Read Online Exposed - A Thriller Novella (Chandler Series) by J.A. Konrath & Ann Voss Peterson by J.A. Konrath - Free Book Online

assignment completed successfully. Soon I would be on my
way back to Chicago or on a plane bound for who-the-hell-knew. My
thoughts would be on other things, my focus riveted to threats from
other quarters. I would file this experience into its compartment
in the back of my mind and go on with my life.
    The cell phone buzzed against my hip.
    I answered.
    “I need to speak to Ursula,” Jacob’s
electronic voice said.
    The code signified urgency, and I could feel
a dose of adrenaline surge into my bloodstream.
    “I’m afraid she has already left for the
hospital.”
    “You’ve met with the contact?”
    “He just took Julie.” I peered at the cars
flooding around Columbus Circle and up Broadway.
    “Damn. He’s early.”
    “What is it?”
    “You were right to have me check him,
Chandler. He’s not Morrissey.”
    Oh, shit.
    “What do you mean?” I knew the suspicion was
originally mine, but Jacob’s words carried a shock wave anyway.
    “Morrissey’s body was found—or at least part
of it was—a week ago in New Jersey. He was mutilated, no face, no
hands, so we didn’t identify him right away.”
    “But you’re sure it’s him?”
    “Yes.”
    I didn’t ask how or when. Worrying about that
was someone else’s job. “So this guy, who is he?” I was already
walking, rimming Columbus Circle, waving my hand for a cab.
    Goddamn rush hour.
    “We have no idea. Can you describe him?”
    “I can do even better.”
    I forwarded the photo to Jacob, pleased that
being horny might have actually come in handy for once.
    “Hmm, he’s cute.” Odd thing for Jacob to say.
“I’ll run it through facial recognition software. Hold on.”
    I squinted into the distance, breaking into a
jog. The limo was still in sight—thank you bumper-to-bumper—but
getting further away. As I ran, I fished the business card out of
my knife holster.
    No name on the card. No phone number either.
Just a generic Hotmail address.
    I took another scan of the roundabout,
searching for a vacancy light in the flood of cabs. A green SUV
caught my attention. Rental plates. Five men inside. Not South
American, maybe of Middle Eastern origin. But it wasn’t the vehicle
or their ethnicity that caught me. It was the intensity behind
their eyes, the way they assessed the crowd … just the way I would
if I were searching for someone.
    Maybe I was being paranoid, but I doubted
it.
    Keeping my expression neutral, I glanced at
the cars beyond, not letting on I’d made them.
    “Got a match,” Jacob said after only thirty
seconds. Jonathan Kirk. Former special forces. He fell off our
radar about a year ago. Apparently he’s been operating without a
leash.”
    “Merc?” I eyed Broadway, but I’d lost the
car.
    “Yeah.” Jacob paused, but I could feel what
was coming next. “Most recently, he’s been doing wet work.”
     
    “ No matter how well you’ve prepared or how
thorough you are, sometimes you will make mistakes,” The Instructor
said. “The important thing is that you identify the mistake
immediately and take steps to salvage the mission. Stay aware, use
your brain, your handler, and anything around you to set the
operation right. If repair is impossible, cover up your involvement
and get out of there.”
     
    I ran, picking and dodging between people on
the sidewalk, the phone still pressed to my ear.
    “Was Morrissey part of the package?” I
asked.
    “Yes. Came with the deal.”
    A hum rose in my ears. I’d invested myself in
protecting Julie, not just because it was my assignment, but
because I’d started to care. The possibility that I might have been
set up from the beginning to deliver the girl to her death made me
grind my teeth.
    “Jacob? Are we being used here? Who’s the
VIP?”
    “You’re thinking Kirk was brought in on
purpose?”
    “It occurred to me.”
    “We don’t have any evidence that Kirk’s
working for the VIP. A third party could have intercepted Morrissey
before our agency was brought in.”
    Of