The Directive Read Online Free PDF

that her dad had planted.
    She wasn’t the only one who didn’t like to think about the day I was forced to face down our former boss, Henry Davies. I felt fine enough, for the most part, but every so often—when I was trying to sleep, or riding home on the Metro—I would remember his face, like it was right in front of me, or picture the photos of his grandkids on his desk, or feel his fingers clawing at my wrists.
    From the work I had done at our old firm, even after all the bloodshed and the hard work of cleaning up the scandal, I had a reputation around DC as a competent political fixer. I was glad to leave behind the hard-core black bag stuff I’d learned at my last job. I could afford to pick and choose clients, for now at least, to take only the cases that let me sleep well at night and still cover my overhead. It was nothing like the money I was used to, but it was enough. You don’t find much better bargains than the ones you make with the devil. And if I really believed in the cause, occasionally I might use a trick I’d picked up from my old mentor: only a light touch, a little leverage, or perhaps absentmindedly failing to correct the impression that I knew someone’s secrets.
    With her mother gone, Annie’s grandmother—with her posh accent and coin-purse lips—had stepped in and was driving Annie crazy in the run-up to the wedding. It was the Clarks’ chance to show off their class and wealth to the wider world. The perfect day. The perfect daughter. The perfect life. And if the wedding and the need to make me a proper, respectable man with no sharp edges was starting to get to me, it wasn’t Annie’s fault.
    At the house, some nights I would watch the red glow of the numbers on the alarm clock, listen to the sleepless dark. Eventually I’d step out of bed, careful not to wake Annie, and leave the warmth of that body I loved so well. I’d walk down to the porch or just stand in the backyard, watching the sky, ignoring the bite of the cold spring air. I was afraid there was something out there, as basic as gravity, pulling me out of this peaceful home into the night.
    I hoped Jack would understand, that we could help each other out. That’s what had brought me out to his house tonight.
    But this was not what I had bargained for.
    I laughed and shook my head as I came down the stairs at Jack’s house. I’d been dragging my feet on choosing a best man, and Annie must have known it was because a little part of me hoped to have my brother up there beside me, the past forgotten, everything in its place. Jack would just have to stand there and hand me a little box. How badly could he screw that up?
    Here was my answer: Jack had pushed an armchair up against the front door. He stood to the side of the front window, peeking out the blinds, a bead of sweat running down his temple. I could see into the open kitchen, where the noodles were congealing in the pan. It was a nice interior scene, carefully arranged and suggesting a title like: “Waiting for someone to come kill me.”
    I ignored Jack, walked over to the range, and tried some of the pad thai.
    “This is great,” I said.
    “Thanks,” he replied, without looking away from the street.
    I sat on the couch and placed two bowls of noodles on his coffee table. I offered Jack one. He looked at me blankly, didn’t say anything. I twisted some onto my fork.
    “I’m in trouble, Mike.”
    “Really?” I said with mock surprise.
    He nodded, then glanced at the pistol.
    “Oh yeah,” I said, looking at the gun. “I was going to ask about that. I hope it’s not for me.”
    “No.” He went on in a monotone. “I was working a job as a courier, and I started to wonder if maybe this wasn’t just about security, if someone was playing both sides. I was worried I’d end up taking the fall for something big, someone getting hurt, you know? So I started looking into the people who’d hired me.”
    “Were you maybe thinking of fleecing