Second Strike

CHAPTER 44

^{DALE CITY, VIRGINIA,}

^{AUGUST 16, 11:49 A.M. EDT}

This time Garin’s excursion to his apartment was not to drop bread crumbs but to stay awake. Primarily. Scrubbing off the last twenty-four hours in the shower and putting on some fresh clothes would help. So would another cup of coffee—then, back to the fray.

The apartment was substantially as he’d left it—sans a couple of dead Quds Force assassins. And the carpet had been cleaned.

The apartment was utilitarian. A mattress lay on the floor of the living room, which merged into a tiny kitchenette. There was a small bathroom and an even smaller walk-in closet. Other than the mattress, the only furnishing in the unit was a folding metal chair Garin pulled next to the counter to eat his meals. “Spartan” would be a wildly lavish description of the unit.

Garin turned on the coffeemaker before getting into the shower and doing his best to return to resembling a member of the human race. Sheets of hot, almost scalding water, followed by cold. He toweled off briskly, taking inventory of the nicks and bruises accumulated from the Crucible and the incident in the airport parking garage in Cleveland. Minor and unconcerning.

He looked more closely in the mirror. His eyes were somewhat bloodshot, though not as crimson as he’d seen them numerous times before. For some, gazing in the mirror soon after being responsible for the deaths of several human beings, even in self-defense, was a time for introspection. It had never been so for Garin. As far as he was concerned, conflict and soul-searching were trite literary and cinematic conventions. The killings were necessary, justified. He would kill more soon. If he didn’t, innocents would perish. Simple equation. At some point, he’d pray the Rosary. But his conscience carried no burdens.

He dispensed with a shave. He wasn’t going to a job interview; he was trying to remain alert and something less than repellent.

But the shower helped. He was feeling pretty good, all things considered. He put on some jeans and a gray T-shirt and poured himself a large cup of coffee, plopping in a couple of ice cubes so he could down it almost as quickly as he had the pot on the plane.

Reaching atop the refrigerator, where he kept an array of nutritional supplements, Garin pulled down powdered turmeric, ginger, and a container of creatine. Turmeric and ginger to relieve muscle soreness, creatine for muscles depleted by the Crucible. He put a teaspoon of each in a glass of water and swallowed the concoction in two gulps. He chased that with another cup of iced coffee.

From his black gym bag Garin pulled a SIG Sauer P226. Dwyer had given it to him along with several spare magazines. Garin placed the handgun in a holster at the small of his back and the spare magazines in his hip pockets.

He placed a call on one of the burners. It was answered on the first ring.

“Dwyer.”

“Matt tell you about the dead man’s house?”

“He did. Some of my men are there right now. Haven’t seen them this jacked since they left the teams. But they’re under orders not to do anything without you.”

“Good. I’m on my way. Send me a Google map of where they’ll be positioned.”

“We should let the FBI know at some point,” Dwyer said.

“Know what? That a dead guy answered his phone?”

“If Russian agents are using a dead man’s residence as a safe house, the FBI needs to know—especially if one of them’s Bor. We have no authority to go blasting in there by ourselves. If the stuff hits the fan, we’ll be in big trouble,” Dwyer said. “Mikey?”

“I hear you.”

“Then say something.”

“This is just surveillance. That’s all.”

“Bull. You don’t do surveillance. You do death and destruction,” Dwyer countered. “And that’s fine. But my men can’t be part of it. We have no authority. We’ll all go to prison.”

“Dan, I’m not suicidal,” Garin assured him. “Do you actually believe I would go into a house Bor might be in without an army surrounding the place?”

“Damn right you would. Remember who you’re talking to, buddy. I know you. I trained you. You think you’re freakin’ indestructible. That’s why you keep entering these nutty competitions. Daring someone or something to prove you’re not invincible. So far, you’ve never lost. But guess what, buddy? First time for everything. So promise me, before you move, we call the FBI. In fact, I’m calling them right now.”

“Don’t,” Garin said sharply. “Think about it, Dan. We know Bor was being helped by someone very high up in our government. So high up that they had the FBI after me during the EMP deal. Somehow, they even managed to get Delta after me. On American soil. In violation of about four thousand different statutes. That person or persons has never been captured or identified. Nothing’s changed. We call the FBI, Bor will know about it. The only people we can trust are the ones who proved trustworthy before: Olivia, Brandt, and the president. That’s it.”

Dwyer exhaled. “All right. I won’t call. But just surveillance. I’m telling my men, no matter what Garin does, they’re to stand down. No engagement whatsoever.”

“Good. I’m on my way.”