Heart of the Assassin Read Online Free PDF

She shrugged. "It was fake, but even so..."
    More interference onscreen, then the image stabilized on a brass plaque etched with the words Watergate Hotel, the plaque dented where it had been pried off a wall. All kinds of sex scandals at the Watergate, politicians grinding away like millstones. Cut to the front page of a newspaper...yellowed and brittle but real paper, The Washington Post ...children pictured frolicking in a fountain...the date was July 18, 2015, the day the dirty bomb went off. I got a few of these babies, one to a customer. Put your bid in fast.
    Sarah leaned forward. "Pay attention."
    Static onscreen for at least ten seconds, then the image returned to a completely different location, the image flipping, more static. Julia, put this up on the restricted section of the Web site. Eyes only, client BK-271. She has the access code. The light bounced off the walls of a half-collapsed tunnel, claustrophobic, the zombie's breathing heavier now, his decon suit scraping against the sides as he scooted forward on his belly. Are you seeing this, Sarah? If...if I'm right, this is going to change everything, just like you wanted, he said, trying to catch his breath. The light bounced off a small hatch at the end of the tunnel. Fumbling sounds and the zombie's laser torch snapped on.
    The wallscreen went dark, then came back on, a ragged cut around the hatch now. The zombie beat on the hatch with a small hammer until it fell into the space beyond with a crash. He scooted forward. Dust shimmered in the camera beam, reflected off the inside of a larger room, the image jumping wildly. The steel hatch had fallen beside an antique desk. Oil paintings on the walls...men in high ruffled collars and clerical garb, serious faces, most of them in profile, their eyes fixed on something unseen. The beam touched the slightly ajar door of the secure room...heavily reinforced, touchpad locks, DNA encryption, all useless now. This is it. I knew...I knew I'd find it if I just kept...kept searching. Sound of the zombie trying to squirm through the tight opening.
    The light moved across the room. A pair of flintlock dueling pistols rested in an open case against the far wall. Another case showed parchment under armored glass. The light beam swept the room, the zombie looking for something. A large painted wooden globe, the continents wrong somehow. On the floor...something white, a skeleton hand emerging from the sleeve of a dark blue suit, the rest of the man hidden behind the desk. A gold wedding band gleamed among the finger bones. Near the hand...a small chunk of wood on the floor. A bud vase lay on the desk, directly in the zombie's line of vision; any water had long since evaporated, but the red rose was intact. Yes, yes, yes, there it is.
    "What's with the flower?" said Leo. "I didn't think there was anything alive in D.C."
    "There's not," said Sarah. "I've seen cherry trees from the tidal basin offered for sale, some even with blossoms intact. They look perfect, but the whole tree disintegrates as soon as someone tries to move them."
    "Then why's he so excited?" said Leo.
    "It's not the flower he's excited about," said Sarah.
    Spider looked over at her, then back to the wallscreen.
    The zombie tried again to get a shoulder through the narrow opening, camera jiggling on the raw metal. Gonna need...Oh...shit. The zombie turned the camera on himself, used his light to see something. Damn. The man blinked behind the scratched plexi-hood, clutched at the tear in the shoulder of his homemade decon suit. He fumbled out a quick-patch, slapped it over the metallic fabric, but the tear had spread down his arm, the material weakened from years of toxic exposure. The man looked into the camera, his breath momentarily fogging the hood. Sorry...I'm sorry. His yellowed teeth chattered, but he clamped his jaw shut, held himself together. Even through the transmission static they could see the effort it took, but he managed it.
    The camera