The Second Shooter Read Online Free PDF Page A

Favreau said over his shoulder. "We'll lose them in the subway."
    Another block, and they jumped on the long escalator down to the Metro Center station. When they reached the bottom, they found the red line train about to leave the station as the recorded announcement warned passengers to clear the doorways.
    Jake saw the two suits halfway down the escalator. The train doors hissed and sprang closed. Jake jammed his arm into the nearest doorway and felt the edges of the twin doors bite into his forearm. The doors hissed again. A red warning light flashed as another recorded announcement, this one in a more urgent tone, warned that the doors were being obstructed. Passengers standing inside the car shouted at him.
    "Little help," Jake said over his shoulder.
    Favreau dug his fingers between the doors and pried them open. He and Jake squeezed through. The doors hissed a final time and snapped shut. Other passengers glared at them. Jake heard someone behind him say, "Impatient motherfuckers." The train rolled. Jake stared out the window at the two suits sprinting across the platform. He reached into his pocket and wrapped his hand around the grip of the Beretta. The two men were just ten feet from the doors when the tunnel swallowed the train car.
    The hot stares of resentment from the other passengers had mostly faded by the time the train reached the next stop three minutes later. Everybody had better things to worry about, Jake figured, than a couple guys jumping on the train late.
    As the train pulled out of the Chinatown station, Jake said, "We're getting off at the next stop."
    "Where are we going?" Favreau asked.
    "My office."
    Favreau nodded.
    Two minutes later, the speakers announced the next stop, Judiciary Square. Jake's hand was still in his pocket holding the pistol. "You get off first," he whispered to Favreau.
    "As you wish."
    The train ground to a stop. The doors hissed and sprang open. Jake followed Favreau out of the car and up the escalator to 4th Street. "Which way?" Favreau asked.
    Jake pointed north. They walked along the sidewalk.
    "I was telling you the truth," Favreau said. "I shot President Kennedy in Dallas on November 22, 1963."
    "Lee Harvey Oswald shot Kennedy."
    "You're right," Favreau said. "Oswald did shoot him. But he didn't kill him. I fired the last shot, the fatal one. From behind a fence on top of a small hill."
    "The grassy knoll," Jake said, his voice cutting in its sarcasm. "You shot President Kennedy from the grassy knoll."
    "That's what they called it later, yes."
    "You're talking about the head shot."
    "Yes."
    "Why did you do it?" Jake asked. He just had to keep this nutjob talking until he could walk him into the heavily secured, fortress-like FBI Washington Field Office, which spanned the entire next block of 4th Street, between F and G streets.
    "I was working for the CIA."

Chapter 7

    "I didn't believe him, of course. I thought he was nuts. But I figured that within a few minutes he wasn't going to be my problem anymore. Once we got to the WFO, I was going to lock him in a holding cell and call my supervisor."

    ***

    "Can I see your ID, sir?" the uniformed guard said.
    Jake stood behind and to the side of Favreau in the secured foyer on the ground floor of the seven-story FBI Washington Field Office. The guard stood inside a rope line, next to a walk-through magnetometer. A second uniformed guard stood in front of a monitor and the controls for an airport-style scanning device for personal belongings, with a conveyor belt running into its depths.
    Jake didn't recognize either of them. He reached for his back pocket to get his credentials. The pocket was flat and empty. He patted his jacket pockets and felt the Beretta 9mm but not his leather credential case. Then he remembered flashing his badge at Suit Number One on the sidewalk outside the diner. Right before the man hit him in the stomach. Jesus, I lost my badge and my gun.
    "I, uh, don't have my ID on me," Jake told the guard.