The Asset (27 page)

“Got a cigarette?” Kennedy asked Love.

She handed him her pack and he lit one. Then he held the burning ember over Best's eyeball.

“You're going to tell me everything you know before you die or I'm going to stub this out in your eye. Then I'm going to move to your next eye, then your tongue, your lips—”

“I don't know . . . shit,” Best gurgled. “He doesn't make that mistake.”

“Why are you working for him?” Kennedy raged. “You think he would have given you anything other than a bullet in the head when this was done?”

“No . . . choice. No one does. My family . . .”

“Where is he now?”

Best started coughing up blood and didn't stop until he was dead.

Day 50

I
think we need to
keep moving,” Kennedy said, “until we have a plan.”

It was dark, and he and Love were sitting in the back of a twenty-four-hour Laundromat in the Back Bay at 2:00
A.M.
Both of them were exhausted and finding it difficult to think straight. Kennedy felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest, crushing the life out of him, but he didn't want Love to think he'd given up. Love looked like she had given up, no doubt plagued by the thought that Rico's death was on her. Outside, the frigid rain was starting to turn to the light, dry snowflakes that come with bitter cold.

“Is there anyone who can help us?” she asked, tears streaking down her beautiful face.

“Not that I can think of. The CIA is out. All of their agents are dead and we're alive. So, they're going to want to grill us about that first before helping us.”

“Which leaves us where, exactly?”

“I don't know.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

Kennedy saw the look in her eyes and almost couldn't bear it. He tried his best to retain his composure and think things through.

“Our only real option is to go to the place Nuri found in Cambridge. If she's still alive, she can get us off the street so we can eat and get some rest, try to get our heads back in the game.”

“I just hope we can trust her.”

“Yeah,” Kennedy said, looking out the window. “I don't think we have much choice. Harvard Bridge isn't far from here. We can cross over into Cambridge and walk the rest of the way on side streets.”

They walked outside. There was a strong wind coming across the river, whipping their faces with icy snowflakes. They buttoned their coats to the top and shoved their hands deep in their pockets. Kennedy gripped his gun. As they made their way across the Harvard Bridge, it occurred to him that, without real muscle, they wouldn't have a chance. He had seen the kind of killers that worked for Lentz. They needed a killer of their own.

“I think I might actually know someone who can help us,” Kennedy said as they walked. “He was on my team when I started with Red Carpet. Ex–special forces type.”

“But isn't he CIA?”

“He seemed like a hired gun. They only brought him in for my airport jobs. And he was the only one who wasn't there when I met the team in Paris.”

“Maybe he'll take pity on us,” Love said, shivering.

“It's worth a try,” Kennedy said.

T
he night before, after Nuri
left Kennedy and Love at the bar, she'd gone to scout the corporate apartment they were going to use to crash. She cracked the lockbox and went inside. The place was nice and there were Cokes in the fridge, so she grabbed one and turned on the TV, waiting for them to arrive. That's when she saw the story about the three burning apartments on the local news and noticed that one of them was the place where Best had tried to send her. So when she got the same 911 message Love and Kennedy had gotten from Alia, telling them to return to the safe house, she didn't trust it. No way was she walking into her own funeral.

A few hours later, she tried calling Alia from a pay phone, using a collect code so she'd know who it was. After ringing her several times with no answer, Nuri knew something was wrong. Alia
always
answered. Nuri also tried calling Love, Kennedy, and Best. Radio silence all around. Against her better judgment, she went back to the safe house where they'd all met hours earlier. The front door was standing open.

Inside, she found the bodies of Best and Alia.

When she saw Best's gun and the small entry wounds in Alia's chest and head, she knew he had killed her. And since both Alia and Best had been shot from behind, with Best's entry wounds indicating a larger-­caliber bullet, it was clear someone else had killed him. In the event it might have been Kennedy or Love, she knew she had to track them down. She called
both their sat phones from the safe house phone and still got no answer. Their GPS signals weren't transmitting either. But without bodies, she couldn't assume anything. They could be dead or in hiding.

What if they killed Alia and framed Best?

It was unlikely, but she'd seen shit happen on this op she never dreamed possible. Which meant
anything
was possible. And when she went to grab a gun and some ammo from the safe house stores and found guns and all the cash missing, she wasn't going to take any chances.

Before going back to the corporate apartment and potentially walking into an ambush, she called a friend for help—someone who wasn't on the company payroll, but who specialized in dirty work.

“I think you need to go in,” he said without hesitation. “Try to salvage what's left of your career.”

