Page 131 of To Die For

Devine slugged the man, bouncing his head off the hood. Hastings lay there out cold like a side of beef about to be sliced and diced by the butcher.

Devine holstered his weapon. When he turned around, he saw a terrified elderly couple watching him.

They backed away in fear.

Thinking quickly Devine said, “They, uh, they took my parking space.”

He threw the baton in his car, climbed in, and honked at the three unconscious men as he drove off to meet a cold-blooded killer in a bookstore.

CHAPTER

61

THE BOOKSTORE WAS FAIRLY FULL,and Devine watched as moms and dads with young kids, older people, and what looked to be college students searched through the stacks of tomes on shelves, browsed the music department, or hit the small café for sugar and caffeine.

Devine was simply trying to find the girl on the train, but had no idea what she would look like this time. As he glanced around, Devine was also wondering if Glass would send out a hit on him after Devine had cratered his security crew in a parking garage.

He finally figured if he sat at the same table he’d been at before, she would signal him, or make herself known somehow.

However, no one approached him. After ten minutes he was about to get up when two people strolled over and sat down at the table. A man in his fifties and a woman in her forties. He was in a smartly tailored blue suit with no tie and she had on dark slacks and a purple turtleneck sweater with a long black coat over them.

“Mr. Devine?” she began crisply.

He looked at them. “And you are?”

In answer, she opened her purse and pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across.

Devine unfolded it and read off what was the very same message that had been slipped under his door earlier, purportedly from the girl on the train to meet here today.

“Who are you and why do you have this?”

“We were the ones who slipped that note under your door at the hotel,” said the man.

“And how did you know what to write in it?”

The man glanced around. “This is not really the place to go into all this. We have a car outside.”

“I don’t get into strange cars. I’ve found it bad for my health.”

The man pulled out a small black leather case from his suit coat pocket, laid it on the table, and opened it. The woman did likewise.

Devine looked down at the credentials and then up at the pair.

“That confirms I will never get into your car,” he said. “Central Intelligence is not really on my best buds list at the moment.”

“We always do get the bad rap,” said the man with mock jocularity. “In the movies we’re looking to murder half the world. And on TV we kill the other half. I’m Will Chambers, and my colleague is Angela Davenport, as our credentials say.”

Davenport leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “Before we get down to business on this matter, Devine, I wanted to personally thank you for clearing up the death of Jenny Silkwell in Putnam, Maine.”

Devine looked at her in surprise. “You knew Jenny?”

He noted the woman’s lips trembled at his query.

“She was actually my protégée. I hoped to see her take my spot in the hierarchy in due time. A wasted talent and life. You riskedyourlife to clear it up. You have my gratitude and respect, sir. And that of the entire Agency.”

She put out her hand, which he slowly shook.

This was all delivered with such sincerity that Devine was a bit taken aback.

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