a black Kawasaki Ninja with neon-green highlights. When the young driver removed her matching helmet and shook out her long brown hair, I saw that she was beautiful too. I could hear Oscar laughing all the way from Virginia. “Achilles, I presume. I’m Jo Monfort.”
Granger had trained me to act and react quickly and fluidly, so when she tossed me a helmet, I caught it with a smile. This was far from the situation I’d been expecting, which involved a SUV loaded with equipment and a driver who could take down a whole bar without removing the cigarette pursed between his lips. At least I could be certain she wasn’t former Foreign Legion. “Pleasure to meet you, Jo. Nice bike.”
“You’ll be glad we have it. Traffic is horrible this time of year, and parking is worse. Much better to tail someone on two wheels than four.”
I was tempted to ask if she was speaking from experience or just textbooks, but simply said, “Good idea.”
Jo wore black leather boots and pants, topped with a gray leather jacket that was more runway that roadway, tilting her overall look toward fashionable. It was a versatile outfit, a good choice, and the coal-gray matched her eyes, which hinted at a fire within. “Thanks.”
She handed me an earpiece. “We’ll be able to talk using these. Hop on. Emily’s plane is on approach.”
I already had an earpiece linking me to Oscar. I considered swapping it with Jo’s, but ended up sticking hers in my left ear instead. I needed to monitor both. It was starting to get crowded in my head.
I’d ridden plenty of sport bikes over the years, but never on the back. The rear seat rose about four inches above the driver’s, which combined with the seven or so I had on Jo, put my head above hers like a totem pole. My arms were long enough that I could have easily grabbed the handlebars as well, but that wouldn’t work so I had to hold on to Jo instead.
Tethering a two hundred twenty pound weight to a hundred and twenty pound post didn’t make a lot of sense. Neither did placing the bike’s center of gravity so far back. The short drive to Jo’s selected observation point in the terminal’s shadow was enough to make that obvious. She hit the kickstand and said, “You should sit up front.”
“The physics do appear to favor that arrangement.”
As we switched, Emily’s plane taxied into its disembarkation position near the VIP parking lot. “I’ve got a monocular in the left pannier if you want it,” Jo said.
“Thanks. What else you got in there?”
“A couple of suppressed Glocks, some flash-bangs, a lock-picking gun, a directional microphone, and a Range-R radar system.”
Range-R radar looks through walls like X-rays through flesh. Very cool. The new unit looked like a heavy-duty smartphone, and was a literal lifesaver in breaching situations — for the good guys. The bad guys, not so much. “They gave you the latest goodies.”
“We do tend to keep up with fashion here, if nothing else. What’s our mission?”
“What did they tell you?”
“Just that we’re following the passengers of a private jet in hopes that they’ll lead us to a high-value target. Also that Director Rider is personally watching this one, so it’s make it or break it for my career.”
Jo was modest and direct. My opinion of her was growing by the minute. “What were you doing before the CIA approached you?”
“Long story. Who’s the target?”
“Ivan the Ghost.”
“Who?”
If Jo didn’t know Ivan, she wasn’t former DGSE or DGSI. In fact, she wasn’t coming from any law enforcement agency in the northern hemisphere. “He’s the guy you go to when you need dirty deeds done discretely, and you’ve got seven figures to pay for it. We think he’s Russian, thus Ivan , but we’re not even sure of that. No one ever sees him coming and he never leaves a trace, thus The Ghost .”
“Until now, I gather.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why the Director is
Granger had trained me to act and react quickly and fluidly, so when she tossed me a helmet, I caught it with a smile. This was far from the situation I’d been expecting, which involved a SUV loaded with equipment and a driver who could take down a whole bar without removing the cigarette pursed between his lips. At least I could be certain she wasn’t former Foreign Legion. “Pleasure to meet you, Jo. Nice bike.”
“You’ll be glad we have it. Traffic is horrible this time of year, and parking is worse. Much better to tail someone on two wheels than four.”
I was tempted to ask if she was speaking from experience or just textbooks, but simply said, “Good idea.”
Jo wore black leather boots and pants, topped with a gray leather jacket that was more runway that roadway, tilting her overall look toward fashionable. It was a versatile outfit, a good choice, and the coal-gray matched her eyes, which hinted at a fire within. “Thanks.”
She handed me an earpiece. “We’ll be able to talk using these. Hop on. Emily’s plane is on approach.”
I already had an earpiece linking me to Oscar. I considered swapping it with Jo’s, but ended up sticking hers in my left ear instead. I needed to monitor both. It was starting to get crowded in my head.
I’d ridden plenty of sport bikes over the years, but never on the back. The rear seat rose about four inches above the driver’s, which combined with the seven or so I had on Jo, put my head above hers like a totem pole. My arms were long enough that I could have easily grabbed the handlebars as well, but that wouldn’t work so I had to hold on to Jo instead.
Tethering a two hundred twenty pound weight to a hundred and twenty pound post didn’t make a lot of sense. Neither did placing the bike’s center of gravity so far back. The short drive to Jo’s selected observation point in the terminal’s shadow was enough to make that obvious. She hit the kickstand and said, “You should sit up front.”
“The physics do appear to favor that arrangement.”
As we switched, Emily’s plane taxied into its disembarkation position near the VIP parking lot. “I’ve got a monocular in the left pannier if you want it,” Jo said.
“Thanks. What else you got in there?”
“A couple of suppressed Glocks, some flash-bangs, a lock-picking gun, a directional microphone, and a Range-R radar system.”
Range-R radar looks through walls like X-rays through flesh. Very cool. The new unit looked like a heavy-duty smartphone, and was a literal lifesaver in breaching situations — for the good guys. The bad guys, not so much. “They gave you the latest goodies.”
“We do tend to keep up with fashion here, if nothing else. What’s our mission?”
“What did they tell you?”
“Just that we’re following the passengers of a private jet in hopes that they’ll lead us to a high-value target. Also that Director Rider is personally watching this one, so it’s make it or break it for my career.”
Jo was modest and direct. My opinion of her was growing by the minute. “What were you doing before the CIA approached you?”
“Long story. Who’s the target?”
“Ivan the Ghost.”
“Who?”
If Jo didn’t know Ivan, she wasn’t former DGSE or DGSI. In fact, she wasn’t coming from any law enforcement agency in the northern hemisphere. “He’s the guy you go to when you need dirty deeds done discretely, and you’ve got seven figures to pay for it. We think he’s Russian, thus Ivan , but we’re not even sure of that. No one ever sees him coming and he never leaves a trace, thus The Ghost .”
“Until now, I gather.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why the Director is
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