Read Online EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum by Shane Stadler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shane Stadler
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you.”
Fordham’s face flushed, but he grinned and spoke towards the window at Will’s back. “I think that’s enough.”
A tinny voice emanated from a speaker behind Will. “Okay.”
Fordham then looked to Will, smiling but still reddened. “I do believe you. So do the other members of our group. My job was to try to get you to do something to reveal your uh … talents .”
Will understood and immediately cooled down. He had to be more careful. They’d almost succeeded in getting him to reveal himself.
“I’m an experienced interrogator,” Fordham continued, “but it was unpleasant pissing you off like that – you having gone through so much. I feel ashamed.” He reached an open hand across the table.
Will shook his hand and said, “You did a good job.”
A door opened and two men and a woman entered. Will recognized two of them: the leader of his relocation case, Terrence Bolden, and the man who had snapped him during the surveillance exercise, Roy, who winked and nodded to him. He didn’t recognize the woman.
They all took chairs around the table and introduced themselves. Bolden was the youngest of the group, early thirties, tall, short brown hair, and wore small wire-framed glasses. He handed a sealed envelope to Will and flopped a large leather pouch on the table, making a sound like that of a big purse with keys concealed somewhere in its bowels.
Bolden started, directing his message to the whole group, “The people in this room, and one or two FBI contacts in your relocation area, are the only ones who will know your whereabouts. These are the only people you can trust.”
Will didn’t trust any of them.
Bolden handed him some documents. “Your cover name is William Tasker, and you’ll live in Baton Rouge, Louisiana for at least six months.”
“Baton Rouge?” Will asked, surprised.
“There’s some activity there,” Bolden explained. “We were going to wait on this, but after what happened last night with the Israeli, we want you out of Chicago as soon as possible. It should work well since you’re familiar with the place.”
Will nodded. He’d left Baton Rouge over a decade ago, but it was where he’d attended graduate school.
Bolden handed him a Social Security card, a Louisiana driver’s license, two credit cards, a mobile phone, a laptop computer, and a ring of keys. “A car is registered under your alias. The keys are for your new apartment. Nice place.”
Will looked at the pile of stuff in front of him. His stomach seemed to close in on itself. “When do I leave?” he asked.
“Collect your things tonight and head out early tomorrow morning,” Bolden replied as he handed Will the phone. “This has excellent security features, and it’s the only phone you should use. Don’t answer blocked calls or calls from unknown numbers.” Bolden raised an eyebrow. “If you’re going to continue to communicate with Ms. Walker, she needs to use a burner phone.”
Will nodded. He knew she was savvy about such things.
“If we need to contact you,” Bolden continued, “we’ll first send a text message with the code 523 .”
Will flinched at the number.
“We thought you’d remember it,” Bolden said.
It had been Will’s inmate number at the Red Box.
14
Friday, 8 May (8:38 a.m. EST – Washington)
Daniel listened intently. Horace’s voice was commanding for his age, and his face projected calmness even though his eyes seemed to show something else.
“This story starts with the early quest for Terra Australis Incognita, known now as Antarctica , of course,” Horace explained. “James Cook, better known as the famous Captain Cook of the storybooks, crossed the Antarctic Circle in the late 1700’s, but never found his way to the Antarctic mainland.” He stopped and addressed Daniel. “Undoubtedly your early research on Operation Tabarin has taken you to Cook’s voyages.”
Daniel shook his head. “Not yet.”
“It will, eventually,”
Fordham’s face flushed, but he grinned and spoke towards the window at Will’s back. “I think that’s enough.”
A tinny voice emanated from a speaker behind Will. “Okay.”
Fordham then looked to Will, smiling but still reddened. “I do believe you. So do the other members of our group. My job was to try to get you to do something to reveal your uh … talents .”
Will understood and immediately cooled down. He had to be more careful. They’d almost succeeded in getting him to reveal himself.
“I’m an experienced interrogator,” Fordham continued, “but it was unpleasant pissing you off like that – you having gone through so much. I feel ashamed.” He reached an open hand across the table.
Will shook his hand and said, “You did a good job.”
A door opened and two men and a woman entered. Will recognized two of them: the leader of his relocation case, Terrence Bolden, and the man who had snapped him during the surveillance exercise, Roy, who winked and nodded to him. He didn’t recognize the woman.
They all took chairs around the table and introduced themselves. Bolden was the youngest of the group, early thirties, tall, short brown hair, and wore small wire-framed glasses. He handed a sealed envelope to Will and flopped a large leather pouch on the table, making a sound like that of a big purse with keys concealed somewhere in its bowels.
Bolden started, directing his message to the whole group, “The people in this room, and one or two FBI contacts in your relocation area, are the only ones who will know your whereabouts. These are the only people you can trust.”
Will didn’t trust any of them.
Bolden handed him some documents. “Your cover name is William Tasker, and you’ll live in Baton Rouge, Louisiana for at least six months.”
“Baton Rouge?” Will asked, surprised.
“There’s some activity there,” Bolden explained. “We were going to wait on this, but after what happened last night with the Israeli, we want you out of Chicago as soon as possible. It should work well since you’re familiar with the place.”
Will nodded. He’d left Baton Rouge over a decade ago, but it was where he’d attended graduate school.
Bolden handed him a Social Security card, a Louisiana driver’s license, two credit cards, a mobile phone, a laptop computer, and a ring of keys. “A car is registered under your alias. The keys are for your new apartment. Nice place.”
Will looked at the pile of stuff in front of him. His stomach seemed to close in on itself. “When do I leave?” he asked.
“Collect your things tonight and head out early tomorrow morning,” Bolden replied as he handed Will the phone. “This has excellent security features, and it’s the only phone you should use. Don’t answer blocked calls or calls from unknown numbers.” Bolden raised an eyebrow. “If you’re going to continue to communicate with Ms. Walker, she needs to use a burner phone.”
Will nodded. He knew she was savvy about such things.
“If we need to contact you,” Bolden continued, “we’ll first send a text message with the code 523 .”
Will flinched at the number.
“We thought you’d remember it,” Bolden said.
It had been Will’s inmate number at the Red Box.
14
Friday, 8 May (8:38 a.m. EST – Washington)
Daniel listened intently. Horace’s voice was commanding for his age, and his face projected calmness even though his eyes seemed to show something else.
“This story starts with the early quest for Terra Australis Incognita, known now as Antarctica , of course,” Horace explained. “James Cook, better known as the famous Captain Cook of the storybooks, crossed the Antarctic Circle in the late 1700’s, but never found his way to the Antarctic mainland.” He stopped and addressed Daniel. “Undoubtedly your early research on Operation Tabarin has taken you to Cook’s voyages.”
Daniel shook his head. “Not yet.”
“It will, eventually,”
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