Matt Hilton - Dead_s men dust

"Go ahead." He rolled his neck, then turned to his computer screen and studied it with way too much intensity.

"When you?nish up, I got a call to make, too," Rink said. He was standing behind Harvey, and I saw him reach out and grip his friend's shoulder. Rink's never patronizing; his gesture was more one of reassurance. "Can you look me up the number for the Arkansas Humane Society, Harve? Gotta drop 'em a tip concerning illegal dog?ghting on their turf."

Harvey nodded, then bent to the task.

"If you'd prefer I didn't use your phone, I'll go?nd a public phone," I said.

Harvey returned his gaze to mine.

"Go ahead and use it, Hunter. If the CIA is involved, you can bet your ass they're already aware of my involvement." He rocked back in his seat, resigned. Nerves made him more effusive than usual. "Makes no difference if you conduct your business from here or anywhere else, they'll have you hooked up in less time than it takes you to dial the number. If you've got anything to say that you don't want them to hear, I suggest you forget about phone calls altogether."

"Yeah," I agreed. But I wasn't concerned. Truth is, it didn't matter what the CIA overheard, considering that it was one of their controllers I was about to call.

A number I hadn't used in over four years leaped straight from my memory to my?ngertips. From the handset, I heard the beeping of a long-distance connection as it bounced via service providers and satellites throughout the world. A phone?nally rang in a nondescript of?ce in Langley, Virginia.

The call was picked up by an electronic answering machine, which gave me options and asked me to key in a twelve-digit number. Again from long-term memory I typed in the sequence. The line went dead for a split second. In that unfathomably short space of time recording devices kicked in. It didn't matter. Then came a purr as the connection was made. The phone was picked up after only three beeps.

"This better be good," grunted a man's voice.

"That'll depend on your perspective," I grunted right back.

"My perspective is always from the bottom of a deep dark place, you should know that by now."

My laughter was humorless. "You should get out more. Get a little sunshine on your face. You spend too much time in your little cubbyhole."

"Tell me about it," the man said. Over the line came a minuscule shift in the white noise as buttons were clicked. "You can speak now, Hunter. Line's secure."

"I've got a favor to ask," I told him. "So much for the pleasantries, huh? Straight down to business. Even after all this time." "No time for pleasantries, I'm afraid. It could be that we're sitting on opposite sides of the fence on this one."

I heard the creak of leather: Walter Hayes Conrad IV shifting uneasily in his chair. By that subtle shift of his body, I knew I'd struck an uneasy chord with him.

"Opposite sides of the fence? I thought you were no longer in the game, Hunter?"

"I'm not in your game."

"So you're still retired?"

"Retired, yeah, but not out to pasture yet."

"I take it this is a private job we're talking about, then?"

"It was private until I heard some of your boys might be involved." "Oh?" Walter shifted again, and I could visualize him reaching for the on switch for the recorder. "Just give me a minute before you make our conversation public," I said.

"Like I said, Hunter, the line's secure."

"Yeah, so let's keep it that way for now?"

"You know I can't promise you that, Hunter. If this concerns one of our operations, I can't let it go off the record."

I sniffed. "All I'm asking is that you con?rm if the CIA is involved."

"That'll depend."

"I appreciate that. I'm not asking for speci?cs. A simple yes or no will do."

"Then the answer's no."

"Is that what you term plausible denial?"

"Nah, there's nothing plausible about it."

"You're right there," I said. "Considering I haven't even told you what job I'm involved in."

"There's no need. I haven't heard your name mentioned, Hunter."

"Well, there's a surprise," I said.

"We did wonder what you were doing on our home soil," Walter said. Walter doesn't offer information for nothing.

"So you knew I was in the country?"

"Of course. What kind of intelligence community doesn't track foreign agents?ying in?"

"I'm not a foreign agent, Walt. I'm retired. Remember?"

"Same difference."

It wasn't overly surprising that my presence in the USA had rung warning bells. Neither would it surprise me if Walter had already made calls to my old commanders at Arrowsake to check that I wasn't back on the payroll of the British government. Or-worse case scenario- that I was on someone else's payroll.

"You needn't worry, Walter. I haven't turned to the dark side."

Walter laughed as if he were choking on a bitter pill.

"So what's the deal? I know you hooked up with Jared Rington. Believe me, Hunter, we dropped it there. Not interested."

"Rink's with me now," I said. "He says hi."

"I'm sure he does," Walter said scornfully. All part of the act.

"I?nd it hard to believe that you aren't wondering what I'm up to," I said.

"To be honest, we ain't the least bit interested. Far as we're concerned you're here visiting your old buddy. We're prepared to leave it at that. So long as nothing else comes to our attention."

"Appreciate it, Walt. But now that I have come to your attention, how are you going to play it?" Walter sucked air through his teeth. Not the nicest sound in your ear. "Depends on the job you're about to describe."

"The one you've already told me you're not involved in?"

"One and the same."

"Figures," I said, paraphrasing Rink. "I take it that what you're not telling me is that you've no one in Little Rock, Arkansas." "I don't doubt we've got agents there, Hunter, but not on anything you're involved in."

"You're sure about that?"

"How can you doubt me? I don't have anyone on your case. Okay?"

"Okay, that's good enough for me." I paused, considering my next words. It was a gamble mentioning anything about the job I was involved in, but it was probably too late for that now. By calling Walter, I'd guaranteed that the CIA would indeed be watching me from now on. "What about my brother, John Telfer?"

Up in his of?ce at Langley, Walter Hayes Conrad IV went silent.

"I take it by your silence that his name means something to you?" Walter breathed into the mouthpiece. Was that remorse? "It does, Hunter, but not for the reason you're thinking." "I'm thinking you've got guys on him." "Nope. It's not that at all."

Judging by the ache between my eyebrows, my face was fertile ground begging for a frown. I was afraid to ask. "What is it then?"

"I take it you haven't looked at the TV lately?"

"No time for TV."

"Make time. If you're interested in John Telfer, you'd better get yourself acquainted with CNN. Telfer's currently their number one news slot."

I turned from the phone. "You got a TV, Harve?"

"Got one at home. Why?"

"What about your computer? Can you get CNN?"

"The news channel? Sure."

"Do me a favor and log on, will you?"

Harvey's eyebrows danced toward his shaved head. Rink was watching me expectantly. A shrug was all I offered before turning my attention back to Walter. "I'm just about to take a look now."

"Might explain a thing or two."

"So what's the deal?" I asked him.

"Take a look and make up your own mind."

"Fair enough," I said. "But you're telling me this isn't anything to do with you?" "No matter how many ways I tell you no, you're still going to have reservations, Hunter."

"Old habits die hard," I told him.

"You doubt my honesty, but that's okay, I don't bear any grudges. If I were in your shoes, I'd be the same. For the record, I'll say it again. Then it's up to you…" His breath came slow and steady. The pause was not for his bene?t. Bad news was coming. "The CIA is not on your case. We're not on your brother's case. But then again, I can't speak for the rest of the civilized world. Or the FBI, in particular."