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“Things you and your partner need to know. Things that I’ve found out.”
“Why are you suddenly playing nice?”
“Because I don’t know if I can trust anyone on my side.”
“That’s a hell of a statement coming from an FBI agent.”
“It’s a hell of a situation.”
“Where and when?”
“Ten o’clock. I’ll give you directions.”
She took down the information, started to walk to her truck but stopped.
This was all a little too fishy.
She pulled out her phone, called Sean. It didn’t go through.
“Crap!” She thought for a few moments and then called another number.
“Dobkin,” said the voice.
“Eric, it’s Michelle Maxwell. How would you like to provide me with a little backup tonight?”
CHAPTER
47
“THEY RECRUITED YOU?” exclaimed Sean.
Kelly Paul nodded. “Not to be the Analyst. I was smart, but my mental acuity did not come close to the level required.”
“What then?”
“They wanted me to run the program.”
“They? You mean Peter Bunting?”
She rose. “How about some coffee? I know a place close by where we can talk in private.”
It wasn’t a café or restaurant. It was a one-bedroom apartment three blocks off the park on a normal-looking residential street where little kids probably played on the sidewalk during good weather.
The inside was no more than what one needed to survive. It had a door with locks, a window, a kitchen, a bed, a TV, and a toilet. No paintings, no drapes, no plants; there was the original gray carpeting, eggshell white walls. A few pieces of furniture.
Paul made the coffee and brought two cups with sugar and cream into the living room. The decision to seek shelter had been a good one. The rain now lashed the window, and there were rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning.
Sean looked around the space while he sipped the hot coffee. “This yours?”
“Not just mine, no.”
“Shared facilities?”
“Everyone’s budget has been cut.”
“Must be nice to actually have a budget.”
She eyed him over the rim of her cup. “You would think.”
