the seat. He pulled out his wallet and slipped the photo out.
His other life. His family. Beautiful young wife, adorable children. They lived in the perfect home in the perfect neighborhood and had all the money they would ever need to be happy. He could be with them right now. Tucking his kids in. Making love to his wife. Having a scotch in his study while reading a good book. He could do that for the rest of his days and be extremely content, euphoric even.
But here he was on a plane that would be flying to yet another destination where he would risk life and limb for the greater good.
Kent ran his finger against his wife’s picture.
A female passenger sitting next to him, who had observed what he had done, smiled. “I know. I miss my family every time I leave too,” she said.
He smiled and then turned away.
A few minutes later the plane zipped down the runway and lifted into the air.
Kent had been on many flights, from patched-together choppers in the jungles of Vietnam where every tree seemingly provided cover for Viet Cong trying to take the aircraft down, to 747s that had whisked him across the globe in luxury. But in each instance when he’d gotten on the ground he had been prepared to kill. And quite often did.
He unfolded the paper and looked at the front page.
Howard Decker was still alive—in the photo, that is. His eyes were open. He was smiling. His wife was by his side at some social function that required outrageously expensive formal gowns for the women and cookie-cutter penguin suits for the men.
In reality Decker was on a slab at the D.C. morgue with part of his head missing. He would never smile again.
Kent had known nothing of the hit but he agreed with its execution. Loose ends tied up. The weak separated from the rest of the herd.
They were near the end of this and nothing and no one was going to interfere with the desired result. Too much time in the planning. Too many obstacles avoided. Far too much at stake.
It was Super Bowl Sunday. All the hype was over.
It was time to play the damn game.
CHAPTER
72
DUBLIN, ROBIE AND REEL HAD to admit, was a fortress. They had been here less than twenty-four hours and they could already tell. They had done every possible recon and feint to test the security perimeter around the G8 conference, and there was not one weakness to be found.
They were in Robie’s hotel room overlooking the river Liffey. He was at the window with a pair of binoculars, staring across at the hotel center where the conference’s main events were taking place. It seemed as if there were more security personnel than G8 attendees.
“What about the non-G8 elements?” asked Robie as he lowered the optics and looked over at Reel, who sat in a chair by the door.
“Basically sequestered. And Vance didn’t have it exactly right. The security for those folks is being provided by the G8. Their own security details were not invited.”
“And they were okay with that?”
“If they weren’t okay with it they didn’t get to come.”
“So if the hit is coming it’s an inside job coming from Western resources,” noted Robie.
“Not necessarily. There’s nothing preventing a terrorist attack coming separate from the conference. Or there could be a terror cell in Dublin right now.”
He shook his head. “I’m telling you, something is definitely not right.”
“I have the same feeling.”
He sat on the bed, faced her. “We’re missing something.”
“I get that, I just don’t know what.”
He rose.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To find what we’re missing.”
Robie left the hotel. Within fifteen minutes he was outside the area where the G8 conference was being held. The security perimeter was dense and multilayered. He had no chance of getting inside it without the proper credentials.
As he was standing there, two men came out of one building inside the security perimeter. They had on suits, but also were wearing traditional Muslim headwear. They did not get into a car or cab. They simply walked. Robie assumed they were part of the non-G8 delegation.
He looked at them as they passed by and decided to follow them. It might pan out or it might lead to nothing. But nothing was what he had right now.
He slipped in behind them. They eventually entered a hotel and went straight to the bar. They were forbidden by their religion to drink, but for some Muslims that edict disappeared