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Eagle.
One of the most high-profile assassins in the country—maybe even the world.
“Impossible,” I said, turning to face him. Our gazes met, his serious eyes confirming that he was telling the truth. I resisted the urge to rub my neck. The chief shook his head as if he didn’t quite believe his own words.
“Robert was the one who found him. He’d been working on it for years...undercover.”
“Himself? Alone?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t surprising, actually. Eagle was worth only the best of our force, and, as much as I hated the lieutenant, he was a sharp knife and on the right side of the law. Hunting Eagle was no easy task. A few stations had already given up on trying, simply leaving the cases unfinished, locked behind closed doors, so they could allocate their scarce funds on cases with more hope. That was how good Eagle was. No other wanted criminal came close to that man’s level of skill and intelligence. He was nicknamed after the creature with the best eyesight on the planet. And that is exactly what he was. An eagle-eyed sniper. Not a man who killed randomly, but one who could do it from such a distance, nobody would have thought it possible if forensic evidence hadn’t proven it. The strange thing about Eagle was also that he killed only male politicians or high-profile mob members. Not a single woman or child were ever among his victims. It was rumored that he hadpowerful benefactors, as high as the White House.
Yet he was one of the most wanted men in the nation, with politicians breathing down our necks and making promises of gold and glory to the station that caught him.
I slowly walked around my chair and sat down again. It was still wet from my soaked shorts.
“TheEagle, huh?”
“TheEagle.”
“It would be a one field-cop undercover operation with only you and the lieutenant in on it, I assume?”
The chief nodded. “We still have a few dirty cops in Boston. The mob is getting smarter every time we do. The fewer folks in on it, the better.”
“I’d come in as a new member to his criminal circles via one of our snitches?”
That was the most common route. We catch one of them, and bargain out reduced sentences in return for bringing us in. I expected a simple yes from the chief, but instead, he decided to spice things up.
“No. That’s not how it is this time.”
“What? That’s how it always is.”
“Well, not this time.”
I was seriously confused. I leaned forward in my chair. The chief pushed the file he’d been reading earlier over to me. I caught it just before it slid off the desk and onto the floor. I bit the inside of my cheek as I looked at the first page: a large photograph of a young woman. She was smiling as she held up a dirty kitten; the dumpster she had most likely pulled it out of was blurry in the background.
I looked at the chief, my forehead furrowed. “Is this a joke?”
“I’m afraid not. The woman on the picture is our target: Mila Kowitsch.”
My brown eyes dropped to the picture again. That smile, so honest and sweet. Her eyes sparkled bright blue behind glasses; her long, brown braid was hanging over her shoulder. She was in top shape. Long legs, great figure. Not a model face but pretty in her own way. I frowned at myself. She was a target. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her looks. She was the suspect. This cute woman. Eagle… This was absurd!
I felt that heat of irritation spark within me. Was the chief really trying to make me believe that this woman was Eagle? A cold-blooded killer?
“If you want me to believe this woman is the sniper from the FBI’s most-wanted list, you could at least give me a picture of her hitting kids on a playground or something, not one where she’s saving a goddamn kitten!”
I threw the file back onto the desk.
“Nobody said that she’s the sniper,” my chief snapped at me. “It’s her brother we’re after. Andrei Kowitsch.”
“Then why didn’t you give me a file on him?”
“Because we have nothing on him. Absolutely nothing. He doesn’t exist. He’s like a ghost. No birth record, no driver’s license, not even a freaking speeding ticket.”
“Then how do we even know he’s the target?”
The chief cleared his throat, validating all my concerns. “Robert swears on it. He won’t give up his source.”
