Gambit David Hagberg (most read books in the world of all time TXT) 📖

“I’d like that,” Perkins said, his tone not so light.

Susan broke the connection. “Your guy?”

“Could have been a coincidence,” Hammond said.

“But you doubt it.”

Hammond nodded.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay.”

“Where’s the boat?”

The boat was Glory, a 380-foot motor yacht built a few years ago by the Italian shipyard Codecasa in Tuscany. She wasn’t the largest vessel in the billionaires’ circuit, but she’d made the Atlantic crossing three times now with absolutely no trouble. And last year, she had transited the Panama Canal.

“Seattle. We’re having some work done on the engines.”

“Jesus.”

“I was thinking about spending a month or so on the inside passage up to Anchorage until it’s time to take her back across the pond. Something different.”

“The only ice I like is in my drink,” Susan said, but then another thought occurred to her, and her expression and attitude changed. “You’re not done.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“It doesn’t bother you that the second guy probably failed?”

“I’d hoped he would,” Hammond said. “I don’t want it to end so quickly. I want the bastard to hang out in the wind for a while.”

“Okay, so it’s still a game. But we know what McGarvey is capable of if he finds out who’s behind it. So it’s a dangerous game. And I’ll ask again: Where’s the profit in it, Tom? It has to be worth something to you.”

“It is. But for now, like you said, it’s still just a game.”

“Like the movie,” Susan said. But she had another thought. “Which is why you want to get out of Dodge. Alaska until the dust settles on this move.”

“I’ve never been up there. Have you?”

“You’ve already lost two shooters. How many more are you willing to lose?”

“In chess, it’s called a gambit. Sacrifice a piece or two for a shot at the ultimate prize.”

Susan shook her head in wonder. “You’re nuts, do you know that?”

“Yes, but I’m rich, so I can afford to be.”

Susan had a bellman bring up her bags, which she had parked in the lobby storage room, and when she had cleaned up and was dressed, she came out as Hammond was getting off the phone.

“Can’t get in touch with your Russian friend?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Hammond said. He’d opened a bottle of Krug, and he poured her a glass. “Do you have anything pressing in LA?”

“Nothing I can’t duck out of.”

“You’re tagging along with me.”

She took the champagne, drank it down, and offered her glass for a refill. “Wouldn’t miss it for all the world,” she said as he poured. “But it won’t be just us aboard, will it?”

“No, we’ll have a few friends up.”

She grinned. “You’re fun and all that, Tommy boy, but too much of the same thing can get boring. Maybe we can entice one of my exes to join us.”

“Why not all four of them, and their current wives?” Hammond said.

She raised her glass. “The alibi heard round the world.”

TWENTY

At Otto’s house in McLean, Mary was making them breakfast, and Otto was helping. He went out to the screened porch in back with coffee for McGarvey and Pete. “Mary’s Southern, so we’re having grits with our bacon and eggs.”

“I hope we’re having more than coffee to wash it down,” Pete said.

“I heard that,” Mary called.

“Mimosas,” Otto said, and he started back to the kitchen, but Lou’s voice materialized.

“We have a fingerprint match on the shooter,” she said.

“That was quick.”

“They were in our own database. His name was Donald Hicks, thirty-seven, never married, though he was never evaluated as gay. Until four years ago, he was a highly decorated sniper for Canadian Special Operations.”

“Then what?”

“He received an other-than-honorable discharge, and he dropped out of sight,” Lou said.

McGarvey had an idea. “Lou, I’d like you to do a data search, starting four years ago.”

“Of course, Mac.”

“Can you access the records of passenger arrivals at all three airports in Moscow?”

“For Donald Hicks?”

“Yes.”

“He may have traveled under false papers.”

“Let’s try Hicks first.”

Lou uncharacteristically hesitated for a beat. “I’m searching now. But if his name does not come up, I can access the National Security Agency’s facial recognition files.”

“Unless he traveled under disguise,” Otto said.

It almost sounded as if Lou laughed. “Of course, dear,” she said.

“Make the same search for the South African shooter.”

“Of course.”

“In the meantime, get me a flight to Ottawa sometime this afternoon,” McGarvey said. “And I need the name and private number of the current commander.”

“The current commander is Lieutenant Colonel Horace Vickery. Shall I make the call on your phone now?”

“Please do.”

“Who shall I say is calling, and the reason?”

“Tell him I’m calling and that I will explain,” McGarvey said.

Mary came from the kitchen but didn’t say a word. Neither did Otto or Pete.

By the time Mac had taken his phone out of his pocket and switched it to speaker mode, it was ringing. A man with a gruff voice answered.

“Mr. Director, your call comes as something of a surprise. How may I help, and with what?”

“One of your former operators, who was discharged four years ago, tried to kill me last night, and I’m trying to find out why.”

“Sergeant Hicks,” Vickery said.

“I’d like to fly up to talk to you and to anyone who knew him personally.”

“Has he been taken into custody?”

“We had a gun battle, and he lost,” McGarvey said.

“I see,” Colonel Vickery said. “If you can snag a ride on a government or military aircraft, I can get you clearance to land on base.”

“Mr. McGarvey will be arriving in a Navy Gulfstream C-20G,” Lou broke in. “Direct from Andrews.” She gave the tail number.

“I’ll alert tower ops,” Vickery said.

McGarvey hung up. “Anything on Hicks showing up in Moscow?”

“Nothing yet,” Lou said. “Your ride is being preflighted, and your crew will be in place by the time you get to Andrews.”

“Thank you.”

“No sweat,” Lou said.

“Do you want me to tag along?” Pete asked.

“Not necessary; I’ll be back by this afternoon. If you or Lou think of any other means to trace either of the shooters, keep on it. As soon as I get