Free Downfall by Jeff Abbott Page B

me along in pursuit of the man in black.
    “Let go— hurk , I’ll help— hurk .” I believe these were the noises I made.
    The man in black reached the gun, spun, fired at the Russian. He missed but I felt the heat of the bullet pass between me and the Russian. The Russian surged forward, propelling me along with him, using me like a shield as I tried to pull away, his arms locked over mine. Only my feet were free. I powered a sideways kick into the man in black’s arm and he fired again as I did. It all happened within three seconds. I’d used my left leg and the shot went right into the Russian’s chest, just missing my ear. The poor guy screamed and he let go and sank.
    I pulled free and the man in black was running out the door.
    The door slammed.
    The Rostov brother—I assumed from the photos in the room—looked up at me as I knelt beside him, pulling out my phone to dial 911, and he stared at me and he drew a shuddering breath and then released it; his last. And me, a stranger, his last sight on earth.
    Just like his brother, he looked confused, surprised. Life can end in a snap; we wrap ourselves in all sorts of blankets to hide that cruel fact.
    What would Detective DeSoto make of two brothers dead the same night, one in a bar fight, one in his home?
    She would be looking very, very hard at me.
    My situation had reached a new level of disaster by an order of magnitude. If she found a print of mine here—a strand of hair even…I wiped, carefully, the front door, the light switch, trying to think of any surface my hand might have landed on during the fight. A bit of fiber from my clothes, a stray print, and I could no longer deny that I had any previous connection to Grigori Rostov.
    “I’m sorry,” I said to him when I was done. How weird is that? Sorry for having killed his brother, who tried to kill me? Sorry he came home and died because two strangers were having a stare down? He was midtwenties, about my age. I was alive. He was dead and gone and soon he’d be cold.
    I hurried out to the street, hoping my life wasn’t about to collapse. In trying to make sure I was safe, I’d just put myself in far greater danger.
    You’re in this now…You know too much .
    Because there was no way the man in black would let me walk now, would let us be ships that passed in the night. Now I was a threat to him.

11
    Thursday, November 4, late evening
    W AKE UP.”
    Belias tapped the edge of the hard drive against Glenn’s head. “I have a bit of wisdom to share with you, knowing the value you put on information, Glenn.”
    Glenn opened his eyes, bleary, bloodshot, the bruising darkening on his temple. “What?”
    Belias put his face close to Glenn’s. “People teach you who they are under pressure. That’s when you see all their failings, all their weaknesses. I visited Grigori Rostov’s humble abode.” He dangled the hard drive above Glenn’s face. “I read your e-mails to him. He needed to use a spell-checker.”
    Glenn’s eyes widened.
    “You want to take over from me, Glenn. In you I created a monster. You’re like a zombie of ambition. Ravenous but brainless.”
    “I…I…”
    “Please. Don’t deny it.”
    Glenn shifted his voice to low and reasonable. “Let me help you. You can’t run our network alone, John. It’s too much power, too much responsibility. If I knew who all the others were…”
    “You could use them!”
    “No. I could help you protect them. What if something happens to you? We would have no peace of mind…not knowing if anyone else was going to find out about the network.”
    “Only I know the names of everyone. That’s how I protect you, Glenn. And I’m really bad at sharing. Always have been. Ask my dad.” He couldn’t contain a bitter laugh.
    “I could help you. Find new people. New ways for us to rise.”
    “I don’t appreciate a succession plan being forced on me, Glenn. You were using our moment of greatest danger for your own advantage.”
    Glenn’s