Z: Eleven of them eluded you? Bullshit. After two decades with AIVD? Doubtful. What aren’t you telling me?
The chatroom shuts down without warning, booting me off the server. Either I pissed off the one person who’s actuallytriedto keep me alive or someone was about to discover him aiding and abetting a known fugitive. I’ll likely never know.
My eyes ache, like my lids are made of pumice, and even my skin hurts. If I have lost him to my frustration, at least I have a place to start in the morning. The Boston National Bank. And a name. Tomorrow is all about recon around the area. If I can find a camera or two that captured Michael Lawrence’s face, I have a chance to find him. Then the real work begins.
Convincing him to come back from the dead and help me take the Strauss Cartel down.
Chapter Three
Ronan
Tapping my phone screen—yetagain—I stifle my groan. Ten minutes later than the last time I checked. I’ve been in this apartment a week and I still can’t get used to the quiet.
After my promotion, Trevor and Ford bothsuggestedI find a better place to live. Somewhere secure andnotleased under my real name. I laughed, but the looks they shot me? I got the message. Non-negotiable.
This building has a 24-hour security guard at the front door, cameras on every floor, and biometric locks. It’s also twice the size of the postage stamp studio I rented when I came to Boston three years ago. One of the perks of my promotion? A significant raise.
But with the soundproofed walls comes silence. White noise doesn’t help. Because underneath that? Still silence.
So I stare at the ceiling. Into near total darkness. I can’t get my target—a woman known only as Zephyr—out of my mind. Wren’s intel packet on her was only four pages long. Unheard of for Second Sight’s tech genius. She can put together a fifty-page file onanyone. Hell, when I was guarding Austin Pritchard’s girlfriend, Mikayla, she sent me info on Mik’s sixty-something boss that included hishigh school transcript. But Zephyr has managed to live her entire life without leaving more than crumbs of info anywhere.
“She’s a ghost, Ronan. Best guess? She’s between thirty and thirty-five, probably from somewhere in Europe, but heck if I can find out where. I can match her facial features to at least a dozen different passports over the last decade, every one of them with a different name. Whoever she is? She has mad skills.”
Mad skills is Wren’s highest compliment. If she’s stumped, how the hell amIsupposed to find this Zephyr? The only lead we have? An officer assigned to the murder investigation who told Dax he thinks the woman is in Boston tracking down her next victim. I have a call in to the guy, but he’s in Antwerp.
Punching the pillow, I roll onto my side. Something about this case isn’t right, but damn if I can figure out what it is.
* * *
By 4:00 a.m.,I’ve given up on the idea of sleep. One of the best parts about this building? The twenty-four-hour gym on the first floor. After I pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I grab my phone and lace up my running shoes. Ten minutes later,Great Big Seapounding out a punishing beat in my ears, I set the treadmill to a fast six miles per hour and start running.
My phone rings, interrupting the band’s cover ofIt’s The End of the World as We Know It.By the number on the screen, this is the call I’ve been waiting for. Jumping onto the treadmill’s sideboards, I jab the screen. “Ronan Murphy.”
“Mr. Murphy, this is Dante Lambert with the General Intelligence and Security Service in Antwerp. You require information about the assassin Zephyr?“
“Anythin’ you can tell me, yes. What we’ve been able to put together so far isn’t much.” The gym is empty this early in the morning, and I hope to hell it stays that way. This isn’t a conversation I want to have in public.
“She is highly skilled at evasion and stealth. From what we have learned over the past four years, she was a member of the Strauss Cartel for more than a decade. She may have amassed countless kills, but we are only concerned with one.”
“Jasper Yoden. I’m aware. Killed in São Paulo four years ago. If you can forward me the case file, it could help me understand her better.”
“Of course. We believe she was sent to Boston to kill a former member of the Strauss Cartel, one Martín Levi. He is believed to be hiding under an assumed name. Michael Lawrence. If you find this man, you will eventually find Zephyr.”
I press Dante for anything he can tell me about Martín Levi, but all he has is a name and a very old photo. But by the time we hang up, he’s sent me everything he has on Zephyr, and I’m one step closer to bringing my target to justice.
* * *
Zephyr
Dante wasn’t kidding about the rain. Even with a cheap, drugstore rain slicker, I’m soaked to the skin in less than ten minutes. First stop? ReUse and ReSell. Second-hand stores don’t bat an eye at cash transactions, and while I have a fresh batch of clean credit cards in my wallet, the more I use them, the faster I’ll burn them out.
Rain hat, rain coat, galoshes, and an umbrella. All for under thirty bucks.
If I wanted to, I could steal enough money to manufacture a new identity so airtight, François would never find me. But when I escaped the cartel, I vowed to make up for all the shit I did when I thought we were the good guys.
My side jobs—helping those in trouble—fund my basic needs. Others? Like the flight to Boston? I live in the gray area. My dream? To say I’m a good person and mean it. To go a month without lying tosomeone. Even if only to myself.
Boston National Bank stands tall and proud among all the other turn-of-the-century buildings in the South End. Two dozen different businesses make their home on this block, including a coffee shop. Perfect.
