Read Online Last Man Standing by David Baldacci - Free Book Online
Authors: David Baldacci
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youthful-looking
and her smile was truly beautiful.
Ann rose from her desk and gave Web a much-needed hug. Her cheeks were wet from tears. She had been especially close to the
members of Charlie Team, who took great pains to show her their affection for all she did for them.
“You don’t look good, Web.”
“I’ve had better days.”
“I wouldn’t wish this on anybody, not even my worst enemy,” she said, “but you’re the last person in the world this should
have happened to, Web. Right now, all I want to do is scream and never stop.”
“I appreciate that, Ann,” said Web. “I still don’t know what happened, really. I’ve never frozen like that before.”
“Web, honey, you’ve spent the last eight years of your life getting shot at. Don’t you think that adds up? You’re only human.”
“That’s just it, Ann, I’m supposed to be more than that. That’s why I’m at HRT.”
“What you need is a good long rest. When’s the last time you took a vacation? Do you even remember?”
“What I need is some information and I need you to help me get it.”
Ann accepted this change in subject without comment. “I’ll do what I can, you know that.”
“An undercover named Randall Cove. He’s MIA.”
“That name sounds familiar. I think I knew a Cove when I worked at WFO. You say he’s gone missing?”
“He was the inside guy on the HRT hit. Guess he was either in on it or else got his cover blown. I need whatever you can find
on him. Addresses, aliases, known contacts, the works.”
“If he was working in D.C., his home won’t be around there,” said Ann. “There’s an unofficial twenty-five-mile rule for UCs.
You don’t want to run into one of your neighbors while you’re working your shift. For big-time assignments they might even
bring the agent in from another part of the country.”
“Understood. But twenty-five miles out still leaves a lot of possibilities. Maybe we can get a record of phone logs, communications
with WFO, that sort of thing. I don’t know how you manage it, but I really need whatever you can get.”
“UCs mostly use disposable phone cards with low amounts on them to call in with. Buy them at convenience stores, use them
up, chuck them and buy another. No record of anything that way.”
Web’s hopes dimmed. “So there’s no way to trace?” He had never had to track down an undercover agent before.
Ann smiled her beautiful smile. “Oh, Web, there’s always a way. You just let me dig around a little.”
He looked at his hands. “I’m feeling kind of like a guy at the Alamo that the Mexicans somehow missed.”
Ann nodded in understanding. “There’s some fresh coffee in the kitchen and a chocolate walnut cake I brought in. Go help yourself,
Web, you’ve always been too skinny.” Her next words made Web look up into that wonderfully reassuring face. “And I’m watching
your back here, honey, don’t think that I’m not. I know what’s what, Web. I hear everything, uptown or down. And nobody, and
I mean nobody, is going to pull anything on you while I’m sitting here.”
As he walked out, Web wondered if Ann Lyle would ever consider adopting him.
Web found an empty computer terminal and logged on to HRT’s database. It had occurred to him, as he was sure it had to others,
that his team’s annihilation might have been a simple case of revenge. He spent considerable time going through past cases
where HRT had been called up. Memories came flooding back to him of chest-thudding victories and heart-wrenching failures.
The problem was that if you added up all the people who had been affected by an HRT mission and factored in family and friends,
along with fringe crazies chasing any cause they could get their demented hands around, the numbers ran into the thousands.
Web would have to leave that to somebody else to run down. He was certain the Bureau computers were crunching that data right
now.
Web passed
and her smile was truly beautiful.
Ann rose from her desk and gave Web a much-needed hug. Her cheeks were wet from tears. She had been especially close to the
members of Charlie Team, who took great pains to show her their affection for all she did for them.
“You don’t look good, Web.”
“I’ve had better days.”
“I wouldn’t wish this on anybody, not even my worst enemy,” she said, “but you’re the last person in the world this should
have happened to, Web. Right now, all I want to do is scream and never stop.”
“I appreciate that, Ann,” said Web. “I still don’t know what happened, really. I’ve never frozen like that before.”
“Web, honey, you’ve spent the last eight years of your life getting shot at. Don’t you think that adds up? You’re only human.”
“That’s just it, Ann, I’m supposed to be more than that. That’s why I’m at HRT.”
“What you need is a good long rest. When’s the last time you took a vacation? Do you even remember?”
“What I need is some information and I need you to help me get it.”
Ann accepted this change in subject without comment. “I’ll do what I can, you know that.”
“An undercover named Randall Cove. He’s MIA.”
“That name sounds familiar. I think I knew a Cove when I worked at WFO. You say he’s gone missing?”
“He was the inside guy on the HRT hit. Guess he was either in on it or else got his cover blown. I need whatever you can find
on him. Addresses, aliases, known contacts, the works.”
“If he was working in D.C., his home won’t be around there,” said Ann. “There’s an unofficial twenty-five-mile rule for UCs.
You don’t want to run into one of your neighbors while you’re working your shift. For big-time assignments they might even
bring the agent in from another part of the country.”
“Understood. But twenty-five miles out still leaves a lot of possibilities. Maybe we can get a record of phone logs, communications
with WFO, that sort of thing. I don’t know how you manage it, but I really need whatever you can get.”
“UCs mostly use disposable phone cards with low amounts on them to call in with. Buy them at convenience stores, use them
up, chuck them and buy another. No record of anything that way.”
Web’s hopes dimmed. “So there’s no way to trace?” He had never had to track down an undercover agent before.
Ann smiled her beautiful smile. “Oh, Web, there’s always a way. You just let me dig around a little.”
He looked at his hands. “I’m feeling kind of like a guy at the Alamo that the Mexicans somehow missed.”
Ann nodded in understanding. “There’s some fresh coffee in the kitchen and a chocolate walnut cake I brought in. Go help yourself,
Web, you’ve always been too skinny.” Her next words made Web look up into that wonderfully reassuring face. “And I’m watching
your back here, honey, don’t think that I’m not. I know what’s what, Web. I hear everything, uptown or down. And nobody, and
I mean nobody, is going to pull anything on you while I’m sitting here.”
As he walked out, Web wondered if Ann Lyle would ever consider adopting him.
Web found an empty computer terminal and logged on to HRT’s database. It had occurred to him, as he was sure it had to others,
that his team’s annihilation might have been a simple case of revenge. He spent considerable time going through past cases
where HRT had been called up. Memories came flooding back to him of chest-thudding victories and heart-wrenching failures.
The problem was that if you added up all the people who had been affected by an HRT mission and factored in family and friends,
along with fringe crazies chasing any cause they could get their demented hands around, the numbers ran into the thousands.
Web would have to leave that to somebody else to run down. He was certain the Bureau computers were crunching that data right
now.
Web passed