Page 47 of One Minute Out

Yeah, any way you look at it... this blows.

FOURTEEN

Kenneth Cage sat in a plastic chair, staring at the girl dancing in front of him. She moved with grace, but with a look of intensity on her face that would tip off an expert that she was struggling to remember her moves.

She stopped and bowed, and the crowd clapped politely.

Ken Cage, on the other hand, stood up and cheered.

Juliet was his twelve-year-old daughter, after all, and as far as he was concerned, she was magnificent.

Soon he sat back down and watched the next girl at his daughter’s ballet recital take the stage.

He knew he’d be stuck here for another hour, but just as he steeled himself to endure the rest of the damn dancing, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Heather glared at him as he looked down to it, but when he saw who was calling, he turned away from her and left the room.

His bodyguard moved into position behind him, radioing the driver of the Mercedes outside that the principal was moving.

But Cage didn’t go to the G-Wagen. Out in front of the Hollywood dance studio, he moved over to a bench and answered the phone in an angry tone, while his bodyguard remained a few feet behind.

“Not the best time, Jaco.”

“Sir, I need this encrypted.”

The American sighed, tapped a couple of keys that encrypted the call on his end, and said, “What’s up now?”

“It’s about the Balkans.”

“I told you to handle that.”

“I need someone who can make a decision, sir.”

Cage sat on a bench by the parking lot, his head sagged. “Dammit,” he said, while looking around to make certain no one was in earshot. “What’s the fucking problem now?”

Jaco’s voice was its usual businesslike tone. “It was thought the killings in Bosnia were associated with an assassination attempt on the man running the way station. Something unrelated to the pipeline.”

“Some uber assassin, right?”

“Yes, sir. But if that were the case, we’d expect that man to be long gone from the area where the killings happened, and we’d also expect him to pose no more threat to the pipeline.”

“But?”

“But by all reports, the man who killed Babic the other day also kidnapped the Mostar police chief this afternoon, local time.”

The American replied with, “And why does that interest me in the slightest?”

“Because Chief Niko Vukovic worked for the pipeline.”

Cage felt hot anger welling within him. “So... you are saying someone is fucking with my operation.”

“It seems that way, sir. The entire police force in the Mostar area is looking for their chief, of course, so I hope to have news before long. If he’s recovered alive, then—”

“He’s been grabbed by an assassin. Finding him alive doesn’t sound very likely, now, does it?”

“No, sir. But even if he isn’t recovered alive, we can hope for clues. Obviously, the cops will turn the area upside down looking for the assassin whether he keeps Vukovic or kills him and dumps the body.”

Cage said, “Is this something Kostopoulos can handle?”

“No, sir. I know a lot about this mysterious Gray Man. He’s just too good.”

---