A Murder of Crows Read Online Free Page B

Defense Intelligence Agency, who is working in conjunction with the CIA and the NSA.”
    Given what the Operator had told him about the hacks, Hicks had assumed the NSA and the CIA were working together, but the DIA was a new wrinkle. “What would the DIA want with me?”
    “Not you, James. The Moroccan.”
    Hicks closed his eyes. Uh oh. “I checked the watch lists myself, sir. The prisoner wasn’t being watched by any agency.”
    “Not officially,” the Dean allowed, “but he seems to have been something of a pet project for the DIA for quite some time. They have had him under passive surveillance since his days aiding rebels in Kabul. They we unaware The Moroccan was even in the country until your Rambo imitation down in Philadelphia caught their attention. By tracing the associates of the dead men you left in your wake, they have determined The Moroccan is not only in this country, but is in the custody of some unknown entity. That entity is us, of course, but the DIA does not know that yet.”
    Hicks grew still. He’d gone down to Philadelphia and grabbed The Moroccan on his own, without proper tactical coverage. It was still a sore point between him and the Dean. “How, sir?”
    “You left a parking lot full of dead hostiles, James. Dead hostiles who were, in fact, on several watch lists throughout the world.”
    “But it doesn’t explain how they found me, sir.”
    “Because the DIA got hold of some security footage from the motel. Upon further analysis, they were able to identify both you and our prisoner.”
    Hicks checked his temper as it spiked. The Dean hated outbursts as much as he hated informality. “Impossible, sir. Our Operators went back and scrubbed every image off any camera feed in the area. They even scanned any cell phone footage of the incident shot by civilians. There’s no way they tracked me that way.”
    “Our Operators did their usual commendable job, but there was a camera we missed. It appears the hotel manager—one Mr. Edward Zimmerman—had installed a small security camera of his own in the motel stairwell. He told the authorities he had installed it in order to spot vandals trying to gain access to the motel via the parking lot door. He eventually confessed to installing it so he could film his illicit liaisons with various prostitutes who frequented the motel. The owners had installed a security camera in the office that was controlled remotely, so the night manager conducted his assignations in the obscurity of the stairwell.”
    Hicks pounded the table and dropped his head in his hands. That’s how they found him. And now they knew what he looked like .
    The Dean continued. “For obvious reasons, the camera was not tied into the main computer system of the motel and, instead, went wirelessly into Mr. Zimmerman’s personal laptop. In their haste to cover your involvement, our Operators missed it.”
    Hicks knew apologizing once again for his actions wouldn’t get him anywhere with the Dean, so he didn’t even try.
    The Dean went on. “If we had been given the opportunity to plan the operation properly, we would have detected the presence of the camera and handled it. Alas, you were in too much of a hurry to ‘get your man.’ Someday, I may be able to enjoy the irony of one of my best Faculty Members being undone by the illicit hunger of a grubby little man in a hot sheet motel, but today is not that day, James.”
    Hicks knew the Dean hated excuses, so he offered an explanation instead. “We didn’t have the time or the resources to plan a proper operation, sir. Grabbing The Morocan was worth the risk, so if nabbing him put me on the DIA’s radar screen, I can live with it.”
    “I have no doubt you can live with it, but can the rest of us? Can the University?”
    Hicks knew it was one of the Dean’s rhetorical questions. He wasn’t looking for an answer, and Hicks wouldn’t try to offer one.
    “Your carelessness aside,” the Dean continued, “we do have a