Exile Hunter Read Online Free PDF Page A

between mouthfuls of tabbouleh.
    “Okay, whatever,”
Denniston continued, helping himself to the spare bottle of Perrier
on Linder’s breakfast tray. “The point is, Mormon Joe is the only
rebel Philip Eaton has even considered meeting face-to-face in more
than six months. It’s only after you spent the last two months
posing as Joe Tanner with expats all across Southern Europe that we
finally attracted Eaton’s attention. For some odd reason, the
Mormon Return Movement has piqued his interest.”
    “I still don’t get
it,” Linder replied. “Of all the rebel causes, why would Eaton
care about the forced relocation of Mormons from Utah?” Linder
asked. “His ties have always been to the Great Lakes.”
    The disguise technician
waved Linder over to a chair she had carried into the bathroom so she
could shampoo, cut and color Linder’s hair. He wolfed down the
remaining tabbouleh, then followed her with Denniston in tow.
    “Maybe because the
Great Lakes insurgency has been moribund for over a year,”
Denniston answered a moment later. “And because Eaton’s prime
contact in the Cleveland militias has gone missing. Which means that
Eaton is sitting on a war chest with no troops to spend it. For
somebody committed to overthrowing the Unionists, that can’t be
very satisfying.”
    “Maybe so,” Linder
agreed. “But that still doesn’t mean he’ll back Tanner. Eaton
is too smart to let the money burn a hole in his pocket. He’d
rather wait for the right deal to come along.”
    “Even if he does, I
think Tanner is still our best bet under the circumstances,”
Denniston asserted. “The MRM carries a compelling story and, if we
can get Eaton to make even a single wire transfer, Headquarters will
be able to trace the money back to the source and grab it.”
    “And if Eaton doesn’t
bite?”
    “We back off and take
a different approach,” Denniston continued. “We’ve got too much
riding on Tanner and the MRM in other exile sting operations to risk
compromising them with Eaton.”
    “Maybe we should
request electronic surveillance to follow the chatter among the exile
networks.”
    “Done that,”
Denniston agreed. “We’ve also got audio and video coverage of
Eaton’s living room, dining room, and kitchen if you get that far.
If the listening post picks up any sign you might be at risk there,
we could have a security team dressed in Lebanese gendarme uniforms drop in within fifteen seconds.”
    “I like that,”
Linder nodded.
    “All right, then,”
Denniston addressed the disguise expert, “Let’s go, Chiquita.
Time to turn this man into Joe Tanner.”
    “If you call me that
one more time, frat boy, I’ll deck you,” the woman replied
without looking up. “My name is Rosita.”
    “Well, excuse me,
senorita. My Spanish, it not so good,” Denniston replied
offhandedly and turned away.
    An hour later, the
disguise artist raised a mirror to Linder’s face. He had become
accustomed to this transformation in recent months. His usually dark
brown hair, eyebrows, and beard stubble were now a light brown or
dirty blond; his brown eyes were covered with blue contact lenses;
and his bite and his diction were altered with a dental prosthesis.
He wore a charcoal business suit over a starched white shirt and
regimental tie and, while resembling the stereotypical Latter-day
Saints missionary, also could have easily passed for one of the
legion of Russian or German businessmen who frequented the city’s
commercial districts.
    Once Linder and the
technician had compared the details of his transformation to control
photographs and initialed the disguise checklist, Denniston dismissed
her and remained behind for Linder’s final briefing before the
afternoon meeting with Kendall. Under normal circumstances, far more
time would have been allotted for the final pre-op briefing, which
would have been preceded by days of study and rehearsal. By
comparison, the preparation for this operation had been