The Rook Read Online Free

twenty seconds of footage.
    Since visiting the Blue Lizard Lounge in November, he’d tried to uncover Shade’s real identity, but so far none of his contacts had been able to dig up anything specific, and since Creighton had skipped town, his former lawyer Jacob Weldon wouldn’t even return his calls. So Creighton hadn’t discovered anything about his mysterious new friend, and, although he would never have admitted it to anyone, that troubled him somewhat.
    All of their communications had been through voice-altered phone calls, text messages, and dead-letter message drops. All very cloak-and-dagger, which made Creighton think that he—or she or whoever—was probably a spy wannabe.
    But maybe not a wannabe.
    Maybe the real thing.
    Anything was possible.
    Creighton pressed “pause,” then rewound the video. Played it through to the end. Adjusted the focus, then pressed “record” once again.
    For the first few weeks, it had remained a complete mystery to him why Shade had chosen him for this specific job. But when Shade finally explained the grand scheme to him and then started naming names, he’d seen the beauty and irony of it all. Yes, he was the perfect person to do it.
    Really, the only person.
    He pressed “pause.”
    There.
    That was it.
    Yes, just a slight glint off the glass, but he could take care of that, just like he’d done in the previous videos.
    The camera was set.
    He put the ropes in the trunk.
    It was time to go find a woman interested in spending the evening with a handsome, slightly devilish male companion.

 

     

    3
     
    Victor Sherrod Drake, president and CEO of Drake Enterprises, sat at his desk on the top floor of Drake Enterprises’ world headquarters on Aero Drive in San Diego. Most people didn’t know that the biotech industry is the second largest economic force in San Diego, trailing just behind the military. But Victor knew. He’d helped make it a reality.
    Most of his employees had gone home at 5:30 p.m., but Victor preferred to stay a little later, especially at this time of year when the 2008 financial reports were rolling in. Of course, it meant keeping a skeleton work crew on-site after hours to make sure his time wasn’t wasted, but that wasn’t a problem. He could afford it.
    Victor set his cell phone beside the papers on his desk so it would be available if his accountant called, then he perused the latest profit-margin reports and tapped his fingers to the rhythm of a tune he’d heard while driving to work earlier in the day.
    Yes. Things were going well. Very, very well.
    He glanced out the window at San Diego, the desert by the sea that humans had staked out as paradise. Victor liked looking down on this city. All the antlike inhabitants. Drones busily going about their petty suburban lives—
    “Mr. Drake, sir.” A sultry female voice interrupted his thoughts.
    He’d hired the woman behind the voice just for the way she sounded.
    He pressed the intercom. “Yes?”
    “I have General Biscayne on the line.”
    Victor’s fingers stopped tapping.
    Biscayne.
    Again.
    Who cares if you work at the Pentagon? You do not go calling one of the world’s richest men whenever you want to. No, you do not.
    On the other hand … the billions of dollars that the Pentagon’s research and development arm, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, or DARPA, was spending on this project could buy the general a few extra minutes of micromanaging.
    “I’ll take it on my private line,” he told the voice he loved.
    Victor swung the office door shut, snatched up his landline phone, and tried to hide the irritation in his voice. “General. Good of you to call.”
    “I wondered if you might have gone home for the day.”
    “I like to work late.” Victor calculated the time in the Eastern Time Zone. “You must like to as well.”
    “Hate it. Just got out of a marathon DARPA meeting, and we are, how shall I say, anxious to see the progress on Project Rukh.”
    “Well, I