“These motherfuckers jacked my
whole
crew,” she said. “And turned at least one of us. So, I'm thinking I would rather put my foot so deep in that Eurotrash motherfucker's ass, he'll be cleaning the heel of my Doc Martens with his tongue.”

“I get you. And don't take this the wrong way, but you're a computer geek. You'll just get dead, and that doesn't do shit for your cause.”

“Fucker. If you weren't right, I'd hang up on you.”

“Be smart, Nuri. Go home. Langley can still get this guy. The right way.”

H
ours later, after Nuri got
off the phone with her friend, Kennedy and Love were huddled in the shadows across the street from the apartment, watching its third-floor windows for any sign of movement. The building was on a quiet residential street near a high-tech business park. There were only a few parked cars, and most of the units in the other buildings lining the block were dark. The temperature had dropped into the twenties, and Love was clinging to Kennedy for warmth.

“I don't know, Love,” Kennedy whispered. “Maybe we should try to contact her first.”

“How?”

“We could leave a note on the door,” Kennedy suggested.

“Maybe have her meet us someplace safe? Like a police station?” Love said.

“Actually, that's a great idea. We'll leave a note, tell her to meet us at a local precinct house, then watch it from across the street to see if she shows.”

“Or if the fucking grim reaper shows,” Love said through chattering teeth.

“Cool,” Kennedy said. “All we need is some paper.”

“We suck so hard at being spies.” Love giggled.

“I know,” Kennedy said. “It's pathetic.”

She pulled him close and kissed him.

“Do you think now's a good time to—”

“I'm just trying to stay warm,” she said.

“Then come inside by the fire,” said a voice behind them.

Love yelped and they both whipped around. Nuri was holding a gun on them, pensive, but not hostile.

“You guys are right,” she said. “You do suck hard at being spies.”

“Are you going to kill us?” Love asked, shivering uncontrollably. “Because I'm so cold I don't really care if I die anymore.”

“No. But I will make you some cocoa.”

Nuri led them to the apartment, where Love beelined for the gas fireplace blazing in the corner.

“How do you know you can trust us?” Kennedy asked Nuri.

“I went to the safe house,” she said. “It wasn't a particularly complex crime scene. Oh, and I found this.”

She plugged a USB drive into the side of the big-screen TV and turned it on.

Kennedy and Love watched while Nuri hit play. The video was a surveillance camera recording of Best murdering Alia, then getting capped by Kennedy. Love turned away, unable to watch.

“I'm sure Best intended to pull the security camera footage after he killed Alia,” Nuri said, shutting the TV off. “But then again, he didn't think he was walking into the O.K. Corral, did he, Wyatt Earp?”

“So, you know you can trust us. How do we know we can trust you?” Kennedy asked.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Nuri mocked him like a little kid.

“I guess we don't have much choice,” he said.

“Not really. But then again, neither do I,” Nuri said.

Love laughed and gave her a hug.

“I never thought I would be so glad to see you,” Love said.

“Bitch, I'm your new BFF,” Nuri said, hugging her back.

They raided the place and ate everything that resembled food in the fridge and cupboards. By that point it was almost 5:00
A.M.
and everyone was wiped out, so they turned in, Nuri in one room and Kennedy and Love in
another. Love quickly fell asleep with her face buried in his chest and he followed suit, effortlessly drifting away. He had no idea how long he'd been out when a noise woke him. He opened his eyes and a gun barrel slithered out of the darkness, pointed at his face. Kennedy sat up with a start, waking Love.

“Oh my God,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Where's your gun?” a man's voice asked in the shadows.

“Nightstand,” Kennedy said.

“Lot of good it's doing you there,” the voice said.

“Who are you?”

A floor lamp switched on. Mitchell was standing next to the bed. He was dressed in desert combat fatigues with digital camo. His usual sharp, glowering face and squinty eyes, combined with a recently sprouted patchy beard, made him look even more like he'd just been released from solitary confinement.

“Let her go—” Kennedy started.

“Put your hands on your heads,” Mitchell demanded.

They put their hands on their heads and Kennedy looked at Love.

“I love—”

“Shut up,” Mitchell snapped. “Now's not the time to get sentimental.”

Nuri slipped in, her gun trained on Mitchell.

“Look at you, coming all this way to save us. Who's the sentimental one now?”

“Shut up,” Mitchell said, putting his gun away.

“Wait, what the fuck!?” Kennedy said. “You called him? Why the hell didn't you tell us?”

“Thanks for the heart attack,” Love said.

“Sorry. I didn't want to get your hopes up,” she said.

“Still the same five-star pain in the ass, I see,” Mitchell said to Nuri. “Get dressed, team FUBAR. We got a lot of shit to talk about.”