“Yes, sir.”
“You said Anspack's got a friend who works in security?”
The assistant glanced at his computer screen. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Leonid Chernukhin, senior operative at Spartan Guardian Services.”
“He's covered?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pull ‘em off, right now-and get him on the phone for me.”
“Sir?”
“I said to phone this Leonid Whatsisname. If Beech can spot all our people, we'll use someone else. And if he won't touch anyone we have covered, we'll leave someone open.”
“Yes, sir,” the assistant said.
Leonid hung up the phone and gazed out the window as contemplatively as he was capable of.
So the feds wanted a hit. He could handle that.
He'd never done a hit before. He'd killed a couple of guys once who chose the wrong place to try to rob, and he'd put some others in the hospital, but he'd never deliberately set out to kill anyone before, let alone someone he knew.
He didn't know Beech well, but he'd met him the other night-and that made it easier, actually, because Leonid didn't like Beech much. Beech was a snotty little wimp, thought he was smart. He'd be no loss to the world.
And the son of a bitch had been screwing Mirim, if the fed's hints meant anything; that made it personal-and a lot more fun, too.
Beech had been imprinted with some sort of combat file, the man said-but Leonid grinned.
Beech was a wimp. Combat imprint or not, he was still a wimp.
This was going to be fun.
“Anyone there?” Cecelia asked testily.
Casper hesitated.
“I don't think so,” he said.
He'd driven the stolen car around the block twice now, and hadn't seen anyone suspicious-but it didn't look right, somehow, and he wasn't sure whether the stupid unpredictable imprint was working properly.
But he couldn't see anyone, and where else were they going to go? No respectable hotel would take them unless they used their charge cards, and even if the cards had still been good-which they weren't, as they knew from the last ATM they'd hit-they'd have been like waving a red flag for the government to see.
Besides, Cecelia was suspicious that something was going on between him and Mirim, he knew she was suspicious despite his innocent act, and if Mirim's lover was around maybe she'd realize there wasn't.
Not that Casper was sure he'd mind if there was something going on.
He pulled the car into the lot and turned off the ignition. “Come on,” he said.
No one shot at them as they left the car and entered the building; no one followed them, or came anywhere near them. Some kids were playing a game a block or so down the sidewalk, and a woman was walking a dog, but that was all. It was almost 4:00; rush hour had started back in Center City and would be reaching this neighborhood soon, but right now everything was quiet.
Casper still didn't like it.
Mirim led the way and rang the bell, Casper and Cecelia hanging back. Casper could hear a TV going in one of the other apartments.
The door opened, and Casper tensed, but it was only Leonid, in jeans and tank top.
“Hi,” he said. “What's up?”
His tone didn't sound right to Casper-and what was he doing home at this hour, anyway?
Well, security people didn't all work the day shift, Casper told himself, and he was probably just being paranoid.
“May we come in?” Mirim asked.
“Um… sure,” Leonid said, stepping aside.
Mirim turned and beckoned to the others, and the three of them trooped into Leonid's apartment.
“What's going on?” Leonid asked, as he closed the door behind them. “Why aren't you guys at the office?” He looked from one to the other-but something made Casper think he was acting.
“Someone's trying to kill Casper,” Mirim said.
Leonid glanced quickly at Casper, then back at Mirim. “Who?” he asked.
That wasn't right, Casper thought; he should have said “What?” rather than “Who?”
“We don't know,” Mirim said.
Casper didn't contradict her, but he watched Leonid's expression closely. He thought he saw Leonid's lips twitch slightly, as if he were thinking, “Yeah, sure you don't.”
Paranoia, he told himself. Yes, someone was after him, but that didn't mean everyone was.
But something was clicking away in his head. Leonid worked in security, he was known to be acquainted with Mirim, the feds knew Mirim was with Casper.
“Tell me about it,” Leonid said.
“Two men broke down his apartment door,” Mirim said. “He managed to get away out a window, and came back to Center City to talk to Celia and me, and when we were on our way to lunch two more men came after us with guns.”
Leonid turned to Casper. “Men with guns?”
Casper nodded.
“You don't know who they were?”
Casper shook his head. “Not for sure,” he said. “I think it has something to do with the imprint I got from NeuroTalents last week, though. For Data Tracers.”
“Shit. Any chance they followed you here?”
Casper shook his head.
“No,” he said.
“You seem pretty definite about that.”
Casper shrugged. “I'm sure,” he said.
“So why'd you come here?”
“They were watching Celia's apartment and office.”
“So you came to me for help?”
“Well, if there's anything you can do…” Mirim said.
Leonid considered.
Mirim thought he was thinking over Casper's situation, but what he was actually thinking about was whether he should take out Mirim, too, and say it was an accident. The bitch was lying-the Covert contact had said she was at Beech's apartment, not in Center City with her roommate. She was lying because she'd been fucking Beech. And she hadn't mentioned that Beech actually managed to kill two of his pursuers-Covert had told him that.
If she was lying for Beech like this, she was never going to be any good to him, to Leonid, again. And she'd be a witness, a witness with a grudge.
The other woman would be a witness, too, but that was no big deal-she was a lawyer, Covert could get her to stay quiet. Lawyers could be bought or intimidated.
Besides, she looked nervous. She'd probably be glad to be rid of Beech, to not be mixed up with him any more.
The first bullet for Beech, then, but the second for Mirim.
“You know, I have access to a lot of information on criminals,” he said. “Part of my work, y'know-I'm on the closed law enforcement nets, got access to all the secure sites. Maybe I could find out something about this. You three wait here.”
He turned, and ambled down the passageway into the bedroom, and the instant he was sure he was out of sight he headed directly to the drawer where he kept his. 357.
In the living room Casper watched Leonid go, and then, without consciously thinking about it, moved swiftly across the room and took up a position beside the entrance to the little corridor, his back to the wall. He drew the Browning and checked the magazine.
Nine rounds left.
He rammed the clip back into place, chambered a round…?
“Casper, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Celia asked. She had her hands on her hips, and was glaring at him.
He held a finger to his lips. Then he pointed toward the front window.
Cecelia blinked, and turned to see what he was pointing at.
“I don't…” she began.
He said, “Shhh!” and pointed again, more urgently.
As Leonid came down the passage, his revolver in the hand behind his back, he noticed both women staring toward the far end of the room.
That must be where Beech was, down by the window.
He stepped out into the living room and started to bring the pistol around…?
And Casper stepped up right beside him, the Browning ready in his hand, catching Leonid totally off-guard. Casper pointed the weapon at Leonid's chest.
“Drop the gun,” Casper said.
Leonid could see that the safety was off on Beech's 9mm, that Casper's hand was steady, his finger tightening on the trigger.