Wildfire by Ken Goddard Read Free Book Online Page B

tried, William Devonshire Crowley simply could not erase the chilling memory of the man's eyes. How they had narrowed and then turned cold and hard when Crowley told him that the deal would have to be renegotiated. And how they had lost all expression when Crowley had added that the most his employers would be able to pay was four hundred thousand dollars apiece, rather than the initially offered five hundred thousand.
    Think about it, Crowley had suggested in a shaky voice, realizing only at that moment that he had almost certainly gone too far. We'll meet here again at three-thirty this afternoon. Right here, in front of the Soldiers and Sailors Civil War Monument. Work out all the details. Win-win situation all the way around. I guarantee it.
    And how the man had stared at him that one last time before he turned away. Stared at him with an expression that was so cold and malevolent and threatening that Crowley had nearly wet his pants right there in the park.
    We want you to try to bargain him down. Get us a deal if you can. You're good at that sort of thing, Crowley. That's why we hired you.
    That's what they had told him at the airport.
    Christ, didn't they realize what this man was like? Didn't they understand?
    "Goddamnit, it's not my fault! I only did what they told me to do!"
    Crowley tried to scream the words out in a roar of iron-willed defiance. But his voice broke on the word fault, and the rest of it disintegrated into a whimpering sob that was completely inaudible beyond a dozen feet in the growing storm. Not that it mattered, because there was no one on the low exposed hilltop to hear him anyway. Or at least no one that he could see.
    His body was trembling so hard now and his hands hurt so bad that he could barely hold onto the handle of the computer case. But he didn't dare set it down. He understood now that the little laptop computer was his primary lifeline back to his accustomed world of privilege, luxury, and warmth. Not to mention sanctuary from huge, hulking men with terrifying eyes, he reminded himself prayerfully. He couldn't even bear to think about the computer being stolen, so he kept switching it back and forth between his numbed and aching hands as he continued to scan the bare- treed landscape.
    Distracted for a brief moment, Crowley allowed his gaze to travel up the base of the monument, back to those first two lines of the dedication that had been inscribed in the high concrete surface many years ago:
    to the men of boston who died for their country
    It was the sight of those chilling words, and the memory of the terrifying expression in the man's eyes, and the sudden overwhelming realization that he really had gone too far, that sent William Devonshire Crowley scrambling down the slippery asphalt pathway in a frantic dash toward the distant Park Street subway entrance. Running as if he were being pursued by ghosts. Or demons.
    Or him, he thought, too panicked now to even look back, as he ran even harder past the empty and desolate Frog Pond, for fear of what he might see.
    Can't wait any longer, he told himself as he nearly knocked three elderly women to the ground in his haste to get through the green sheltering doors of the subway entrance and down the slush-splattered stairs and into the relative security of the underground train station.
    Have to get back to the hotel. Have to let them know. Get them to call it all off before . . .
    He looked back over his shoulder as he fumbled with the small token. At the top of the stairs a huge dark figure was standing in the doorway. Driven by mindless fear, Crowley plunged through the turnstile and ran for the green commuter train that was just getting ready to depart the station.
    It was only when he was on board, clutching onto the overhead rail and trying to catch his breath, that he became aware of the eerie shadows and shapes in the surrounding darkness of the underground tunnel. The steel support and cross beams standing out like angular