Hunter: A Thriller by Robert James Bidinotto Read Free Book Online Page B

she leaned her face over his, and began to talk to him so quietly that Annie could no longer hear what she was saying. As she spoke, she patted his loose blond strands. Smoothed the lapel of his charcoal suit. Ran her palm down his tie.
    Annie had to turn away. Each of her friend’s tender gestures felt like the thrust of a knife.
    At last, Susie bent and kissed Arthur’s forehead. She straightened and hesitated, swaying slightly.
    “Susie dear, would you like to sit down, now?”
    Her cheeks were wet, her eyes dazed; she was beyond exhaustion. “Yes. Thanks. And maybe a little water.”
    They took seats in a line of chairs positioned not far from the casket. Annie fetched a paper cup of water from a cooler in the corner and found a box of tissues. The rest of the family members joined them, consoling each other quietly as they took their seats. After a while, the director entered, closing the door behind him, and approached.
    “Mrs. Copeland, many of your friends and family have already gathered outside. Just let me know when you feel ready to receive them.”
    “I’m ready. Ready as I can be.”
    He smiled gently. “He obviously was a beloved man. We haven’t had this many visitors here for a very long time.”
    He returned to open the door, and people began to file in slowly. They first approached the body to kneel and pray, then turned to the waiting family, most of whom stood to receive them. Annie stood beside Susie, who remained seated. The visitors, some in tears, leaned over to hug her and whisper the painfully trite things that people always struggle to say to those who have lost a loved one. Once past the receiving line, many stayed for a while, taking seats in the rows of padded folding chairs that filled the rest of the parlor.
    Annie was not surprised to recognize and greet a number of those filing past her: They were co-workers from Langley . Susie was a long-time European analyst in the Directorate of Intelligence, and Arthur had worked for the Agency on a consulting basis for over a dozen years. She was astonished, though, when the CIA director himself entered, flanked by several top Agency people, including Grant Garrett. Nobody had told her about this. But then again, they wouldn’t announce in advance the itinerary of such a group. She knew the two OS security officers flanking the door; many more would be outside, forming a protective cordon around the building and the armored limos.
    The intelligence chiefs paused as a group at the casket for a solemn moment, then made their way to Susie. Each of them hugged her and expressed sadness that Annie knew was heartfelt. When they reached her, they greeted her quietly and by name. Garrett, his face stony, nodded, said a terse hello, and gave her a brief hug before moving on. After they passed through the receiving line, they wandered among the seated guests, exchanging handshakes with some of those whom they recognized and—she had to smile to herself—pointedly ignoring others whose identities it would be unwise to acknowledge.
    Susie stared at them in wonder. “I never knew how many friends we had there.”
    Annie leaned close to her ear. “Whatever its faults, you can say this for Langley : It’s family.”
    Her eyes roamed the endless line still wending its way into the parlor. Then rested on a man framed in the doorway.
    He was not exceptionally tall, but his lean physique made him look so. He had an arresting face: dark, curly hair and craggy features—a somewhat broad nose, gaunt cheeks, and eyes that moved constantly and seemed to be taking in everything. Upon entering, he glanced at the two OS men at the door. Then his eyes wandered and rested on the Agency bosses circulating among the seated visitors. She saw or imagined some fleeting expression cross his face before he turned and moved toward the casket.
    Susie asked her for another cup of water, so she headed back to the water cooler. As she returned, she noticed that the man was