Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (read out loud books txt) 📖

times, till we came to Central Park South. There we left the Jag in a parking garage and took a walk by the pond as far as the Gapstow Bridge. There, Bernie squinted at me and said, “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

I scanned the path around the water, then glanced at Dehan. “Did you see anything?”

She shook her head. “I think we’re OK.”

He frowned uneasily. “You’re getting a little paranoid in your old age. What the hell is going on?”

“Somebody tried to kill me last night, Bernie. They very nearly succeeded. It was a hit, and we have solid reasons to believe that it was ordered by Senator Hennessy.”

“Holy shit.” He sighed. “You’ve always been smart, Stone, but you’ve never been wise, have you?”

“I don’t want to get you involved, not yet anyway. The fewer people involved the better. But there is one thing you can help me with.”

“Of course, anything.”

Dusk was already turning the air grainy and the cold blue sky was touched with burnished light from the dying sun. The ducks on the pond squawked and made wet flapping sounds and the birds in the trees fluttered sporadically, like they were closing up for the evening. While Dehan kept a watch over the quiet scene, I explained to Bernie everything that had happened, and everything we had learned so far. Dehan clapped her hands and stamped her feet, moving this way and that, and Bernie listened with a deepening frown.

When I’d finished, he puffed out his cheeks and blew a big cloud of condensation that drifted away like cigar smoke.

“We’ve been after her, and her husband, for a long time. But they have their operation stitched up tighter than a nun’s chastity belt. If what you say is true…”

“We may yet free the nun. What I need is a lead on this hired gun, Bernie, whoever he is. I need to know if he actually exists, and if he does, is there anyone on your wanted lists who might fit the profile.”

He pulled a sheet of paper from his inside pocket. “I brought this.” He opened it and handed it to me. “These were the hired killers that we were aware of in the period you mentioned. Since the ’90s, hired assassins have been increasingly affiliated with terrorist groups. During the cold war and the ’80s you had a number of pros out there who were ex-military, or trained by one of the secret services, and they were strictly mercenaries, guns for hire.”

Dehan said, “Like the famous Jackal who tried to take out De Gaul.”

He nodded. “Yeah, exactly. But these days you really don’t get that so much. The market for that kind of hit man is much smaller than it was, and not so lucrative. What you have now is jihadists, or in-house operatives working for the Russian Mafia or the Mob.”

I shrugged with my right shoulder. “So that means our list of possibles is small.”

“Yeah, pretty small. Active between the turn of the century and 2008, that we were aware of, and that the CIA shared with us, were Sean Hagan, trained by the IRA back in the day. When the IRA called the ceasefire, he put himself on the market as a hired gun. He worked for the Russians, did a few jobs for the Mob, retired about 2008.

“Then there was Saul David. We’re not sure if that’s his real name. He was trained by MOSAD, though they later disowned him. Like Hagan, he worked for the Russians and organized crime generally. As far as we know he is still active. Our intel is that he was operating mainly in Europe from 2000 to 2010.

“Then there is Adrian Philips, British subject, trained by the SAS but dishonorably discharged for torturing a prisoner. Known to have right-wing political views. Believed to be responsible for taking out several Mullahs and terrorist cells, not clear on whose orders, possibly CIA black ops. He was active in the States during the period you’re interested in.”

Dehan said, “Sounds like he could be our man.”

Bernie smiled. “Only problem is he could not have been talking to David Thorndike.”

I asked, “Why?”

“Because he was killed in a bomb blast in Pakistan in late October, 2007.” He pointed at the last name on the list. “And finally you have Hector Hernandez. No formal training, just a love of his work. Free-lances for the Cartels when they need a quiet job done, and has been employed by the mob for some jobs.”

I sighed. “None of them leaps out me. Did any of them have a special MO, a preferred method…?”

He shrugged and pushed out his bottom lip. “Hernandez liked the knife. Most of his kills were stabbings. Hagan tended to shoot his victims. He was a good marksman. Saul David and Philips were the real pros. They would use whatever method was to hand and most times they would make it look like an accident.”

I nodded and looked at Dehan. She said, “That’s our man. Saul David.”

I scratched my head. “Only David is still active, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, and Philips is dead.”

Bernie studied my face a moment. “Why doesn’t it make sense that he’s still active?”

I gazed at the pond. “In the anonymous letter, it said that he had decided to tell Thorndike about the killing for reasons that were not clear to the person writing the letter. I always assumed that he had retired and was trying to clear his conscience in some way.”

Bernie didn’t look convinced. “If that was true, Stone, wouldn’t he just come forward and inform the Bureau?”

“What other reason could he have?”

Dehan said, “Money? Maybe Dave offered him a cut of the proceeds.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it could be that. Or it could be political. If he was radical