Iris Johansen - Dead Aim

"Even if he has the will, he may not have the skill. He screwed up this job." "Drop it. I'll make that determination." He managed to keep the edge from his tone. "Or are you volunteering to take over Runne's job at Z-3?" "No way," Jurgens said. "I'll let you know when we catch

Morgan." He hung up. No, Jurgens didn't want any part of it. Betworth didn't blame him. Only an obsessive son of a bitch like Runne would take on that job. Providing Betworth remained convinced he could do it. The Powers disposal had not been clean, and that's what he must have at Z-3.

Clean and deadly.

Clean. It had to be clean. Runne rolled the young intern's corpse into the hole he'd dug and began to shovel in dirt. Christ, his face hurt. He'd take some of the painkillers the doctor had given him after he finished, but the pain reminded him of his failure. And he had to remember so that he wouldn't repeat the mistake. Mistakes weren't tolerated. Carelessness was a cardinal sin. The shame of not being able to claim a clean kill with Powers was almost unbearable. It must never happen again, and no one must know he'd failed.

This kill had been clean. No one had seen him take the young intern at the hospital. No one had seen the death. Now he must smooth the grave and cover it with leaves.

The damn doctor had been too slow. Runne had threatened him, but his hands had been too shaky to hurry. Now it was too late to go back to Powers's house and hope to catch Morgan. But if he could keep Betworth from knowing of his shame, then he would be given another chance.

Ignore the pain. He deserved it.

Bury him deep. Smooth the earth. Cover it with leaves…

"Out," Chuck Fondren said as he opened the door of the truck. "I want to get away from here."

"Where are we?" Alex asked as Morgan helped her from the van.

"Prescott, West Virginia. It's forty miles from Huntington." The driver nodded at a rickety cedar house down the road. "That's your destination. This is where I was told to bring you." He threw the duffels to the ground. "Good luck.

I'm out of here."

"Thank you," Alex said. She couldn't blame him for being glad to be rid of them. He'd risked a good deal driving them here. But when Galen called, his people seemed to jump to it. She gazed ruefully at the ramshackle farmhouse as the moving van roared off down the road. "Have you noticed our abodes have been going downhill lately? You must have a talk with Galen."

"It's hard to get good help these days." He started down the road. "Personally, I'm just happy if there's no welcoming committee." He stiffened, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the bushes. "I spoke too soon. Who the hell is-"

Her gaze followed his to the man who'd come out onto the porch. She sighed with relief. "It's Logan. Don't you recognize him?"

"I've talked to him on the phone, but I've never met him in person." His body language was still tense. "And I'm not sure I like him dropping in. He looks pretty grim." He moved out of the bushes. "But we may as well find out what he wants. I doubt if he's brought the gendarmes." His gaze held Logan's as he strode toward him. "This is a surprise, Logan," he called as he neared the house. "And I thought you'd abandoned us." "I'd like nothing better." Logan's glance shifted to Alex.

"Are you okay? Galen said you'd had an accident."

"It's getting better. How's Sarah?"

"Furious. Ready to do battle with the FBI and the media."

He grimaced. "And me. Particularly me. After this idiocy came out about you belonging to a terrorist group, I had to confess and reassure her you were being cared for." He looked back at Morgan. "Though I wasn't sure it was true."

"I kept her alive. That's what you asked me to do." Morgan stopped in front of him. "Now, are you going to stand here sniping at me or are you going to help? Something very nasty is in the works."

"So I gathered from Galen. Why the hell do you think I'm here? We have to sort this out, and I couldn't do it long distance." He turned on his heel and headed for the screened front door. "You'll be sorry to know that the interior of this hog pen is worse than the outside. But come inside and we'll talk."

"Betworth?" Logan repeated slowly. "Powers mentioned Betworth?"

"You know him?" Alex asked.

"Charles Betworth. Congressman from Texas. He's been in Congress for the last fifteen years." "Then he's not been very visible," Alex said. "I don't remember ever hearing about him." "He prefers to work behind the scenes these days. He pushes nice noncontroversial bills on the environment and public health. He was the Democratic Party's great hope about thirteen years ago, but he got caught up in a campaign finance scandal. It says a lot about his personal charisma that he was able to overcome the stigma and get reelected twice." Logan's lips twisted. "But there's no way the party would ever nominate him for President with that dirty laundry in his background. I'm sure it's a bitter pill for him to swallow."

"Bitter enough for him to engineer the incident at Arapa hoe Junction?" "Not unless it would give him something besides revenge.

Betworth is consumed with ambition."

"Not money?"

Logan shook his head. "I think that campaign scandal was more about manipulation and power plays than cash. He comes from oil money. That's how he was able to gloss over the smears at the polls." He paused. "No, it has to be ambi tion."

"To what aim?"

"I've no idea. But I guess I'd better find out." He stood up. "I'll go to Washington and see what I can dig up. You're right, something nasty is going down." His lips tightened. "And it makes me mad as hell that the threat is coming from our own people. It's not enough we have to worry about the nutcases from outside our borders."

"You believe that Jurgens and some people in the CIA are involved?" Morgan asked. "I thought you'd balk at that. Alex did."

"I believe anyone involved in a power play on this scale would have wooed law enforcement. I believe that it takes only a few key people to lead a battalion where they want them to go. It's getting the key people and controlling them. I'm very uneasy that Betworth's in the picture."

"You seem to know a lot about him."

"He interested me. I could tell there was a hell of a lot going on beneath that schmooze. I've seen him come into a room at a party and immediately start working at attracting everyone with whom he comes in contact. He almost hypnotizes them. It may be calculated, but it never appears that way. He's bigger than life." He moved toward the door. "But then, so was Stalin." He paused as he opened the door. "I brought a box of groceries and a couple blankets for you. They're over there by the window. Galen said you'd need them here."

"Probably not for long. Powers said Z-2 was already in place. I hope to hell we can find out where it is before-" Morgan shrugged. "We've got to find it. No option."

"I'll call when I find out something," Logan said. "Try to keep from getting killed, Alex. It would upset Sarah."

"God forbid we upset Sarah," Morgan murmured.

Logan nodded. "Exactly."

Alex followed him as he walked around the house to a beige Saturn parked in back.

"Logan."

He paused, looking at her.

"Tell Sarah that I'm well. Tell her everything's going to turn out fine."

"Everything's got to turn out fine. My ass is on the line." He searched her face. "And are you well? Morgan is more of a rough diamond than I bargained for. He's treated you decently?"

She nodded. "But that's a bad analogy. There's nothing rough about him. He's pure Toledo steel." She tried to smile. "But as long as he's in my camp I've no quarrel with that. And, yes, he's treated me decently." She turned to go back inside. "Give my love to Sarah."

He hesitated before he said, "I had to do it, Alex. And I'm not sorry."