“It’s all about life’s little joys, I suppose.”
“Mmm.” Bishop smiled. “And I appreciate you allowing me mine.”
Jarvis scanned the street before motioning for Bishop to precede him across the sidewalk. “Just don’t tell the director, sir. He’ll have my head and my gun if he ever hears how often we let you sneak away.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Agent Jarvis.” When the agent opened the car door, Bishop added, “All your secrets.”
Jarvis froze for a fraction too long. A small, delicious tell.
Bishop was good at gathering around him the people best suited to serve him.
Despite having a loving wife and three school-age kids, Richard Jarvis hired sex workers from D.C. all the way to Bangkok. The man was an addict. And his predilections meant he knew not to ask too many questions about the private lives of others.
It also meant he was easily persuaded to look the other way when Bishop asked him to.
Once inside the sedan, the younger agent turned from the driver’s seat. “The flight back to D.C. leaves in two hours, sir. Should we head to the airport?”
“This little café was my last stop,” Bishop assured him. “It’s back to the land of the free and the home of the brave, boys.”
“Was the trip a success, sir?”
John Snyder was fresh-faced and earnest enough to make Bishop feel every one of his quickly advancing years. Snyder was also still green enough to take his cues from Jarvis without question.
“The king has agreed to continue dedicating Sweden’s time and resources to our joint UN peacekeeping missions,” Bishop said. “Madam President will be pleased.”
Not that the Swedish king’s opinion meant much in parliament. His role was ceremonial, but their meetup was perfect for a glossy photo op.
“Very good, sir.” Snyder slid on his seat belt once Jarvis folded himself into the passenger seat.
Bishop’s gaze drifted across the sidewalk. Through the fogged windowpane of the little café, he caught a glimpse of her silhouette…
Vivian Drake.
The infamous Black Widow.
She looked so peaceful sitting there with her head tilted toward her chest. To the casual observer, she appeared to be resting or scrolling on her phone.
Someone would discover the truth in a few hours, of course. And there would be questions.
What could cause the death of such a young, vibrant woman? Why was she packing heat in a country with restrictive gun laws? Who was she really?
By then, though, the poison would be out of her system. The autopsy would simply show her heart had stopped. And her death would be one of those mysteries put on a shelf and quickly forgotten.
One problem down, he thought with a secretive little scowl. One to go.
If the Black Knights thought they were hunting him, they’d soon learn that wolves fare poorly against a man determined to set the forest on fire.
