The Milestone Protocol Ernest Dempsey (best short novels of all time .txt) 📖

it’s why my agents carry guns. Sean, Joe and Helen McElroy, and all the others do the same.”

“Even in countries where firearms are not permitted?” She asked the question already knowing the answer.

Tommy didn’t dodge the trap. He kicked it over. “Absolutely. There are criminals out there with guns, Agent Strong. People who would kill me or my agents without a second thought. We defend ourselves. That’s it. And most of the time, you would never know we’re armed.”

“Except when you get in a shootout in a public place.”

Magnus cut in again. “Agent Strong, are you going to arrest my friend?” he motioned to Tommy with a wave of his hand. “Or are you working on the case you brought up initially? Tommy has done nothing wrong. And I find it in poor taste that you would bring up subjects that are irrelevant to the case.”

Her eyes didn’t wander from Tommy this time. “No,” she said reluctantly. “I’m not here to arrest him. And I don’t think he had anything to do with what happened in Russia. The risks you and your people run by carrying firearms around the world is on you. As long as there is no collateral damage, I personally don’t care. I have bigger fish to fry. I’m here to find out all I can about Kevin Clark and his operation.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said, sincerely.

“So, tell me, do you know of anyone who might have something against Dr. Clark?”

Tommy pressed his lips together and considered the question. He bobbed his head from side to side. “Yeah, I mean, probably a few dozen people in the historical community. He doesn’t really do a good job of keeping his thoughts or emotions to himself.”

“Self-righteous type. I know. I’ve seen his social media accounts. It seems he loves to attack pretty much everyone who does anything differently than him.”

“That’s definitely correct,” Magnus agreed.

Tommy was more diplomatic. “Kevin has his way of doing things, and he’s passionate about it. Maybe it comes off as self-righteous, but he’s entitled to his opinion. He’s earned it. The guy has a doctoral degree. He worked hard to get where he is.”

“Sounds like you’re almost defending him,” Tabitha hedged.

“Maybe. Look, I’m not going to say I want to go out for beers with the guy, or take him to a Braves game. We all have our own way of doing our jobs. Same goes for you or Dr. Sorenson here.” Tommy indicated the man with a tip of the head. “Whether I like Kevin or not is irrelevant. He’s a brilliant archaeologist, and he sticks to his ethics.”

Tabitha assessed him for several seconds, eyeing him as she might a used-car salesman. “That’s very objective of you.”

“I guess,” Tommy said with a roll of the shoulders. “I’d want people to treat me that way.”

“Yes,” Magnus said, trying to lighten the conversation. “The golden rule is something I think the world could use a little more of.”

Tommy felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and checked the screen.

“I’m sorry to take up so much of your time, Mr. Schultz,” Tabitha said. “I know you’re busy. But I do have one last question.”

Tommy took his eyes away from the device and met her gaze. “It’s no problem. What?”

“Do you have any idea where Dr. Clark may have gone? If he wasn’t abducted, I mean. If he weren’t involved in the attack on his site, it would stand to reason he’s been taken and is being held against his will. For what, I don’t know.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s being held against his will,” Tommy said with a fiendish smirk.

“What do you mean? There something you not telling me?” She put her hands on her hips and kicked one out to the side as only a demanding woman can.

Tommy had never seen a man use a gesture like that to such effect. He doubted he ever would. “I know where Kevin is, Agent Strong.”

Her expression changed to one of confused surprise. “What? Where is he?”

“He’s with my best operative.”

11

Atlanta

Desmond sprinted as fast as his seventh-grade legs could carry him. The breeze felt good on his face in the chilly December air. Had he been walking, his entire body might have felt the cold wrapping around him, but while running he was almost hot in the overcoat and beanie.

The overcast skies loomed overhead with thick, gray clouds seeming to hover permanently over the subdivisions of North Atlanta. Desmond knew it wasn’t going to snow, even though the forecast suggested the temperatures would be cold enough later that evening. These were the kinds of clouds he’d seen before, the kind that churn and roll through the sky but never release that white concoction kids his age loved to see on the ground and roads—especially the roads. If the roads were covered, that meant school would get cancelled.

Down south, even an inch of snow on the roads could result in cancellations, or at worst a later start time. Kids would often watch the forecast late into the night when there was a chance of frozen precipitation, but Desmond knew better. He didn’t let emotion or childish hopes get in the way of science, or his experience. Even at such a young age, he’d come to recognize the signs, and while these clouds might have looked like the kind that would dump several inches of fluffy snow onto the city, he could tell that wasn’t going to happen.

He turned the corner and jogged up the street, passing two more driveways until he reached Corin and Diego’s house. Desmond slowed when he arrived at their driveway. His breath spewed from his mouth in big clouds as he hiked up the concrete then veered to the right on the sidewalk leading to the front door.

Through the front windows he could see the lights on inside. He suspected Diego and Corin would be home. It was a Sunday morning, and his family usually had pancakes around this time, at