Page 5 of Stuart Woods' Golden Hour

She separated the halves, exposing the body from head to stomach.

While bruises and cuts vied for space on the man’s torsoand face, it was the slice across his throat that undoubtedly ended his life. Even with all the damage, however, there was no question that the victim was Owen Pace.

“One of yours?” de Coster asked.

“He is.”

“I am sorry.”

“Thank you. Was he searched?”

“He was.”

“May I see?”

“Of course.”

She led him to a portable table on which sat a clear plastic bag holding Owen’s belongings. Without opening the bag, Rick pushed the items around so that he could see everything—a thin wallet, some coins, a few hundred euros, keys, and a business card.

It was this final item that caused his jaw to tense. The only thing on the card was a stylized letterTprinted in black.

Rick had been right to come here himself.

He turned back to de Coster. “Thank you.”

“The police will have to process the body,” she said.

“I understand. If you could ask them to contact my office as soon as it’s released, I’d appreciate it.”

“I will.”

When he returned to his car, his driver asked, “Home?”

“I’m afraid my day’s begun already.”

“The office, then.”

“Please.”

Rick raised the privacy divider and called CIA Director Lance Cabot.

“Is it Pace?” Lance asked.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“The business card was there.”

“So there’s no chance his death is a coincidence.”

“None whatsoever.”

“Then we have a serious problem.”

After hanging up with RickLa Rose, Lance pondered how to proceed. A conventional route, using only Agency resources, would be the safest bet. But safe meant slow, and in this case, slow meant more deaths, likely many more.

There was a potentially quicker way of ending the assassinations of his people. If successful, it could drastically cut down the number of dead. The only problem was it would mean involving someone no longer associated with the CIA, a man who might not be keen on working with Lance.

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