Read Online Diary of an Assassin by Victor Methos - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victor Methos
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Rhett. “I spoke with our agents. I asked them who they thought the best in their field was. Number two, was him,” she said, tapping the photo. “Number one, was you.”
“I’m flattered.” He looked to the photo. “Is this the mark?”
“Yes. And a woman.”
“My standard fee is one million per mark.”
“Considering we’re getting you out of a life sentence, your standard fee is now one hundred thousand per mark.”
He exhaled and swore in French. “I don’t work for pennies.”
“Very well,” she said, taking the photo and putting it back in her purse. “It’s been…interesting meeting you. Have a good life.” She stood.
“Wait…” He swore again. “I will do it.”
She sat back down. “If you do not , and you flee, I promise you we will make the bounty on your head so high the penguins in Antarctica will be trying to kill you.”
He laughed. “That’s cute. Now , I need ten men, reliable men, and several military-grade items that I assume will not be difficult for you to procure. I will also need a credit line, two passports, and photo identifications, as well as—”
“Hold on, stop. I’ll send someone to pick you up when you’re released. You can give them a list.”
He bowed his head. As Vanessa walked out, he said, “Mademoiselle, I appreciate your trust.”
“I don’t trust you. But I need you. Just do your job and we won’t have any problems.”
CHAPTER 17
Rhett sat across the street from the police precinct at a café and sipped cappuccino. Stephanie and her friend had run down several blocks before they happened to find a policeman stopped at an intersection. The officer had taken them in. The man that had been chasing them wasn’t anywhere to be found and Rhett would glance into all the windows of the surrounding buildings every few minutes.
It was soon late in the afternoon when Rhett ordered lunch. The waitress was pleasant and didn’t say anything about the fact that he had sat there for several hours. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure she’d noticed. It was amazing how little people noted about their surroundings.
Rhett saw two men pull up to the precinct. FBI. He could always tell because they tended to dress similar ly: a ridiculous stay over from the days of J. Edgar Hoover, who insisted they wear white shirts and black suits no matter what they were doing.
The feds being involved complicated things. They would secure Stephanie away, probably in some safe-house in a nearby state , and he would have to get to her before Starlight could send someone in: they had the ability to forge any credential. If Stephanie were his mark, he would simply be given FBI identification—or any ID that would get him into the house—and he would give Stephanie an injection of potassium, which would mimic cardiac arrest.
Rhett paid for his lunch and went across the street. He took a small tracking device called a Spider—so named because of its eight small attachment hooks—and placed it on the rear bumper of the feds’ car. He then went to his own car, something he rented from Enterprise, and turned on the radio as he waited for them to come out.
Shortly after the feds had arrived, the two men were escorting Stephanie out of the precinct and to their car. Rhett followed them as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
Driving cautiously, Rhett could see that they were using basic tailing maneuvers. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He just rotated back and forth between several cars and stayed out of view of the rearview mirror.
The car eventually stopped at a hotel and one of the men went in. He came back out and nodded to the other man, who helped Stephanie from the car. Rhett thought it unusual that they would take her to a hotel rather than directly to the airport. He wondered why…
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
He jumped out of the car and ran around to the back of the hotel. A service door
“I’m flattered.” He looked to the photo. “Is this the mark?”
“Yes. And a woman.”
“My standard fee is one million per mark.”
“Considering we’re getting you out of a life sentence, your standard fee is now one hundred thousand per mark.”
He exhaled and swore in French. “I don’t work for pennies.”
“Very well,” she said, taking the photo and putting it back in her purse. “It’s been…interesting meeting you. Have a good life.” She stood.
“Wait…” He swore again. “I will do it.”
She sat back down. “If you do not , and you flee, I promise you we will make the bounty on your head so high the penguins in Antarctica will be trying to kill you.”
He laughed. “That’s cute. Now , I need ten men, reliable men, and several military-grade items that I assume will not be difficult for you to procure. I will also need a credit line, two passports, and photo identifications, as well as—”
“Hold on, stop. I’ll send someone to pick you up when you’re released. You can give them a list.”
He bowed his head. As Vanessa walked out, he said, “Mademoiselle, I appreciate your trust.”
“I don’t trust you. But I need you. Just do your job and we won’t have any problems.”
CHAPTER 17
Rhett sat across the street from the police precinct at a café and sipped cappuccino. Stephanie and her friend had run down several blocks before they happened to find a policeman stopped at an intersection. The officer had taken them in. The man that had been chasing them wasn’t anywhere to be found and Rhett would glance into all the windows of the surrounding buildings every few minutes.
It was soon late in the afternoon when Rhett ordered lunch. The waitress was pleasant and didn’t say anything about the fact that he had sat there for several hours. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure she’d noticed. It was amazing how little people noted about their surroundings.
Rhett saw two men pull up to the precinct. FBI. He could always tell because they tended to dress similar ly: a ridiculous stay over from the days of J. Edgar Hoover, who insisted they wear white shirts and black suits no matter what they were doing.
The feds being involved complicated things. They would secure Stephanie away, probably in some safe-house in a nearby state , and he would have to get to her before Starlight could send someone in: they had the ability to forge any credential. If Stephanie were his mark, he would simply be given FBI identification—or any ID that would get him into the house—and he would give Stephanie an injection of potassium, which would mimic cardiac arrest.
Rhett paid for his lunch and went across the street. He took a small tracking device called a Spider—so named because of its eight small attachment hooks—and placed it on the rear bumper of the feds’ car. He then went to his own car, something he rented from Enterprise, and turned on the radio as he waited for them to come out.
Shortly after the feds had arrived, the two men were escorting Stephanie out of the precinct and to their car. Rhett followed them as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
Driving cautiously, Rhett could see that they were using basic tailing maneuvers. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He just rotated back and forth between several cars and stayed out of view of the rearview mirror.
The car eventually stopped at a hotel and one of the men went in. He came back out and nodded to the other man, who helped Stephanie from the car. Rhett thought it unusual that they would take her to a hotel rather than directly to the airport. He wondered why…
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
He jumped out of the car and ran around to the back of the hotel. A service door
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