bullet between her eyes. The man hurried past her to a stout, older man, who was sprawled beside the limo’s passenger door.
Ryder studied the corpse’s coarse features. With grim satisfaction, he nodded to himself. He had at least one answer—the dead man was the Padre, whom he recognized from the surveillance video Tucker had e-mailed. Thinking back, Ryder remembered the snipers had begun shooting only when the Padre had climbed out of the limo, and the Padre had been the first killed.
He focused again on the last man, who was sitting on his heels above the Padre. He held his Uzi in one hand while he fished through the Padre’s jacket pockets with the other. It looked to Ryder that he expected to find something important.
Standing up, Ryder fired a single round into the driveway beside the man. The noise was like a thunderclap in the winter hush.
The man jumped up and whirled around. He had a head shaped like an anvil, big and angular, as was the rest of his body.
“Put your weapon down!” Ryder shot a second bullet into the driveway. Brick chips sprayed, cutting the man’s cheeks. “Now!”
“Mierda!” Swearing in Spanish, he set down his Uzi. Standing erect again, his eyes widened, as if he recognized Ryder.
“You know me. Tell me what’s going on here,” Ryder said. When the man hesitated, Ryder fired a third round so close the bullet blew snow off the man’s boot.
The man’s words tumbled out. “You are Judd Ryder. The Padre made us memorize your face.” He gestured at the guards. “They were tracking you. I did not know you were here so soon.”
“How were they tracking me?” Ryder demanded.
“The Padre put a bug in the tracker you found in Eva Blake’s house. That way he could follow your progress here and interrogate you when you arrived.”
Ryder swore loudly. While he had been electronically dogging Eva, her kidnappers had been dogging him. And now Eva was dead. A bitter taste filled Ryder’s mouth. “Toss me your billfold.”
The man produced a canvas billfold from his back pocket. He flung it onto the drive.
Ryder scooped it up, opened it, and saw an international driver’s license in the name Tom á s Lara. “Okay, Tom á s. Is this about locating the Carnivore?”
“The Padre believed you or Eva Blake could say how to find him.”
“Was it the Padre who had me doubled?”
Lara gave a slow nod. “You have powerful friends. It was a problem that they might go looking for you, so the Padre found a way to cover for a while that you were missing. But then you arrived a day early from Baghdad. The Padre did not have everything ready to snatch you.” He gave Ryder an earnest look. “It is not necessary to shoot me. I will leave as soon as I fetch something from the Padre. It will be as if you and I never met.”
Ryder gestured at Eva and the teenaged girl. “Unarmed. Innocent. No reason to kill them unless someone’s afraid they’d identify you—or what you’re taking. You’re working for the snipers. Who are they?”
Sweat broke out on the man’s forehead. “Eli Eichel hired me. He partners with his brother, Danny. They were the shooters. Eli is retired Kidon.”
Ryder paused. He had expected the Carnivore to be the man’s employer. Kidon was Mossad’s highly regarded kill department, renowned for orchestrating successful wet jobs around the globe. And now a Kidon-trained assassin and his brother had killed six people and Eva so they could get their hands on something the Padre was carrying.
“Keep searching,” Ryder ordered.
Lara sat back down on his heels. He pulled a leather pouch from inside the Padre’s coat. Using his teeth, he loosened the drawstring and spilled three leather bags onto his palm. He opened them. Each contained a chunk of limestone.
Ryder frowned. “What are they?”
“Eli said they are special rocks. See, there are marks on them.” He turned one over.
Ryder recognized the symbols. Cuneiform writing. “How are you getting
Ryder studied the corpse’s coarse features. With grim satisfaction, he nodded to himself. He had at least one answer—the dead man was the Padre, whom he recognized from the surveillance video Tucker had e-mailed. Thinking back, Ryder remembered the snipers had begun shooting only when the Padre had climbed out of the limo, and the Padre had been the first killed.
He focused again on the last man, who was sitting on his heels above the Padre. He held his Uzi in one hand while he fished through the Padre’s jacket pockets with the other. It looked to Ryder that he expected to find something important.
Standing up, Ryder fired a single round into the driveway beside the man. The noise was like a thunderclap in the winter hush.
The man jumped up and whirled around. He had a head shaped like an anvil, big and angular, as was the rest of his body.
“Put your weapon down!” Ryder shot a second bullet into the driveway. Brick chips sprayed, cutting the man’s cheeks. “Now!”
“Mierda!” Swearing in Spanish, he set down his Uzi. Standing erect again, his eyes widened, as if he recognized Ryder.
“You know me. Tell me what’s going on here,” Ryder said. When the man hesitated, Ryder fired a third round so close the bullet blew snow off the man’s boot.
The man’s words tumbled out. “You are Judd Ryder. The Padre made us memorize your face.” He gestured at the guards. “They were tracking you. I did not know you were here so soon.”
“How were they tracking me?” Ryder demanded.
“The Padre put a bug in the tracker you found in Eva Blake’s house. That way he could follow your progress here and interrogate you when you arrived.”
Ryder swore loudly. While he had been electronically dogging Eva, her kidnappers had been dogging him. And now Eva was dead. A bitter taste filled Ryder’s mouth. “Toss me your billfold.”
The man produced a canvas billfold from his back pocket. He flung it onto the drive.
Ryder scooped it up, opened it, and saw an international driver’s license in the name Tom á s Lara. “Okay, Tom á s. Is this about locating the Carnivore?”
“The Padre believed you or Eva Blake could say how to find him.”
“Was it the Padre who had me doubled?”
Lara gave a slow nod. “You have powerful friends. It was a problem that they might go looking for you, so the Padre found a way to cover for a while that you were missing. But then you arrived a day early from Baghdad. The Padre did not have everything ready to snatch you.” He gave Ryder an earnest look. “It is not necessary to shoot me. I will leave as soon as I fetch something from the Padre. It will be as if you and I never met.”
Ryder gestured at Eva and the teenaged girl. “Unarmed. Innocent. No reason to kill them unless someone’s afraid they’d identify you—or what you’re taking. You’re working for the snipers. Who are they?”
Sweat broke out on the man’s forehead. “Eli Eichel hired me. He partners with his brother, Danny. They were the shooters. Eli is retired Kidon.”
Ryder paused. He had expected the Carnivore to be the man’s employer. Kidon was Mossad’s highly regarded kill department, renowned for orchestrating successful wet jobs around the globe. And now a Kidon-trained assassin and his brother had killed six people and Eva so they could get their hands on something the Padre was carrying.
“Keep searching,” Ryder ordered.
Lara sat back down on his heels. He pulled a leather pouch from inside the Padre’s coat. Using his teeth, he loosened the drawstring and spilled three leather bags onto his palm. He opened them. Each contained a chunk of limestone.
Ryder frowned. “What are they?”
“Eli said they are special rocks. See, there are marks on them.” He turned one over.
Ryder recognized the symbols. Cuneiform writing. “How are you getting
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