Page 53 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight
The other thing that really grabbed Jack’s attention was the pistol on display, with the claim that it was the weapon Princip had used to carry out the murders. What struck Jack was how completely unremarkable it was, almost primitive, even for those days. Jack knew enough about the actual event, with its multiple failures and incredible coincidences, to believe that God or history or some other force had decided that Ferdinand was supposed to die that day, no matter what.
Jack’s moment of philosophical musing was interrupted by the phone vibrating in his pocket. It was Gavin. Having seen enough, he stepped outside into the warm sunlight.
“Hey, Gavin, kinda early for you, isn’t it?”
Gavin yawned on the other end of the line. “I was just hot-dropping my frigate through a wormhole.”
“Excuse me?”
“EVE Online, dude. You should play.”
“Thanks for calling, Gav. You got my e-mail, I take it?”
“Sure did. Sorry that other list didn’t work out. There were some real cuties. Any chance you at least got a date or two out of it?”
Jack laughed. “Not exactly why I’m here. But thanks anyway. So, do you think you can pull another list together for me?”
“Won’t be a problem, but it will take a little while. I remember culling out a bunch of candidates from the original search because I was only looking for blondes. Shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes, maybe less.”
“Wow. That fast?”
“We aim to please.”
“Shoot that to me as soon as you can. And thanks again. I really do appreciate it.”
“It’s for your mom, dude. No problem.”
Gavin hung up and Jack pocketed his phone. That was really good news, Jack thought. But it also meant he needed to get back to his place. He’d have to do his sightseeing some other time, and hiscevapiwould have to wait.
He turned and headed back for the Latin Bridge. It was a good thing there wasn’t a tollbooth at this crosswalk, otherwise he’d be paying a fortune. It just proved how good the Airbnb apartment’s location was.
Jack kept an eye out for the man in the Ray-Bans in his peripheral vision but didn’t pick anyone up as he sped past knots of tourists and locals checking out the fruits and vegetables at an outdoor stand.
He turned off the main street and onto a narrower one, then left again onto the street facing his building, past a bar where two old men smoked cigarettes and drank beer in the sunshine. He turned the next corner into the little alleyway leading to the parking lot that fronted his entrance and turned sharply again and slammed his back against the wall of his building.
Listening.
The soft clop of leather soles on concrete stuttered nearer. A suit coat turned the corner—
Jack grabbed the heavily muscled man by the lapels and spun him around in a one-eighty, like a ballroom swing. The man’s wide back slammed into the concrete wall and heoofed as he hit, his Ray-Bans clattering to the ground.
“Who the hell—” But Jack was cut short by an unexpected elbow punch to his chest. It was weak because the man had no momentum behind the thrust, but it was hard enough to knock Jack’s grip loose.
But before the man could throw another punch, Jack was already in counterattack mode, returning the favor of an elbow strike, but this one fired straight into the man’s pockmarked face.
The man howled as the cartilage in his nose broke, gushing blood onto his shirt.
Jack pulled his arm back to launch a devastating strike with his right fist when a pistol racked behind his ear.
Oh, shit.
28
NEAR THE ITALY–SLOVENIA BORDER
The Italian customs officer boarded the Gulfstream 550 in the FBO hangar at the Trieste airport, and after a cursory inspection stamped passports and wished everyone a good stay in his country.
Dominic “Dom” Caruso, Adara Sherman, and Bartosz “Midas” Jankowski deplaned without luggage. The director of transportation, Lisanne Robertson, a former Marine and the newest member of The Campus team, stayed behind, in keeping with her role as security for the plane and crew, though nobody believed that the sleepy port city posed much of a threat to anybody on this operation.
