Chris Mooney - World Without End

His secretary, a bubbly, beautiful redhead named Robin Tigges, came inside the office holding a silver tray with milk, sugar, and plates for the croissants. She was dressed in a gray power suit and wore a gold watch and tasteful gold loop earrings. She placed the tray on the small table next to Conway's chair and then left the office, shutting the door behind her.

Booker sat behind a mahogany desk that was the size of a moat. A small, white circular device the size of a fire alarm was on his desk.

He pressed a button and the light on the device turned green.

"It's safe to talk, even if you're wired," Booker said, his tone all business.

"You wired now?"

"Not anymore."

"Where is it?"

"The items are stored inside a freezer bag inside my gym bag at your condo."

Conway sat in one of the two oversize leather chairs backed up against the wall. Behind Booker were windows partially overwhelmed by the view of a drab, gray-concrete skyscraper. As Conway stared at the world outside, he replayed the events from Austin, John Riley's death, and meeting Angel Eyes all of it so overwhelming, avalanches threatening to topple. Where to begin?

"Why you wired?" Booker said.

Conway looked back at Booker, who chewed his gum, waiting for an answer. The man sitting across from you is the last remaining member of your family, a voice said. His wife and his kids have been targeted. No more secrets, Steve. You owe it to Booker, and you owe it to Riley. Fuck protocol and get it all out in the open. Now.

"I can't help you unless you talk," Booker said.

"I work for the CIA."

Booker stopped chewing his gum. The skin stretched tight across his face. His eyes were motionless. It was the first time Conway had seen his friend surprised. Booker leaned forward in his chair and spread his arms across his desk.

"You telling me you're a spook?"

"It's a unit called IWAC," Conway said.

"Information Warfare Analysis Center. We deal with technology proliferation. We're after a guy known only as Angel Eyes. He's been stealing high-tech, cutting-edge military weapons stuff that could destroy a nation if it got in the wrong hands."

"I got ex-CIA guys here. Never heard of IWAC."

"That's because it doesn't exist."

"Black op?"

"Something like that. We're not on the radar screen."

"Explains why you moved around so much, why you couldn't stick around here. Got to keep the secrecy thing going."

"In part."

"Yeah, the other part is you enjoy playing the emotional nomad. Don't like to let anyone in. CIA loves guys like you. No family, no kids or connections, you get wiped off the planet nobody going to start asking the wrong questions."

"I met Renee Kaufmann yesterday."

Booker leaned back in his chair.

"Goddamn, you're full of surprises this morning. And it's only nine."

"She left a note for me at the funeral home. She asked me to meet her yesterday. Alone. At the Aquarium."

"Let me guess. That picture of the guy in the tank on the newspaper and on the news, that was you."

Conway nodded.

"Who blew the hole in the tank?" Booker asked.

"Pasha Romanov, an IWAC member who is supposed to be dead."

"And the shark food?"

"A Russian mobster named Misha. He was looking for the decryption code for a high-tech military suit that uses a technology called optical camouflage. The company in Austin Praxis they were developing this technology along with the army. The operation went south. I was inside the lab when it went down."

The guilt that had been festering inside his chest rose again, swelling, like a tidal wave about to come crashing down, overwhelming in its intensity. He tried to push it back and a voice said, Get it all out in the open. He looked back up at Booker.

"I thought I hit the speed dial to call for our backup team. I accidentally called John Riley."

Booker stared back for a moment, unblinking, and then slowly turned and faced the window. Outside, a plane climbed high into the blue sky. On the opposite building, the sun reflected like balls of white fire in the dozens of windows. Several minutes passed. The Miles Davis song ended and the CD player shifted to another compact disc, some classical thing.

"Renee didn't want to put you or your family in danger, that's why she wanted to meet alone with me," Conway said.

"The people who killed Riley, Renee saw the entire thing. My name was mentioned. I was the next target. That's why she wanted to meet me.

They think I know the code."

"Do you?"

"I think so."

"So now they see you hanging around me and my family, and they're going to come after us. Use us as a bargaining tool to get the code from you."

"That's the way it looks."

"Where's Renee now?"

"I have no idea," Conway said, and felt suffused with guilt again, as if he willingly led her into the slaughter. It wasn't supposed to go down like this.

She could be alive. She'd make a powerful bargaining chip.

Conway took in a deep breath and then said, "She saw the entire thing, Book. And she recorded it."

Booker turned around.

"Video-conferencing software," Conway said.

"She burned it onto a CD. It's stored in a safety deposit box. At the Eastern Bank on Broadway in Lynn."

"So why didn't you drive there and get it? You got CIA backing you up, why you here telling me all this?"

"The people who killed Riley…" Conway's face clouded. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor.

"I think these people are on my side of the fence."

"You know this for a fact?"

"Yesterday, at the Aquarium, one of Angel Eyes's men saved my life and then warned me about my boss."

"Angel Eyes," Book said.

"That's the dude from Texas who blew up the airport parking lot."

Conway nodded, rubbed his palms together. He told Book the rest of what happened in Austin. When he was done, Conway said, "All this time, I've been told that Angel Eyes killed Riley out of revenge, to bring me here to Boston."

"Because Angel Eyes wants the decryption code."

Conway nodded.

"Before I met with Renee, I was supposed to meet with my handler. Only it was Angel Eyes. Right there he had the opportunity to create some clever lie and take me in. But he didn't. He let me go so I could rescue Renee."

"And you believe, what, he's on your side?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

"One thing I do know. A contact I got in the department, I bumped into him last night. The cops who were shot at the Aquarium weren't real cops. They're Russian gangsters."

"I want to get inside that safety deposit box. Can you get me an ID with Riley's name on it?"

"I can have that made within an hour. Now we need to make arrangements."

" We don't need to do anything. This is my mess. I'll clean it up."

"With what? You just said your boys are dirty."

"I don't know that for sure."

"But you will when you see the CD. You expect me to sit here and leave you to fend for yourself? Not my style, hoss."

"These guys are pros. They wipe people off the board without getting their hands dirty. Go home and be with Camille and " "Camille and the boys are going to stay home. They're covered, and they're safe." Booker picked up the phone and hit an extension.

"Bobby? Gather up the boys and meet me in my office." Then Book hung up the phone and looked at Conway from across the desk, his eyes veiled.

"All this time, you've been a spook." Book grinned, flashed his white teeth.

"Never would have guessed that one."

I have a feeling my employment days are numbered, Conway said to himself.

"I need a phone, preferably one with one-twenty-eight-bit encryption," he said.

"I got access to stuff the NSA boys can't crack. Who you need to call?"