The Beltway Assassin Read Online Free Page B

Cox,” Burkowski said. He didn’t bother to match Shelton’s quicker pace as he continued. “What’d you do to get on the Counterterrorism Division’s radar? I thought you were with Major Crimes.”
    Shelton ground to a halt and put his hands on his hips. Cox was a big name in the FBI, responsible for numerous arrests of terrorists around the world since long before 9/11.
    “Damned if I know,” Shelton said.
    His cell phone buzzed with a text message. Shelton pulled the phone from his pocket as he walked toward the command truck. There were a half-dozen texts from his wife demanding to know where he was and when he’d be home, and one text was from a blocked number.
    He opened the message from the blocked number, which read: “Act Natural”
    The command truck was even more crowded than it had been this morning, Cox’s entourage adding to the scrum.
    At six and a half feet tall, Cox towered above the crowd. His salt-and-pepper hair was so perfect that agents often joked he was getting ready to run for president. Cox caught sight of Shelton and waved him over. Shelton pushed into the conversation circle and froze when he saw someone he’d thought was gone from his life forever.
    Eric Ritter, an FBI badge hanging from his neck, stood next to Assistant Director Cox. Ritter nodded along to Cox’s words, which were lost to the stunned Shelton. Ritter cast a glance at Shelton and winked.
    “Agent Shelton, glad you made it here,” Cox said. The tall man wrapped an arm around Shelton’s shoulders and guided him over toward Ritter. Cox had a gentle air to him, which was at odds with the stony grip he kept on Shelton.
    “Shelton, this is Agent Gamil,” Cox said, nodding toward Ritter. “Gamil is out of our Jordan office and is one of our most knowledgeable agents on all things al-Qaeda.”
    Ritter held out his hand to Shelton. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
    Shelton felt anger simmer in his heart. He’d known Ritter for years. Known him during their first deployment to Iraq in 2004. Known him between deployments and known him since Ritter helped recover two soldiers al-Qaeda had kidnapped during their last tour in Iraq. Their last parting, when Shelton had confronted Ritter with evidence that he’d murdered an Iraqi ally, had been anything but amicable. Shelton knew for damn sure that Ritter wasn’t “Agent Gamil.”
    He shook Ritter’s hand and squeezed it so hard, Ritter’s lip twitched.
    “Same,” Shelton said. This wasn’t the time to confront Ritter about his false identity; for all he knew, Cox was in on it.
    “Gamil’s been overseas and undercover for the last decade,” Cox said. “He knows terrorist bomb-making techniques backwards and forwards, but he needs a partner who knows the area and the ins and outs of the analysis side of the agency. We’re lucky he was back in the States for leave when this crime happened. You’re partnered with him for the rest of this investigation,” Cox patted Shelton on the shoulder.
    “I want you two to look at this case from the outside and use your Iraq War experiences to guide you. You two are independent from the rest of the investigation. Interact with the rest of us when you need to. Got it?” Cox squatted down to put his eyes level with Shelton’s.
    “Yes, sir,” Shelton said. He wasn’t too far removed from army life to question orders from a superior, and challenging Ritter’s identity right then and there struck him as a bad idea.
    “Shall we?” Ritter pointed through the crowd and back to the last house Shelton had been about to canvas before the interruption.
    Shelton, his face rigid and hands clenched, walked the opposite direction from what Ritter had indicated and moved at a quick step past the police cordon. He strode to his car and opened the passenger-side door. He stared daggers at Ritter, then got in on the driver’s side.
    Shelton sat in the car, his hands white-knuckle tight on the steering wheel.
    Ritter sat in the passenger