[BAD 07] - Silent Truth Read Free Page B

from the foyer.
    Hunter paused. Brugmann had a guest.
    The buyer for the list of CIA operatives and reason for additional guards?
    This was about as much fun as a surprise birthday party, which Hunter ranked alongside boats that sank. He and Eliot had less time than expected.
    He waited until the voices drifted into another room before entering the bedroom and pushing the door almost closed. Eliot had located the safe hidden behind a wall of mirrors. Documents in his gloved hand, he read quickly, then gave a thumbs-up.
    Hunter released a tight breath. One thing had worked according to plan.
    Eliot shuffled papers, pausing to read, then shook his head. He signaled he’d found something unexpected and turned his thumb down in a “bad news” sign.
    What? Was it written in Egyptian or something?
    Hunter leaned down to view the page under the light of the safe. The first document listed seven CIA agents, their posts, photographs of five men and two women, plus the codes needed to approach them as a friendly. Eliot snapped shots of all documents in case the FBI didn’t contain them, but they now had evidence to convict Brugmann of treason. The minute Hunter vacated the premises he’d send Retter a signal to contact the FBI agentswaiting a mile away to bust this prick.
    When he reviewed the second document, Hunter realized the problem. Eliot had found a map indicating detonation points beneath a hospital to be bombed the day after tomorrow in England.
    England’s prime minister had just been admitted for brain surgery, to take place in that hospital on that day. One of the finest specialists in the world, Peter Wentworth, was traveling from the U.S. to perform the surgery with a full contingent of security.
    The Wentworth dynasty ranked among the top ten wealthiest families in the world.
    Nothing in the document indicated who was behind the bombing or specifics on the target—the politically embattled prime minister or Peter Wentworth, who supported the prime minister’s unpopular economic views.
    Eliot returned all documents to the safe but did not relock the safe or reset the security alarms he’d bypassed since the FBI would be alerted within two minutes of their exit.
    Of course, the way Hunter’s luck was running tonight, he wouldn’t be surprised to meet Brugmann at the door to the bedroom. But when he checked the hallway was clear. Melting to the floor, he made efficient moves. A door across the foyer from the living room below opened. Brugmann’s bald head and round body popped into view. He waddled to the living room with his guest right behind.
    Hunter mentally catalogued the guest’s robust physical build, straight black hair to his collar, clean-shaven face… and a scar running along his right cheek and jaw. He wore his off-the-rack dark-gray business suit casuallywith the collar of his blue shirt unbuttoned.
    Nothing distinctive about the clothing or his mannerisms.
    No time for more surveillance. Hunter continued inching his way across the walkway bridge to the exit steps with Eliot on his heels. At the other side, he raced silently down the stairs to the cabana entrance, checked the outside guard, then made it to the corner of the building without incident.
    The guard he’d put down hadn’t moved an inch. Still out.
    “Jocko!” the guard at the rear of the house shouted.
    Hunter froze and stuck his neck past Eliot’s imitation of a statue to check the rear guard, who had stopped and faced away from the cabana. There was something familiar in the guard’s posture. He cupped his earpiece, listening for a reply that wouldn’t come if Jocko was the unconscious man behind Eliot.
    Hunter signaled Eliot to keep moving forward slowly, but he stopped again quickly. A third guard appeared between them and the corner of the deck.
    The guard blocked their exit point to where the climbing gear waited. He and Eliot would lose a firefight of two 9mms against an arsenal of HK rifles. Lights flooded the pool area