I Am Death

Seventy-nine

Adrian Kennedy was the head of the FBI’s National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime and its Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was also a good friend of Hunter’s.

Despite the late hour, Kennedy didn’t even blink when his cellphone rang inside his jacket pocket. As the head of the NCAVC he was used to getting calls at godforsaken hours. Sleep was a luxury that didn’t come as part of his job description.

He reached for the phone and was very surprised to see Hunter’s name on the display screen.

‘Robert?’ he answered it, still sounding a little unsure.

‘Hello, Adrian.’

‘Well, this is a surprise.’ His naturally hoarse voice, made worse by over thirty years of smoking, sounded tired but relaxed. ‘Are you back in LA?’

‘I am.’

Kennedy checked his watch. ‘What time is it there? About midnight?’

‘That’s about right, yes.’

‘So I guess you’re not calling for a chitchat.’ Adrian coughed a laugh. ‘What can I do for you, old friend?’

‘Are you in your office?’

‘Well, I’m sure as hell not home in bed where I should be.’

‘I need to ask you for a favor,’ Hunter said.

Kennedy’s interest grew. If there was one thing he knew about Robert Hunter, it was that he wasn’t a man who asked many people for favors.

‘What do you need?’ Kennedy leaned back in his leather chair.

Without going into too much detail, Hunter told him.

Kennedy sat forward. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘Not even a little bit.’

‘There’s no way, Robert.’ Kennedy’s voice turned morbidly serious. ‘That kind of information is as restricted as it gets. It’s under the same sort of lock and key as our witness protection program.’

‘To someone like me, yes,’ Hunter replied. ‘But not to the head of the NCAVC.’

‘Still, Robert. We have protocols and rules here.’

‘Yeah, I have an egg.’

Kennedy frowned. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I thought that we were just mentioning things that we can easily break.’

‘Oh, that’s cute.’

Hunter said nothing.

‘Listen, Robert, I can’t just go accessing that sort of information without leaving a log trail as long as Route Sixty-Six.’

‘So? Leave a trail.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘What difference would that make to you, Adrian? All you’ll be accessing is information and that’s what your job demands, isn’t it? Acquiring it, processing it and understanding it. No one will care.’

‘I will. I’ll still be breaking protocol to access extremely restricted information to then pass it on.’

‘To a fellow law enforcement officer, Adrian. What do you think I’m going to do with it, sell it to the press? And, after all, you owe me.’

Kennedy did owe Hunter. He also knew the LAPD detective well enough to know that he wouldn’t ask for anything unless it was absolutely imperative. He breathed out.

‘This is more than I owe you, old friend.’

Hunter remained quiet.

‘OK. Fuck it,’ Kennedy finally said. ‘Give me about half an hour.’