Page 73 of Live a Little!

13

JAKE FOUGHT A RISINGsense of unease, sipping tepid coffee that tasted like toxic waste—as though that would calm hisgut.

About a dozen agents were gathered in the meeting room, along with some guys from the Drug Enforcement Agency, customs and the local cops, working on a plan to widen the net and catch as many drug-dealing fish aspossible.

As pumped as he felt that they’d found hard evidence at Oceanic, right now he didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything but getting Cyn out of there. Today.Now.

But he was too well trained, too experienced an agent to do something stupid. He couldn’t phone her at her office or show up there. He’d have to wait until she left for the day, then make damn sure she didn’t go back. Nobody in the meeting had referred to her, probably because they’d forgotten she existed—all except Carl, who’d glanced over at him a couple of times with a questioning expression, but kept his mouthshut.

Cynthia was a volunteer; no reason for her to be involved now there was a possibility of danger. Damn it, Jake should have handcuffed her to the bed this morning to prevent her going to work. Worry, sharp and acidic, churned in his gut along with the god-awful coffee. He stood suddenly, unable to sit still anylonger.

Adam gave him a quizzical glance, but Jake shook his head sharply. He didn’t have anything to contribute to the conversation, because he hadn’t heard one word in ten. He glanced at his watch. A couple of hours before she’d be through. He slipped out. They would assume he’d visited thejohn.

Instead, he checked his messages. The sick feeling of unease didn’t let up. No messages from Cynthia. There was one from an Agent Wong of Interpol in Hong Kong. The man had left both work and home numbers, and, since Jake couldn’t begin to figure out what time it was over there, he tried workfirst.

“David Wong,” a soft voice answered in English on the firstring.

“This is Special Agent Jake Wheeler,FBI.”

“Ah, yes, Agent Wheeler. You have been inquiring about a ThomasHarrison?”

“That’sright.”

“I believe we may have found him. A body was pulled from the harbor late yesterday. Fits yourdescription.”

Jake’s limbs felt like they were frosting over. “How did hedie?”

“A bullet in the back of thehead.”

Execution style. “Any sign oftorture?”

There was a short pause. “It is impossible to say at this time.” A discreet cough traveled the miles between Hong Kong and Seattle. “The body was badly decomposed. Perhaps the autopsy results will tell usmore.”

“Are you certain it’sHarrison?”

“No. Not one hundred percent. He was wearing a watch engraved with his name, and a wallet containing identification was found near the body. But we will not be able to confirm identity until dental records can be matched. However, we know he was Caucasian and his height and clothing match your description. I believe these to be the remains of Mr.Harrison.”

Jake rubbed a hand across his churning gut. “Looks like the killers didn’t care if he was identified.” Maybe they were sending some kind of a warning? Harrison must have double-crossed or stolen. “Any idea when deathoccurred?”

“We believe several weeks ago. As soon as all the tests are completed, I will forward you a fullreport.”

“Thankyou.”

“In return,” the courteous voice continued, “I would very much appreciate any information you might have about Mr. Harrison’s knownassociations.”

“You will have our full cooperation, Mr. Wong. Thank you for this information. I’ll be intouch.”

“Good day, Special AgentWheeler.”

As he hung up, Jake noted his hand wasn’t shaking. It must be the only damn part of him thatwasn’t.

He spared a glance at the meeting room as he jogged by. His sense of urgency was too keen to stop and brief the troops. He could do that from his cellphone.

He knew damn well he’d essentially broken ranks by hightailing it out on his own, but he couldn’t worry about breaking a few lousy rules now. And while he was at it, he broke another one and called Cynthia’s direct number atOceanic.

“Come on, baby. Pick up,” he muttered, swearing with vicious helplessness when he got hervoicemail.

He tried her cell, but he wasn’t surprised when he got more voicemail. He cursed the air blue, pushing harder on the gaspedal.

---