Vital Force by Trevor Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

twisted his foot over it as Jake moved into the shadows.
    â€œYou could have just come to my hotel,” Jake said. “We could be drinking a beer right now instead of freezing our asses off out in the darkness.”
    Jake was close enough to hear air forcing its way out of the man’s nostrils, so he knew it was the same guy who had called him earlier.
    â€œAsthma,” Jake said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou have asthma, so the Agency sends you to Beijing in February with all this Gobi sand in the air. How smart is that?”
    The man gave a slight laugh. “I heard you were a smart ass.”
    Jake flicked on a penlight, illuminating the man’s face for a second, and quickly turned it off.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?” The man whispered loudly.
    â€œI like to see who I’m dealing with. Show me some I.D.”
    â€œAre you on drugs?”
    â€œI must be,” Jake said, “or I wouldn’t be standing in a dark alley at midnight with an asthmatic Agency man who wants to use me for some reason.”
    The man laughed again through his nose. It was barely audible, but Jake was comforted somewhat knowing the Agency had actually hired someone with a sense of humor.
    â€œWhat do you want from me?” Jake asked.
    There was silence, so Jake started to walk away.
    â€œWait.”
    A hand grasped his arm, and Jake removed it, twisted the man’s arm around, and jammed the guy’s face into the metal fence. With Jake’s free hand, he clasped his fingers around the left side of his face and placed his thumb behind the guy’s left ear, applying pressure. Most people could last only a few seconds without feeling like their brains would pop out of their ears. This Agency guy made it a full thirty seconds. Impressive.
    â€œAll right,” he forced out through his teeth. “Inside right pocket.”
    Jake slid his left hand from his grasp and inside the guy’s front pocket, retrieving a passport. He still had a hold of the guy with a right arm twist, but now he needed his light, and that would take two hands.
    He took two steps back and let go of the arm. Jake could hear the man rotating his right arm back into place as he pulled the light from his pocket and shone it on the passport, cupped inside his jacket. It was a standard U.S. diplomatic passport. Definitely Agency. He turned off the light and slapped the passport against the guy’s chest.
    â€œOkay, Mr. Brian Armstrong...what do you want from me?”
    â€œI need you,” he said. “I heard what you did in Odessa years ago.”
    Jake hadn’t thought about Odessa for a long time. So much had gone right, but so much had also gone tragically wrong there. Then it all clicked. The face had looked familiar. And now the name.
    â€œAny relation to Quinn Armstrong?”
    The man hesitated. “Quinn was my brother.”
    Damn. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œHe died for his country.”
    Still, Jake might have been able to save the man’s life. They had worked together in Odessa, and Quinn had been killed by his own boss, a rogue Agency station chief.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Jake repeated.
    â€œI read the report,” Armstrong said. “You had no idea my little brother would be killed. And you did bring down the guy who shot him.”
    Bring down was not really true. Jake had found out about the corrupt officer and was present when he ate his own gun.
    Changing the subject, Jake said, “So why me?”
    â€œEasy. You were with the Agency. I can trust you. And....”
    â€œAnd nobody knows me in China.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œWhat do you need?” Jake asked.
    â€œMeet me tomorrow morning at ten in the center of Tiananmen Square.”
    He didn’t hear the sound first, but Jake did see the flash. He grabbed Armstrong by the coat and pulled him to the ground. Now the clinking of metal against metal followed each flash as bullets glanced