Tom Clancy Duty and Honor Read Online Free PDF Page B

gave him a few dollars but felt kinda stupid, you know.”
    “Why?”
    “I came in early for my shift last night, about seven-thirty,and I saw him get dropped off, right down there.” She pointed toward the far end of the building.
    Seven-thirty, Jack thought. A half hour before he arrived. Good timing. Here was another habit he’d let slip—that of varying his daily routine to make himself a harder target for both surveillance and ambush.
    She said, “It was a real nice car, not a beater or anything. I figured if he had a car like that or had a friend with a car like that, he shouldn’t be creeping for money.”
    Jack frowned. “I’m sorry he did that. He’s got problems, if you know what I mean.”
    “Yeah, I get it.”
    “What’d the car look like?” he asked.
    “White, newer, like a Nissan or Toyota. Midsize, I think.”
    “Did you see the driver?”
    She shook her head. “Wait a second. There was something on the news . . . Wasn’t some guy hit on Kings Highway last night?”
    “Really?” Jack replied. “Did they describe him? Did he have ID?”
    “No, I don’t know. Sorry. You could call the police. I hope it’s not him, but maybe . . .” She let the words trail off, tilting her head in sympathy. “I gotta go.”
    “Thanks,” Jack said as she disappeared through the doors.
    White midsize car. Did the headlights silhouetting his mystery man the previous night belong to this car?
    —
    J ack drove home, parked in the garage, then took the elevator up to his floor. The doors parted, revealing the vestibule. Sitting on the leather bench against the far wall was Doug Butler.
    Jack stepped out. “Hey, Detective,” he said tentatively.
    Butler stood up. “We gottatalk.”

ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
    H ow did he get back on Butler’s radar? He’d already given the detective a statement over the phone, one that seemed to satisfy the cop. Jack went through the possibilities: He’d contradicted his earlier statement; a witness had come forward; they’d found trace evidence on the scene that put him there. Inwardly, Jack winced. He was thinking like a criminal. He didn’t like the feeling.
    He unlocked his door and stepped inside, with Butler following. Jack flipped switches on the wall, illuminating the kitchen and living room. He stepped into the kitchen. “I was about to ask how you got up,” Jack said, “but you’ve got a hell of a hall pass, I guess.”
    “Comes in handy,” Butler replied.
    “You want something? A beer, coffee—”
    “Yeah, a beer’d be good. So, what do you carry?”
    Jack turned. Butler was standing in the archway, hands shoved in his pants pockets. “What?” asked Jack.
    “In your hip holster.”
    “Glock Twenty-six. I’ve got a permit.”
    “I know you do. Were you carrying when we met at the Supermercado?” When Jack nodded, Butler gave a sad shake of his head. “Can’t believe I missed it. Getting old.”
    “I paid extra for the Holster of Invisibility,” Jack replied with a grin.
    Butler snorted—not quite a laugh, but as close as he got to one, Jack suspected. He grabbed a pair of Heinekens from the fridge and handed one to Butler, who unscrewed the cap and took a swig. He held up the cap. “Garbage?”
    “Counter’s fine,” Jack replied, and took his own sip. “You want me to ditch the gun?”
    “Nah. Just don’t draw on me. Might give me a heart attack. Nice place. You rich?”
    “Everything’s relative.”
    “You work at a financial company, right? Hendley something?”
    “Hendley Associates. Yep. Arbitrage, analysis, that sort of thing.”
    “Sounds interesting.”
    “Everything’s relative,” Jack repeated. “I’m on a kind ofsabbatical, I guess you could say.” This was the first time he’d explained his situation to anyone outside of his family.
    Sabbatical. Forced leave of absence. Each term was accurate enough in its own way, but in essence, Gerry Hendley had told him to go to his room and think about what he’d