World Without End by Chris Mooney Read Free Book Online Page A

football games with you, taking an interest in the sport responsible for most of the pain in his early life. Why do you think that is? So he can patch up things between him and his father?"
    "It's not that simple. Look " "Human behavior is simple. Take yourself. After the shooting you got back into the game. Why? To prove yourself to the team. And to me."
    It was the second time today someone had questioned his professional judgment; the fact that it was now Pasha, his lover and confidant, who was testing him sparked his anger.
    "I'm getting tired of the cheap analysis," he said.
    "This gig is going south. Mark my words."
    "I'm tired of baby-sitting. Go and do your job," Pasha said and hung up.
    Conway pulled the phone away from his ear. His face burned. He ran his tongue over the edges of his bottom teeth and stared at the wad of chewing tobacco that someone had recently left in the sink.
    The morning air was suddenly splintered by the sound of the Cessna's engines coming to life.
    Conway walked to the window and looked outside. A thin, wiry man with spiked blond hair and a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth was jogging over to them: Chris Evans, Dixon's jump instructor and partner.
    Conway went back outside and rejoined Dixon, who refused to look at him.
    "Time for takeoff," Chris Evans said in that long, trademark Texas drawl. His eyes shifted down to the breakfast splatter on the ground.
    A grin tugged on the corner of his mouth.
    "You boys sure you're up for this?" he asked.
    "I am," Dixon said and moved past Conway without a glance or word and trotted down the slope of grass that led to the runway. Evans watched after him, taking a long drag off his cigarette.
    "Puking always happens the first time out," Evans said.
    "Better he got it out now than when he's falling through the air. I can't tell you how many times that I've had jumpers spew all over me."
    Evans turned to Conway.
    "But I guess you've seen all that, since you've done this before. I see you packed your own chute."
    "I had it in the car," Conway said, not really hearing himself.
    Unconsciously, he scratched the scar on his collarbone.
    Dix couldn't stay mad. Once he got to the plane's door, he turned around and, typical Dix, he smiled and motioned for Conway to join him.
    Evans said, "Time's ticking, my brother. We got a full docket today.
    You joining us or bowing out?"
    Not right, it still doesn't feel right, goddammit.
    Decision time, yes or no?
    Conway boarded the plane.
    Deep in the woods, less than half a mile away from the runway, Gunther Prad sat with his back against a tree, his hands folded across his lap, his entire body covered by a blanket that was in turn covered with actual leaves and tree branches. The blanket was critical in another way; it prevented a satellite from picking up his heat signature. As long as Gunther stayed under it, the CIA wouldn't know he was here.
    Strapped across his shaved head was a pair of Viper binoculars. They were hooked into a specialized computer part of the army's MARS. system. The computer took what Gunther saw on his headset and transmitted the real-time images directly to the computer screen in Faust's Austin condo. From the open hole in the blanket, Gunther watched as Steve Conway, lead team member of the secret CIA unit called IWAC, boarded the small Cessna.
    Gunther had wanted to break into Delburn, the fictitious consulting company back in Austin. All those computers hooked directly into the CIA; man, the place was a gold mine just waiting to be tapped. It wouldn't take much to figure out a way to bypass the building's security. Once inside he could hack his way inside the company's computer network. Gunther was no script kiddie; he was a professional hacker. Bypassing the security and then raiding the databases to see what the CIA had on Angel Eyes, Gunther could do it blindfolded. After that, he would plant a sniffer program on the line that would record the group's passwords,