Wildfire by Ken Goddard Read Free Book Online

"Just when you think you know what you're doing, the bad guys get into the act and start confusing the shit out of everything."
    "Does it happen this way very often?" Woeshack asked.
    "As far as I know," Lightstone said with a sigh, "every damn time."
     
     
    The two chastened surveillance specialists, who were in fact named Fred and Carlos, were nearly a half mile away from the intersection of Charles and Boylston streets when Carlos—weakened by the loss of blood and the sharp pains in his broken wrist—finally had to stop to catch his breath.
    "You see them?" he gasped, bracing and concealing himself against a nearby inset wall, and holding a bloodstained handkerchief to his face with his one good hand, while his better-conditioned partner maintained a lookout.
    "No, I think we lost them back at the graveyard."
    "God, I hope so."
    Carlos was starting to wheeze now, sounding asthmatic, although his marine recon-trained partner correctly guessed that it was more likely the result of delayed shock. "Gotta get—hospital, face and arm fixed. Then— gonna hunt that bastard down."
    "Got news for you, man, we ain't gonna be going to no hospital." The man named Fred shook his head.
    "What do you mean?"
    "Ah mean we ain't going to no hospital," the black man repeated. "We're gonna be in enough shit as it is. Ain't no need to make things any worse."
    "Hey, it wasn't our fault. . . ." Carlos started to protest, but his partner shook him off.
    "Listen, man, we blew a tail. Simple as that," the black man said solemnly. "Our orders were to tag the people coming out of that apartment and ID their contacts, period. The man didn't say nothin' 'bout us getting ourselves made, and then facing up the guy in some alley."
    "I'm telling you, the guy was going for the safe house." Carlos shook his head. 'You could tell, the way he was making those moves. And you know what, I'll bet you a hundred bucks the entrance was in that alley too. If he hadn't heard us coming, we'd have had it nailed."
    "Maybe." The black man shrugged, sounding unconvinced.
    He had been maintaining a careful vigilance of the route that they had just taken, but in doing so, he had failed to notice the dark van that had pulled up to the curve about a half block up the street.
    "Maybe, my ass." Carlos shook his head, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. "I'm telling you, we had the bastard, whoever the hell he is.
    "He ain't no goddamned fish dealer, Ah'11 tell you that much right now."
    'You think he's a cop?"
    "Maybe. Kinda acted like it. But that don't make no sense either."
    "Why not?"
    "'Cause a cop wouldn't have—" Fred stopped, his eyes widening in fear.
    Seeing the expression in his partner's eyes, Carlos whirled around and found himself looking up in shocked disbelief at a huge, dark, and absolutely terrifying form.
    Then he whispered: "Oh, God."
    It was the last sound he ever uttered.

Chapter Two
     
    Somehow, William Devonshire Crowley managed to control his trembling upper torso long enough to look at his watch. It was 4:45 p.m.
    His heart sank.
    It wasn't supposed to be happening like this. The weather service had been predicting no change in the storm patterns and a low of 36 degrees all morning. Which was why he had decided to wear a light down jacket to his three-thirty meeting at Soldiers and Sailors Civil War Monument in the middle of Boston Common.
    But the snow had started to fall at three-fifteen, just as he stepped out of the Park Street subway exit. Within minutes it had begun to accumulate—heavy, wet, and slippery—on the surrounding paths and trees and park benches. Hardy tourists, determined to walk the Freedom Trail no matter what, buttoned up their jackets and hoods, and lowered their heads into the wind.
    And all that time, while the temperature continued its steady drop into the twenties, his contact never showed.
    "Christ's sake, where the hell are you?" he rasped.
    More of a prayer than a curse, because William Devonshire Crowley was