The End Game by Raymond Khoury Read Free Book Online Page B

she’s in the zone.” He brightened at her name. The guy was totally lovestruck. “But maybe you’ll come up with more on the Camacho front. Maybe you could check with Portuguese Intelligence, see if they’ve got something on Corrigan.”
    “Or Corrigam.”
    He smiled. “Exactly.”
    I wasn’t thrilled. It wasn’t much—not much at all. Just another dark alley with an insurmountable brick wall at its end.
    Kurt read my face. “Dude, we’ll find something. She will, anyway. I know it.”
    I shrugged. “All right. Do me a favor. Check on something else for me.”
    “Shoot.”
    “You remember our little Casanova down in DC?”
    Kurt gave me a curious look. “Our man Stan?”
    “Exactly. See if you can find out what his calendar looks like for Thursday.”
    He scratched the top of his ear with his thumb. “This Thursday? The day after tomorrow?”
    “Yep.”
    “Thursday was Stan’s booty night.”
    I said, “I’m wondering if it still is.”
    He nodded slowly to himself, the ear-scratching slowing down too. “No problemo. Easily done.”
    “Great. Thanks.” I tapped the printouts as I stood up. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
    “Cool,” he said as he got off the bench too. “I’ll say hi to Gigi from you.”
    I gave him a chastening scowl.
    He said, “Dude, lighten up. It’s Christmas.”
    I took a couple of steps, then turned back toward him.
    “Treat her right, Kurt. She seems like a keeper. But don’t let her push it too far. I don’t want either of you ending up in an orange jumpsuit or as permanent houseguests of the Ecuadorian embassy. Not so soon after you’ve found each other.”
    Kurt beamed and patted his heart. “Thanks, man. Truly. I’m just . . . thanks.”
    “Don’t push it, Jaegers. My Christmas spirit only extends so far.” I turned and walked away. I couldn’t resist a smile as I headed back toward the Expedition, but I felt deflated. The Kurt route—now the Kurt and Gigi route—was going nowhere. Once he got me the info I needed about Kirby, I thought I might have to set him loose. I’d miss him—but this was getting us nowhere, and it was putting him and his archmage, whatever that was, at risk.
    I was getting into the Expedition when my work BlackBerry rang.
    I checked the screen. There was no number appearing on it. It was a private caller.
    I took the call.
    “Agent Reilly?”
    I froze. The voice was cavernous and artificially monotone. The caller was using an electronic voice changer.
    Never a good sign.

5
    In these situations, my mind immediately goes to Tess, Kim and Alex.
    I don’t know why. I don’t usually deal with psychos or serial killers. The cases I normally work on rarely have the kind of personal angle that can spiral into a vendetta against my loved ones or me. But right there and then, I thought of them. And it sent a spasm of worry through me.
    I just said, “I’m listening.”
    “Are you interested in justice?”
    I forced out a small chortle. “It’s really hard to take that question seriously from someone who sounds like he has a Darth Vader fetish.”
    The man paused, then said, “I know things, Agent Reilly. Things you need to hear. Things I need you to do something about. Many innocent people have died because of this. The question is, are you ready to put your life on the line to do something about it?”
    I didn’t know what to make of this. We get these whackos more frequently than you’d think, but they usually call the Bureau’s switchboard. Special Agents’ cell phone numbers aren’t easy to get hold of.
    I said, “That’s kind of my job description. Who are you? How’d you get this number?”
    “What I know, what I want to tell you about, goes way back. It involves a lot of people. Powerful people.”
    “OK, I’m going to hang up now, cause we’ve hit our quota on scoops about Area 51 and—”
    He interrupted me. “What about your father Colin? You hit your quota on that too?”
    That got my attention.
    I