Smoke and Mirrors

“That handgun silenced? He some kind of hit man?” Dr. Barnett asked.

“Something like that. Brad, we need to take a quick walk around,” Winter said.

“Where?” Brad asked.

Winter used a handkerchief to wipe his prints off the items and put them back where he’d found them. He stood, snapped off the light, and holstered his.45. “This guy had someone at the other end of the radio. Since he’s been here like this for hours, I doubt his backup made out any better than he did.”

“You going to call the cops?” Dr. Barnett asked.

“I don’t think we should rush into anything just yet,” Winter said. “He’s not going anywhere. Let’s see if we can find the vehicle this spare key unlocks.”

“When I lived here, we almost never found dead professional killers in our yards,” Dr. Barnett said.

59

Winter found an abandoned and locked GMC Yukon a block away, and opened it using the spare car key from the dead man’s wallet.

Based on the thermos and the two cups abandoned on the console, there had been a team using the vehicle. The dead man’s partner wouldn’t have abandoned the vehicle, so Winter figured a second body could be close by. There was a laptop on the floorboard. Winter opened it and the small screen showed a map grid with three closely spaced dots representing three of the four vehicles in Brad’s driveway. In the backseat, he spotted a small receiver with digital recording capability for audio transmissions. He erased the contents. He’d look in the vehicles later for corresponding microphones.

In the back, two Pelican equipment cases held an HK semiautomatic shotgun and a pair of MP5SDs, military- issue fully automatic 9mm machine guns with noise suppressors and rubber baffles. Armed with subsonic rounds, they were as silent as suppression sciences allowed. Neither had been manufactured with serial numbers. There were enough loaded magazines to supply an Army platoon patrolling downtown Baghdad.

“Brad, we need to go back.”

“He was a hit man.”

“This was a two-man team.”

“Where’s the other one?”

“If he’s lucky, he’s dead. If not, Styer has him.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Can you trust your father to keep his mouth shut?”

“Can you tell us why he should?”

Winter nodded.

“He can keep a secret.”

“Good. If these people don’t know he knows, he’ll be safe.”

“What about us?”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Winter said.

After Winter and Brad took a quick look around for the second cutout’s corpse, and were satisfied he wasn’t close by, Dr. Barnett joined the trio in the gazebo fifty feet from the corpse to talk.

“Our dead friend’s ID isn’t legit. The calluses on his hands aren’t from unpacking boxes of plastic flyswatters from China. The weapons and equipment in the truck point to him being the worst kind of professional.”

“Hit man,” Dr. Barnett said.

“The dead guy over there was a cutout. You familiar with the term?”

“I am,” Dr. Barnett said. “Men, usually killers or intelligence gatherers, with false identities who work for the government running about the world engaging in dark ops and wet work. Very scary individuals who are immune to the legalities and societal conventions the rest of us are compelled to follow. They can do whatever they want and nobody can do anything to them, because our government goes all out to cover up whatever they do. They’re like guided bolts of lightning.”

Alexa looked at William Barnett, puzzled.

“Between medical journals, I read the occasional spy novel. Clancy, LeCarre, and Ian Fleming. Am I close?”

“Yes,” Winter said.

“They were here to kill us?” Brad asked.

“If they were after us, we wouldn’t still be here. Best I can figure, they were hoping we’d turn over a rock with Styer under it, so they could kill him.”

Winter went on. “I think it’s most likely that Styer followed us here, spotted this team, killed one, and took the other off so he could gather information. He knows this will distract us. The cutouts are after him, but I think he likes that because he loves to show off.”

Dr. Barnett said, “Sounds invincible.”

Alexa said, “He has some weaknesses. Most importantly for us, he is a narcissistic psychopath without any control to rein him in. The cutouts will get him eventually, and he knows that on some level.”

Quickly, Winter recounted the story of Styer’s game in New Orleans. Brad and Dr. Barnett were clearly amazed. It was a perfect illustration of Styer’s talents.

“So do you try to find the other cutout before Styer kills him?” Dr. Barnett asked.

“We won’t find him alive. As soon as we report the body to the police, their team will move in to clean this up. In the meantime, since the corpse is in your neighbor’s yard, we’ll get a lot of attention from the cops, and we’ll be slowed down.”

Alexa said, “Winter is right about these people. They don’t like Winter because he outgunned one of their teams and blackmailed them into a truce. We’re all vulnerable.”

“Look at what happened in Roswell, New Mexico,” Dr. Barnett said.

“So what do we do?” Brad asked Winter.

Winter said, “First off, Dr. Barnett, can you go back to your normal life and just forget this happened?”

Dr. Barnett stepped down onto the grass. “Not a problem. Just let me know if you need anything. And look after Brad. He doesn’t get this spy stuff like I do.”

The trio watched the doctor until he walked around the corner.

Winter told Brad, “The rest of the team that’s in the area will assume Styer got these two, and if they don’t know we’ve caught on to their presence, they should just keep monitoring us. Our vehicles are almost certainly wired, so we’ll let the bugs stay in place.”

“Brad, can you go along with this?” Alexa asked.

“Tell me what to do.”

60

Paulus Styer stood under the showerhead, letting the cold water wash a red river of blood down the drain. He was satisfied that the cutouts had been only monitoring Massey, the sheriff, and the FBI agent, figuring Styer would show up. That much they had certainly been right about. He smiled at the fact-which he had proved many times before-that the organized opposition was made up of lesser men. They had been on his trail for years and he had effortlessly stayed well ahead of them, leading them around by their noses and kicking them in their collective ass. Now he had killed two more of them. He hoped to kill a lot more before this, his last game played strictly for sport, was over and it was time to tally it all up.

He turned off the water and dried his false face off carefully, running the towel over his body and combing his wet hair. He checked the seams and was satisfied that they were hidden. Using the towel might dislodge the latex panel at his hairline. He studied his features in the mirror and went into the next room to get dressed so he could