Chapter Two #3
“No. We don’t have an explanation, and his grandfather adds complications we don’t need.
There is no current intel supporting an assassin’s need to kill a billionaire’s grandson.
Kidnap yes. Kill, no. That leaves us with shadows to trace, and it’ll be complicated and difficult.
Tapping Niles will help. He knows things about Quaid’s life that even I don’t know.
” Mackey shook his head. “Plus, he’s off the books so no one would have seen him except here at the wedding.
I guarantee the sniper wasn’t checking the wedding guests.
He had his eye on one target. And that’s it. ”
“Agreed.”
Harrison went to the double doors, signaling Frank as he left.
Mackey fingered the bottle of water on his desk and found as much calm and nonchalance as he could manage. He eyed Frank Walker over the water bottle.
Frank paced to the desk. His face grim, the cleft in his chin offset a crooked nose – broken at one point or three – and blended with blue eyes that were cop blank.
His jeans and blue shirt were covered by his protective vest with his badge and gun at his hip.
They stared at each other like two gunfighters waiting for the dust to settle in the street so they could draw.
“Tell me what you have so far,” Frank growled, irritation ripe. “I’m getting too many phone calls about your stonewalling. Damn the day they figured out I’d met you two.”
Leaving out the part about Cait and Hunt’s house because neighbor Frank was an attack Doberman about the safety of his neighborhood, Mackey went through it.
“We’ll get you the pictures we have from the parking lot surveillance.
You can run your systems and see what you have.
We’re waiting for Quaid to make contact. ”
“You’re not worried?”
A part of Mackey wanted to explode, but he found a civil tone.
“Of course, I am, Frank. We all are. But Quaid is a trained operative. He’s not dead.
You don’t have a body anywhere. Your guys told me that.
He went under.” He didn’t mention Williams. It might not be necessary to hold so much back, but he followed his gut.
“What’s happening is anyone’s guess. I don’t know if Quaid recognized him.
My gut says no. But we’re tracing with our sources to see what whispers we get. Nothing so far.”
“Somebody tried to kill Quaid, point blank, and the gunman didn’t care whether he was seen.” Frank sat in Mackey’s one visitor chair and leaned back, for all purposes looking like a friend at a barbecue. Illusion.
Mackey debated a split second. “True. Or was banking on us not having access to his identity.”
“Which gives us a direction.”
“Possibly.”
“CIA?”
“They say no. Don’t recognize him, but we all know they wouldn’t admit it even if they did.”
“He left the wedding after I did. Was he armed?”
“No, but he had his fob. Jumped to his sports car. Switched at the Coronado Patton. Undetermined what he’s currently driving. I’m guessing he switched again, but not sure to what. We’re checking.”
“Get the plate. We’ll find it.”
Mackey pursed his lips. “Or we could wait.”
“For what? Another attempt? A bystander getting hurt? A death? No.” Frank’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”
“Quaid has sources all over the fucking globe. If he even got a glimpse of the guy, he’ll figure it out. Give him space.”
“I can’t give you any. My superiors are not happy about this shooting and want an identification made.”
“They aren’t alone, Frank. We only differ on the how.”
“Mine is centered on protecting the public and not having to explain why the SDPD couldn’t find a billionaire’s grandson.”
“We’re giving an experienced operative space to sort out who, what, and where. We’re working on what’s he’s driving. I’ll notify you as soon as we get more information. That’s the best I can do until he calls.”
Frank rose, rubbing his temple. “I guess that’ll have to do. Send me the picture of our assassin, and we’ll check official sources.”
Mackey text Harrison for the pictures. “Done. We’ll talk soon.”
Frank’s phone dinged and he glanced at the picture. “Enhanced?”
“A bit, but it’s close.”
“How about the video?”
“I’ll check with Harrison and get a copy for you.”
“I guessing you’re not telling me everything.” Frank grimaced. “Not that I expected you to.”
“We’re good at this, Frank. It’s not our first dance either. Let’s be friends and work this the best way for both of us.”
“Nice olive branch, Reynolds. Follow your own advice.” Swift strides to the door and he was gone.
Mackey gazed across the quiet office. There wasn’t a day when Quaid didn’t plant himself in the visitor’s chair and gripe about it’s lumpiness.
Elizabeth would arrive and curl up on the sofa.
Harrison frequently stood and paced, stretching his back, and anxious to get back to the Operations Center.
Cait always kicked off her shoes and sat with Elizabeth. He missed them.
And the silence wasn’t helping. No one came after his best friend and lived to tell the story. That was the one thing he hadn’t admitted to Frank. The assassin, whoever he was and whatever his reason, was a dead man.