Read Online Hitman: Enemy Within by William C. Dietz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: William C. Dietz
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Action, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction And Fantasy, Science Fiction - Adventure
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could return. After what seemed like endless minutes, the cord came off, and she reached up to remove the pillowcase. Once she could see, it was relatively easy to remove the line wound around her ankles. Finally, just as it seemed as if her heart were going to beat its way out through her chest, Marla’s feet were free. She stood, got rid of the gag, and made for the door. The externally mounted slide-style bolt made a welcome snicking sound as it slid home.
The lock wouldn’t be enough to keep a really determined assailant out, but it would buy some additional time, and that’s all the Puissance Treize agent needed as she turned back into the room. The Walther was still there, lying on the floor, and never had the weapon’s weight felt more welcome than when she lifted the pistol and pointed it at the door. Holding the semiauto with both hands, Marla waited for the assassin to return. Was the safety on or off? She should have checked but hadn’t. A sure sign of how shaken she was, but an easy mistake to correct.
That was when she smelled smoke, heard her ceiling-mounted fire alarm go off, and saw flames in the kitchen. The fire immediately began to lick at the drapes before spreading across the ceiling, and there was barely enough time for her to slip into the raincoat, grab her purse off the floor, and exit the houseboat—gun in hand—as the flames continued to spread.
Marla had no desire to stay and explain everything to the authorities, so all she could do was shove the Walther into a pocket as she ran toward shore. Her bare feet made a slapping sound as they hit wet wood, and some of her neighbors emerged to shout instructions at one another as Marla entered the parking lot. Sirens could be heard as she fumbled for the remote and took refuge in the Mercedes. Not knowing where 47 was, nor when he would return, she started the car and sped away. He might be following, but she would have to take that chance. She really had no alternative. Her mind raced. The Agency knew where she was. That much was obvious, as was the fact that they were out to identify any of their employees who had leaked information to the Puissance Treize and put a stop to it. So, would they continue to come after her?
Yes, they almost certainly would. Except that the next attempt might be made by a specially equipped interrogation team that would use psychology, environmental conditioning, and drugs to break her. That raised the obvious and most pressing question of what to do next. Would Kaberov provide support? Or punish her for incompetence? There was no way to be sure. But the odds weren’t very good. Suddenly—through no fault of her own—Cassandra Murphy, aka MarlaNorton, was on the run. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, Agent 47 may have just flushed his prey.
PATRAS,GREECE
Though technically classified as a yacht, the 250-foot-long Jean Danjou had originally been designed to serve as a salvage tug, which was why she had none of the sleek grace that the other megayachts possessed as they lay at anchor on the sparkling waters of Patras.
But then, unlike her peers, the Danjou was expected to work for a living.Which was why she carried two armored SUVs, four BMW motorcycles, two snowmobiles, six personal watercraft, a four-place helicopter, scuba gear, a decompression chamber, a bulletproof Mercedes S500, and two forty-foot gunboats. Not to mention a great deal of very sophisticated communications and tracking equipment intended to support Agency activities worldwide.
The heart of the ship, and the place where Diana spent most of her time, was the communications and control room located deep within the Danjou ’s armored hull. Her high-backed chair was located at the center of a U-shaped desk from which she could monitor twenty-four wall-mounted video screens, two side-by-side computer displays, and take satellite phone calls from all over the world. Diana had a high forehead and eyes that were a tiny bit smaller than
The lock wouldn’t be enough to keep a really determined assailant out, but it would buy some additional time, and that’s all the Puissance Treize agent needed as she turned back into the room. The Walther was still there, lying on the floor, and never had the weapon’s weight felt more welcome than when she lifted the pistol and pointed it at the door. Holding the semiauto with both hands, Marla waited for the assassin to return. Was the safety on or off? She should have checked but hadn’t. A sure sign of how shaken she was, but an easy mistake to correct.
That was when she smelled smoke, heard her ceiling-mounted fire alarm go off, and saw flames in the kitchen. The fire immediately began to lick at the drapes before spreading across the ceiling, and there was barely enough time for her to slip into the raincoat, grab her purse off the floor, and exit the houseboat—gun in hand—as the flames continued to spread.
Marla had no desire to stay and explain everything to the authorities, so all she could do was shove the Walther into a pocket as she ran toward shore. Her bare feet made a slapping sound as they hit wet wood, and some of her neighbors emerged to shout instructions at one another as Marla entered the parking lot. Sirens could be heard as she fumbled for the remote and took refuge in the Mercedes. Not knowing where 47 was, nor when he would return, she started the car and sped away. He might be following, but she would have to take that chance. She really had no alternative. Her mind raced. The Agency knew where she was. That much was obvious, as was the fact that they were out to identify any of their employees who had leaked information to the Puissance Treize and put a stop to it. So, would they continue to come after her?
Yes, they almost certainly would. Except that the next attempt might be made by a specially equipped interrogation team that would use psychology, environmental conditioning, and drugs to break her. That raised the obvious and most pressing question of what to do next. Would Kaberov provide support? Or punish her for incompetence? There was no way to be sure. But the odds weren’t very good. Suddenly—through no fault of her own—Cassandra Murphy, aka MarlaNorton, was on the run. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, Agent 47 may have just flushed his prey.
PATRAS,GREECE
Though technically classified as a yacht, the 250-foot-long Jean Danjou had originally been designed to serve as a salvage tug, which was why she had none of the sleek grace that the other megayachts possessed as they lay at anchor on the sparkling waters of Patras.
But then, unlike her peers, the Danjou was expected to work for a living.Which was why she carried two armored SUVs, four BMW motorcycles, two snowmobiles, six personal watercraft, a four-place helicopter, scuba gear, a decompression chamber, a bulletproof Mercedes S500, and two forty-foot gunboats. Not to mention a great deal of very sophisticated communications and tracking equipment intended to support Agency activities worldwide.
The heart of the ship, and the place where Diana spent most of her time, was the communications and control room located deep within the Danjou ’s armored hull. Her high-backed chair was located at the center of a U-shaped desk from which she could monitor twenty-four wall-mounted video screens, two side-by-side computer displays, and take satellite phone calls from all over the world. Diana had a high forehead and eyes that were a tiny bit smaller than
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