Read Online Sigma Curse - 04 by Tim Stevens - Free Book Online Page A

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go talk out in the car.”
    *
    “T hey’re hiding something,” said Venn.
    They sat in Teller’s Lexus in the parking lot. Teller hadn’t started the engine yet, and the raw cold outside was beginning to seep into the vehicle’s interior.
    Teller said, “Yeah. I got that, too. You think they followed Fincher? Or that maybe he told them where he was going, and they’re lying because they feel guilty now that they didn’t go find him sooner?”
    Venn gazed through the windshield, where dribbles of sleet were forming on the glass. The heavy snow wasn’t far off, he thought. Maybe a day or two away. A week, tops.
    “I don’t think so,” he murmured. “My gut tells me they’re telling the truth about what happened in the bar, and subsequently. They were more relaxed when they were talking about that. But you notice how uncomfortable they got whenever we asked a question about Fincher himself? About his personality, his relationships?”
    “Mmm.” Teller frowned, considering. “What does it mean?”
    “I need to talk to them again. That’s why I told them we were done with them. To lull them into dropping their guard. If I show up again unexpectedly, it’ll rattle them.”
    “You’re talking about ‘I’,” said Teller. “Don’t you mean ‘we’ ?”
    Venn shook his head. “No offense, Mort. I don’t doubt your skills. But you’re not military. I am. It’ll be more effective if I go one on one with them, one soldier to another. It’s psychology, once again. They’ll be scared of me and respect me at the same time.”
    To Venn’s surprise, Teller hesitated for only the briefest second before he said: “Okay.” He peered at Venn curiously. “What do you have in mind?”
    Venn told him.

Chapter 8
    V enn sat behind the wheel of the Jeep and waited, hoping he hadn’t misjudged the timing.
    It was six p.m., and darkness had fallen almost two hours earlier. The sleet had continued throughout the day, always threatening to thicken but never quite doing so. Overhead, the cloud cover was thin, not the pregnant bulge of incipient snow.
    A couple of days yet, at least , he thought.
    He watched the gates swing open again and two cars pull out into the glare of the arc lights before turning onto the road and passing him by.
    Neither was the one he wanted.
    Venn had carried out more stakeouts in his career than he could recall. Ordinarily, this would have been a straightforward one. But it was different this time. Staking out the entrance to a military base was problematic. A car parked outside for any length of time would arouse suspicion before very long.
    Which was why he hadn’t arrived early, drawing up instead at just five minutes to eight. Even so, he expected to have to wait a while, and every minute he sat there increased the chances that the closed-circuit cameras he knew were covering the gate would flag him up as a potential threat, a terrorist or a spy or something. If he got busted, he’d be able to get out of the situation without too much difficulty. But it would take a long time, perhaps hours, and he’d lose his advantage.
    On the drive back to Manhattan, he and Teller had worked out the details. Teller would use his FBI clout to obtain a detailed roster of the duties of the three corporals, Craddock, Austin and Nilssen. He’d do so on the quite plausible pretext of wanting to confirm that the three men had in fact been on leave when they said they were.
    Teller said, “No problem,” and put a call through to the office on the East River. When a female voice answered, he said: “Meredith. It’s Mort. I need you to do something for me.”
    He told her to call Colonel Masterson and ask for the rosters. If the colonel stonewalled her, she was to call Teller. Venn didn’t think Masterson would have any problem with the request. He’d given the impression of a man eager to cooperate, and to be seen to cooperate. After all, one of the men under his