The Singularity Race by Mark de Castrique Read Free Book Online

murdered my husband. That’s what it was. Cold-blooded murder. I don’t want you on the front lines as a protector. I need an investigator.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “Someone needs to speak for Ted. You’re not only his friend, you’re the best damned investigator in this city. Please.”
    Her desperate face was replaced by others—Kayli pleading for him to retire, President Brighton requesting that he stay out of the line of fire, and finally his wife, Laurie, whispering, “She’s in pain, Rusty. Help her.”
    He made one final protest. “I don’t know where to begin.”
    â€œWho does?” she asked. “But I’ll give you whatever resources I can, and at least I’ll take comfort in knowing we’re trying to do something.”
    â€œAll right, Elizabeth.”
    They parted with a hug. He declined her offer for a ride to his apartment, claiming he had to pick up a few grocery items. When she was gone, he went back for a second cup of coffee and returned to the back table. He scanned through the contact files on his cell phone, not sure if he still had the number. It was there, a relic of the old days.
    Just when he thought he was headed for voicemail, a voice snapped, “Dawkins.”
    â€œSam. It’s Nails. Did I wake you?”
    â€œNo, I’m on duty. But I had a good three hours sleep.”
    â€œI’m sorry. When are you rotating off?”
    â€œI’m not back in the city for seventy-two hours. We’re headed to Camp David. Orca’s spending a long weekend.”
    Sam Dawkins just assumed Mullins knew Brighton’s code name. He was correct.
    â€œWill you give Orca a message?”
    A pause as the question forced Dawkins to consider his response carefully. Then he asked, “Is he going to shoot the messenger?”
    â€œNot if you tell him you’ve no idea what it means. Just say I called and asked you to relay that I’m coming off the sidelines.”
    â€œYou’re coming off the sidelines. That’s all?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œAre you expecting him to give me some sort of reply for you?”
    â€œNo. And tell him so. It’s a heads-up, nothing more.”
    â€œNothing more, my ass,” Dawkins grumbled.
    â€œTrust me. It’s not your ass he’s worried about.”
    Dawkins laughed. “You nailed that right, Nails. Stay safe.”
    â€œAlways, my friend.” And he hoped his message to Brighton increased the odds of just that.
    Mullins got up from the table, grabbed his coffee, and began walking back to his apartment, unaware of the black limousine trailing half a block behind him.

Chapter Seven
    Mullins carried his coffee and his thoughts up the hill toward Shirlington House. Once he made the decision to help Elizabeth Lewison, his mind began searching for viable pathways to penetrate the secrets of his own government. Someone had to know something.
    He was so deep in concentration that the world around him disappeared. Only when he heard his name did he realize a black limo was cruising along the curb, matching his pace.
    He stopped and the car braked beside him. A man of about fifty with clear blue eyes and steely-gray hair looked out over a half-lowered, tinted rear window.
    â€œMr. Mullins, might I have a word with you?”
    Mullins quickly scanned the area, alert for any coordinated assault. Late morning traffic was light and there were no other pedestrians. Mullins realized if this man wanted him dead, he would have shot rather than spoken.
    â€œWho are you?”
    â€œMy name is Robert Brentwood. But that’s not important.”
    Robert Brentwood. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place the context.
    â€œIt’s about Dr. Lisa Li. Just a few moments is all, and then you can be on your way.”
    Mullins shook his head. “A few answers first.”
    â€œAll right.” Brentwood smiled. “Ask