Read Online Blood Pact (McGarvey) by David Hagberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Hagberg
Ads: Link
shots at the wall eighteen inches to the left of the open door.
Heurtas grunted something, and dropped the pistol as he fell backward with a tremendous crash.
“Mac?” Rencke shouted.
“I’m okay,” McGarvey said, straightening up.
Heurtas was down on his back, a lot of blood welling up from a chest wound, and one in the side of his face just above his jawline. His arms were outstretched, the pistol he’d dropped just out of reach of his right hand. But he was alive, his eyes filled with pain and with hate.
“Bastardo,” he wheezed, and he tried to reach for his pistol, but McGarvey kicked it away.
“What was the sense of it?” McGarvey asked. “The one who left in the boat will get back to Madrid, if he’s lucky, and tell them what? Mission accomplished? Petain is dead?”
A sudden look of intense terror came into the Spaniard’s eyes. “Petain?” he said, coughing, and he went slack, his eyes open.
McGarvey bent down and felt for a pulse at the man’s neck, but there was none.
Otto was calling his name, and he went back into the surveillance room. “It’s okay,” he said. “Are you finished with the download?”
“Yes, it only took a couple of minutes. I was stalling to give you some time to defuse the situation. What happened?”
McGarvey was tired. “Three people are dead up at the college, and three more are dead here. The cops are going to have a hell of a time figuring it out, and the trouble is I’m not going to be able to help them, because I don’t know what this is all about.”
“Hopefully there’ll be something on the computer that sheds some light. But what do you want to do next?”
“I’m not going to let it go, if that’s what you mean.”
“I didn’t think so. But sooner or later the cops down there are going to find the mess and make the connection between the car bombing and the bodies and surveillance equipment and come knocking on your door. So what do you want to do, kemo sabe ?”
“I’ll fly up in the morning and we’ll go over whatever you decipher on the laptop.”
“I’ll send a plane; I don’t think it’d be such a good idea right now if you flew commercial, in case the locals are keeping an eye on you.”
“Make it seven at Dolphin Aviation,” McGarvey said. “There’s usually not too many people around at that hour.”
“Don’t push your luck, Mac. Get out of there.”
“Do you want me to take the laptop?”
“No need, I’m going to fry it,” Rencke said. “Watch yourself.”
Before McGarvey could turn away the computer screen went blank, and the power light went out on it and all the surveillance equipment.
Pistol in hand, in case the fourth CNI operator had not left on the boat and was still somewhere in the house or on the property, McGarvey made a quick search of the other bedrooms, finding passports in the names of Juan Fernandez, Diego Cubrero, Rufo Tadena, and the woman Sophia de Rosas—who the man he’d killed downstairs had called Donica or Doni. The passport pictures matched the woman and the two men, only the fourth for Rufo Tadena was of a man he’d not seen.
More significantly was the fact he found only four sets of documents, four overnight bags, sets of clothing and toiletries in four separate bedrooms.
Pocketing the passports, he went downstairs and methodically made a search of the entire house, before he switched off the pool lights and stepped inside where he stood in the shadows for a long moment listening to the near absence of any sounds except for the call of some night hunting bird in the far distance. No boats were passing on the ICW, nor any car on the island’s single road, and the only light was the glow in the sky to the north from Sarasota.
The real world seemed a long ways off just at that moment, the deaths at the university and the three here that he’d killed weighed heavily. Senseless, all of them, especially because he still had no certain idea of the why of it, except for a diary
Heurtas grunted something, and dropped the pistol as he fell backward with a tremendous crash.
“Mac?” Rencke shouted.
“I’m okay,” McGarvey said, straightening up.
Heurtas was down on his back, a lot of blood welling up from a chest wound, and one in the side of his face just above his jawline. His arms were outstretched, the pistol he’d dropped just out of reach of his right hand. But he was alive, his eyes filled with pain and with hate.
“Bastardo,” he wheezed, and he tried to reach for his pistol, but McGarvey kicked it away.
“What was the sense of it?” McGarvey asked. “The one who left in the boat will get back to Madrid, if he’s lucky, and tell them what? Mission accomplished? Petain is dead?”
A sudden look of intense terror came into the Spaniard’s eyes. “Petain?” he said, coughing, and he went slack, his eyes open.
McGarvey bent down and felt for a pulse at the man’s neck, but there was none.
Otto was calling his name, and he went back into the surveillance room. “It’s okay,” he said. “Are you finished with the download?”
“Yes, it only took a couple of minutes. I was stalling to give you some time to defuse the situation. What happened?”
McGarvey was tired. “Three people are dead up at the college, and three more are dead here. The cops are going to have a hell of a time figuring it out, and the trouble is I’m not going to be able to help them, because I don’t know what this is all about.”
“Hopefully there’ll be something on the computer that sheds some light. But what do you want to do next?”
“I’m not going to let it go, if that’s what you mean.”
“I didn’t think so. But sooner or later the cops down there are going to find the mess and make the connection between the car bombing and the bodies and surveillance equipment and come knocking on your door. So what do you want to do, kemo sabe ?”
“I’ll fly up in the morning and we’ll go over whatever you decipher on the laptop.”
“I’ll send a plane; I don’t think it’d be such a good idea right now if you flew commercial, in case the locals are keeping an eye on you.”
“Make it seven at Dolphin Aviation,” McGarvey said. “There’s usually not too many people around at that hour.”
“Don’t push your luck, Mac. Get out of there.”
“Do you want me to take the laptop?”
“No need, I’m going to fry it,” Rencke said. “Watch yourself.”
Before McGarvey could turn away the computer screen went blank, and the power light went out on it and all the surveillance equipment.
Pistol in hand, in case the fourth CNI operator had not left on the boat and was still somewhere in the house or on the property, McGarvey made a quick search of the other bedrooms, finding passports in the names of Juan Fernandez, Diego Cubrero, Rufo Tadena, and the woman Sophia de Rosas—who the man he’d killed downstairs had called Donica or Doni. The passport pictures matched the woman and the two men, only the fourth for Rufo Tadena was of a man he’d not seen.
More significantly was the fact he found only four sets of documents, four overnight bags, sets of clothing and toiletries in four separate bedrooms.
Pocketing the passports, he went downstairs and methodically made a search of the entire house, before he switched off the pool lights and stepped inside where he stood in the shadows for a long moment listening to the near absence of any sounds except for the call of some night hunting bird in the far distance. No boats were passing on the ICW, nor any car on the island’s single road, and the only light was the glow in the sky to the north from Sarasota.
The real world seemed a long ways off just at that moment, the deaths at the university and the three here that he’d killed weighed heavily. Senseless, all of them, especially because he still had no certain idea of the why of it, except for a diary
Similar Books
