Page 43 of The Ghost Assassin

“You don’t have clearance for that information and that was years ago.”

“Do you want to die, Ellis? If not, I need to stop flying blind and see the entire picture.”

His expression tightens. “I’ll work on clearance.”

“How long does that take?”

“A week, maybe two.”

“You could be dead by then,” I say, holding nothing back.

“I could go to jail and risk starting a war with Russia if I tell you. They believe he died a long time ago.”

“Is Russia behind this?”

“My prior conclusion stands. We have no intel that suggests that to be true. And Director Rodriguez was not director of the DOD at that time. The man who was, has since retired and passed away of old age.”

“I’m going to need the names of everyone that dealt with Russia and Murphy.”

“As I said—”

“You’re more afraid of jail than death. I don’t find that answer honest or transparent.”

The vehicle pulls up in front of a mansion of a house and halts, and the interesting part to me about our stop is there are no emergency vehicles or yellow tape, no reporters, and no sign this is a crime scene at all. And since I trust none of these people, my hand settles on my weapon where it rests under my jacket. “Where the hell are we?”

Chapter Thirty-One

Ellis draws on me and so I draw on him, each of us one finger pull from death.

“What is this, Agent?” he demands. “What are you doing?”

“You drew on me,” I say, my heart barely skipping a beat. I’m calm and cool. I’m facing forward. I have a direct shot at him and the driver, but any fun that would be is ruined by the look in Ellis’ eyes. He doesn’t want to shoot me. “After taking me to a strange house, where I could become the next victim.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, woman. It’s Marie Rodriguez’s house. We’re keeping the location free of emergency vehicles because we can’t risk attention on the house, and murder, until you get me answers. The ME already left. The forensics team is still working, but they’re in unmarked vehicles parked inside the gate.”

“Then why draw on me?”

“You went for your weapon.”

“My hand was on my weapon, as training dictates if I assume a threat, which clearly was you, since you drew on me.”

He huffs out a breath and lowers his weapon, holstering it. I follow his example and wait for what comes next, as that move is on him. He waves at the driver. “Give us a minute.” The driver exits the SUV and shuts us inside alone. Ellis looks me in the eyes and says, “I’m sorry. I’m on edge. It’s not like me to be trigger-happy.”

On the surface, the apology is what would be expected, right in every way, but it somehow feels wrong. Someone of his caliber should not be this jumpy even under threat. It’s weird. “Trigger-happy is a good way to get killed.”

“So is doing nothing. Which is why I’m going to aid the investigation. I’m going to walk the scene with you.”

“Just don’t fuck anything up,” I say.

“I will try not to fuck anything up, Agent.” He knocks on the window, and the driver returns and soon we’re traveling a circular drive and pulling up to the front of the house.

“Everyone’s cleared out. The coroner is on standby. We had to get in and out to avoid attention. I gave instructions to leave the body until you clear the scene.”

In other words, evidence has been picked through and the site could be tampered with. “We checked cameras already, I assume?”

“They were looped,” he says. “Just like the cameras at Murphy’s building. I still owe you notes on what we did with Murphy’s investigation.”

“You do, especially since you’ve handcuffed me by pulling the locals,” I say. “I usually use them. I trust Chief Houston.”

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