The door opened to the smiling blonde woman. At a guess, she was in her early forties but exceptionally beautiful in a fragile way.
“Morning. The security guard warned me someone would be coming to check the intercom system.” She stepped aside. “Please, come in.”
Billy returned her smile, quite taken by her friendliness and heavy British accent. He set the toolbox down and took out a screwdriver. He glanced at her as he dismantled the unit against the wall.
“From your accent, it sounds like you just moved here from the UK?”
“You'd be correct.” She looked around the luxurious interior. “This belongs to the company my husband works for. It’s beautiful but not ideal for our kids. We’re thankful they offered it to us while we’re searching for a home closer to their school.”
He kept the conversation light and friendly. Rosalyn Thomson was a well of information, and by the time he left, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was nothing more than a housewife who doted on her family.
Billy was caught in a quandary as they checked out of the hotel and took off to the airport for Washington DC. He couldn’t let go of the suspicion that there might be more to this than misinformation. The Order had no way of knowing exactly to what extent Nesser took Billy in his confidence, which meant he could be seen as a threat to SPEONUS. He didn’t have enough information to know where to look for them, but he did have names that could split at least two of the esteemed executives to the Federal government.
“It’s time to ramp up the game, motherfucker."
He waited until they were booked into a nondescript bed and breakfast on the outskirts of DC before he made contact.
He logged into his dark web account and sent an email.
I don’t work with false information. If you wish me to continue, get your facts straight. I'm not wasting my time.
He smirked as the sat phone rang minutes later.
“You're very demanding for an assassin, Hewitt. I'm beginning to wonder if you're as good as Nesser claimed." The voice sounded hoarser than before and he could detect a glimmer of anger in the tone.
"I'm better, which is why I'm very selective with who I work. I don't know you and so far, I don't have a warm feeling about you. Supplying false intel on a target? Sorry, I don't operate that way."
"What do you mean by false intel? We gave you what we found on homeland security." His use of the word we, confirmed Billy’s suspicion that he wasn’t the one in charge like he’d claimed during their first communication. It angered him. He hated to be underestimated.
“I’m not prepared to talk about this over the phone. I’m in DC. If you wish to discuss the two targets further, meet me in an hour at the Hillwood Estate Museum by the fountain on the left of the building.”
“I have no intention of meeting you. Do you think I’m a fool?”
“Then I suggest you find another assassin for the job.”
Billy cut the connection with the voice rasping in his ears.
“Mongo, let’s go. It’ll take us thirty minutes to get there and I want you set up before he arrives.”
“You sound sure he will.”
“I have a hunch, and as you know my—”
“Hunches are never wrong. Do you think it’s wise? What if he brings strong arms with?”
“I expect him to.”
Mongo just shook his head but followed him outside to the rental. The trip to Forest Hills was quiet, so was setting up the video recorder in the tree facing the fountain. Mongo settled on a thick branch with a laser spot rifle. He was Billy’s trump card. Nothing stays an attempt at threats like a red spot in the center of a man’s chest.
“Stay alert, Mongo. Someone is heading this way and judging by the stiff suit and shiny black shoes, he’s definitely a politician.”
Billy watched the man unflinchingly as he approached. He wasn’t concerned about being spotted. With the silicone face mask and dark blonde wig, his disguise was top notch. No one would associate the weathered face of someone who had seen hardship with the smooth complexion of the actual assassin.
“I pictured you differently,” the man said as he stopped a couple of yards from Billy. His gaze slithered to a spot behind Billy and he smiled.
Billy returned it with a grin of his own and lowered his gaze to the red spot flashing in the center of the man’s electric blue tie. He followed his gaze. His gasp sounded like a melody of fear to Billy’s ears.
“Yes, I also came prepared. I suggest you call off your dogs. Believe me, before they squeeze the triggers, all three of you will be dead.”
His eyes widened and Billy smirked within himself at accurately assessing the number of eyes he could feel drilling into his back.
“Retreat. I don’t need you,” he rasped in what Billy assumed was a combination ear and speakerphone piece.
He gestured to his ear. “Hand it over.”
His reluctance was evident but he duly removed the small piece and threw it at Billy. He crushed it beneath his boot.
“I’m waiting. Who are you?”
“Who I am is none of your business. I’m here to discuss the targets. Let’s get on with it. What do you want to know?”
“I don’t trust a client who jumps between two targets, especially since the first one was supposed to be a matter of urgency. Not to mention she’s a small-time target, so, what makes Cece Roux more important?”
“You got the background when you were assigned to Stone Sinclair, so you know why we want them eliminated. Cece Roux offers us an opportunity to draw them out.”
“How?”
“She’s Parker Sinclair’s girlfriend.”
“Stone’s brother?”
“Correct. If you kill her, it’ll draw them out in the open.”
“How do you figure that?”
“From intel we received, she’s more than a fling. Parker is head over heels in love with her. For one, he’ll be devastated and as their main IT specialist and developer, it might give us the break we need to penetrate their servers. Secondly, it’ll draw out the entire Sinclair clan in support of Parker’s loss when they attend the funeral.”
“I see.” Billy studied the man intently. He looked familiar but he couldn’t place him, which also confirmed that he wasn't wearing a disguise. With the photo Mongo took, he’d be able to find out who he was. One more name to add to the hat.
“The only problem is, Cece Roux doesn’t exist,” Billy said. “She doesn’t live at the address you provided and the photo you gave me is a different woman than the one on her driver’s license and definitely not the one in residence.”
“Fuck, I suppose we should have expected as much. It must be the Sinclairs who created a false identity to keep her safe.” He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Billy. “Stake out these docks in Key West and Key Largo. We just received intel that indicates Cece, or whoever the hell she is, shops at one of them at least once a week.”
Billy stuffed it in his pocket.
“Why did the first target drop from urgent to second in line? Dancer is a cyber ghost, what danger does he or she pose to you?”