The God's Eye View Read Online Free PDF Page B

eighteen and was about to graduate from the juvenile correctional center in St. Charles, Illinois, to the maximum-security adult facility in Pontiac. It said a lot that Remar was nervous about him. Because Remar, who had fought his way back from wounds and endured pain that would have killed most other men, wasn’t nervous about anyone.
    Manus ignored the taunt and looked to Anders for his cue. Anders glanced at Delgado and said, “Go.”
    Delgado hesitated, then stood and sauntered past Manus, eyeing the larger man up and down as he moved. He paused so Manus could see his lips, then said loudly, “Glad we’ll be traveling together. I’d miss your scintillating conversation.”
    Manus watched him leave, saying not a word. Anders knew how to handle Manus, of course, but even so he sometimes found his stillness . . . disquieting. Especially when it was in response to something that would have produced some evidence of anger in an ordinary person.
    Anders gestured to a chair, then simultaneously signed and said, “Marvin. Thank you for coming.” The courtesy was deliberate. With Manus, it was powerful currency. And though he knew Manus was an excellent lip-reader, whenever he could he still tried to add some of the bits of American Sign Language he had learned, because he knew how much Manus appreciated his efforts.
    Manus nodded an acknowledgment and lowered himself onto one of the chairs, gripping the arms gingerly as though concerned he might inadvertently snap them off.
    “You’re going to Istanbul,” Anders said. “Same military plane as Delgado, different assignment when you get there. General Remar will give you an encrypted file with all the particulars. This is only a snatch. A journalist, presumably not security conscious, presumably unarmed. It doesn’t matter if he sustains some damage when you take him, as long as he’s alive and basically intact.”
    “What do I do with him?” Manus’s voice was low and sonorous, the pronunciation slightly off because he couldn’t hear himself talking. Overall, his tone offered no more clue to the thoughts behind it than did the more customary silence.
    “You’re going to turn him over to a group of Turkish middlemen who have contacts on the other side of the Syrian border. General Remar is arranging the logistics now, and I’ll brief you in the air as soon as I have details. Any questions?”
    Manus offered a single shake of his head.
    Not a surprise. If there were more Manus needed to know, Anders would have told him.
    Anders looked at him. “How are things with Delgado?”
    There was a pause. “How do you mean?”
    The tone was as neutral as a flat-lined heart monitor.
    “He’s got a lot of hate,” Anders went on. “But he’s useful to me.”
    Manus nodded.
    Anders sighed. “I appreciate . . . what you sometimes put up with.”
    Another nod. But Anders sensed the loyalty behind it. The response to what might have been the only kindness this man had ever really known.
    “When you’re back,” Anders went on, “I have something else for you. An employee about whom I have some . . . doubts. I want you to keep an eye on her.”
    Manus frowned slightly, perhaps dubious. It wasn’t the type of task for which Anders ordinarily employed him.
    “Her little boy is deaf,” Anders said. “It might provide an opening for you, a way in.”
    The frown smoothed out. “All right.”
    “Of course she’ll be monitored electronically, but she’s smart, she’ll be sensitive to that. I’m looking for something else.”
    “What?”
    Anders drummed his fingers along the desk. “I’m concerned what’s about to happen in Turkey might upset her. And I want to know . . . is she satisfied? Settled? Content? Or is her conscience troubling her? Is she a team player? Or is she starting to think of herself as an outsider? We learn a tremendous amount from SIGINT, yes, but there are people who forget the human aspect, the unquantifiable, the ghost in the