THE GUARDIAN (Taskforce Series) Read Online Free PDF

Imam Zakariya, who was small and spry and reminded Jackson of an African witch doctor with his eternally youthful face, dismissed them for their free time.
    “Peace and blessings,” he called as all the men but Corey bolted for the exit.
    Jackson pushed out of the sandstone mosque into a sultry August evening. It was not yet dark but the lights over the basketball cage blinked on in anticipation of nightfall. Turning his back on his peers, he darted to his dorm to don his running shoes.
    The parolees had been granted freedom to roam within a two mile radius of the campus from six to nine in the evening, starting from their first night here. Given their isolation in the country, the two-mile limit restricted them from visiting Mechanicsville proper. Jackson had made a habit of going running during that time, in a circuit that put him a mile up Highway 235 and another mile down an access road that ran deep into a deciduous forest. There, beneath the power lines, he touched base with Ike Calhoun via his tiny cell phone. Toby, who stayed in a motel in town, had met him deep in the woods once, so Jackson could describe the imams’ patterns in a more detailed way than texting permitted .
    Leaving the campus at an easy lope, he arrived at the lush, isolated spot where he usually placed his calls. Slowing to a walk, he swept the shadowed undergrowth before sticking in his ear bud and dialing his team lead. “Hey, Pops. You got news for me?” he huffed .
    “The girl you asked about, was she driving a 2010 Jeep Wrangler?” Ike sounded as dour as he had that afternoon .
    “Yeah, that’s her.” Jackson ’s heart pumped with confidence. The Taskforce would send out some discreet soul to bargain for the release of those photos. His cover would be safe again.
    “The vehicle belongs to a Peter Schlesser,” the Taskforce lead added, “forty-eight-year-old single male living in Columbia Heights .”
    At the unexpected news, Jackson listened more intently. So, maybe the bombshell had borrowed the car, only Ike’s terse tone assured him that her connection to Peter Schlesser wasn’t good news .   
    “He’s the Editor-in-Chief of Crime and Liberty , which is a fairly reputable tabloid,” Ike bit out .
    Oh, hell, no. Jackson was well acquainted with Crime and Liberty . The tabloid took a strong civil rights stance, putting it in the same category as Libertarian News . While it enjoyed national circulation, most of its readers lived in Northern Virginia .
    He pinched the ridge of his nose. The bombshell had looked him right in the eye and lied to him! And now his photo might show up in a publication read by college professors and human rights activists nationwide, but most especially in the capital where he lived and worked. Hundreds of people would recognize him—his neighbors, folks from church, members of the PTA. . .
    “We have to find her,” he grated.
    “We’re working on it. I need a physical description.”
    “Late twenties, with dark, wavy hair, and kind of exotic-looking. Greek, I think,” he guessed .
    “There are a couple women on his payroll who fit that description.”
    “Why don’t we just ask Schlesser?”
    Their encrypted speech was slipping, but here in the woods that wasn’t too critical .     
    “Schlesser’s on vacation. Office is closed. And he’s not answering the cell number I tracked down.”
    Jackson turned full circle under a darkening sky. “There has to be a way.”
    “There is. We track down the couple of women who fit your description. I should be able to reclaim those pictures by tomorrow.”
    Tomorrow wasn’t soon enough. “What if she uploads them to their website tonight?”  
    “She can’t. We crashed their server. Nothing can get in or out.” 
    Jackson ’s temples throbbed. It looked like a waiting game no matter what they did. “Text me when you have more news,” he requested .
    “Will do.” The call ended abruptly.
    Jackson realized he hadn’t even