that would create a lot of collateral damage if someone decided to take me out and the police found it after the fact, say in my safe deposit box or mailed anonymously to the police by one of my relatives or friends. But I resisted the urge, and in hindsight that was the best decision I ever made.”
    “So stick with the rules is what you’re telling me,” Jekker said.
    “Exactly,” St. Germaine said. “Stick with the rules.”
    Jekker grunted.
    “What?”
    “That’s exactly what they would want me to do if they were going to take me out,” Jekker said.
    “That’s true,” St. Germaine said. “Ironic, isn’t it? The best way to stay alive is to make yourself fully vulnerable and then sit back and hope you made the right decision. The question is, do you have that kind of trust?”
    “No,” Jekker said.
    St. Germaine laughed.
    “Neither did I, but I did it anyway.”
    His voice trailed off as if the conversation was concluded.
    “Tell me one thing,” Jekker said. “Who replaced you?”
    The Frenchman hesitated, clearly deciding, and then said, “That goes against the rules. I’d be putting myself in jeopardy.”
    “Only if they found out,” Jekker said. “You trusted them. Now trust me. I’m giving you my word that no one will ever know you told me. I’ll never mention the man’s name to anyone.”
    St. Germaine exhaled.
    “He goes by several names. I have only heard one of them—Jean-Paul Boudiette.”
    “Can you describe him?”
    “No,” St. Germaine said. “I’ve never seen him. I’ve only heard his name, and that was just once, more than four years ago.” He paused and then added, “I hope that I don’t later learn that I misplaced my trust in you.”
    “You won’t,” Jekker assured him.
    “We are a special breed, you and I,” the Frenchman said. “Stay true to the cause and everything will work out the way it should.”
    “At least it did for you,” Jekker said.
    “Oui.”
     
    AN HOUR LATER HIS PHONE RANG AGAIN. This time it was his contact who said, “Did