Free D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) by James P. Sumner Page B

it. “What floor?”
    Julie checked the key. “Third,” she replied.
    The doors opened, and they stepped inside. Jericho hit the button for the third, and within a minute, they were walking down the corridor toward their room.
    Julie worked the door and opened it, stepping inside and holding it open behind her for Jericho. He followed her in, pausing to quickly check up and down the corridor outside, making sure there was nothing suspicious. Satisfied they were alone, he closed the door and locked it.
    The room, like the reception area, was basic but functional. A double bed against the right wall; a window facing them, offering a view of the street below and the restaurants opposite; a bathroom off to the left, with a shower cubicle in the corner… Luxury, compared to some places Jericho had spent the night.
    He walked over to the window, glancing down to the street before closing the drapes. He turned and saw Julie sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
    “Thank you,” he said. “For everything you’ve done for me.”
    She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. I was just trying to do the right thing.” Her voice lowered. “I hope I have.”
    Jericho regarded her for a moment. She was still wearing her white uniform and name tag. Her flat shoes fitted shapelessly to her feet. Her shoulder-length light brown hair was worn down, tucked behind her ears on both sides. She looked deflated and afraid.
    “First thing in the morning, we’ll get a change of clothes,” he said. “Then I’ll disappear and you can return to your normal life. Now sit tight, I’ll be back soon.”
    She sat upright, looking at him with concern. “Where are you going?”
    “I need to make a call. I took a cell phone along with the money, so I can discard it once I’m done. I won’t be long.”
    “Are you sure it’s safe?”
    “Honestly? I’m not sure of anything anymore. But I need to make this call. I know what I’m doing, don’t worry.”
    Julie nodded reluctantly. “Don’t be long, okay?”
    Jericho flashed a smile. “Just stay here, don’t use the phone, and don’t open the door for anyone besides me. Understand?”
    Julie nodded again.
    “You’ll be fine,” he said, reassuringly.
    “Promise?”
    “Promise.”
    He took the keycard from her and left the room, pausing outside long enough to hear her lock the door behind him, before walking back down the corridor and taking the elevator to the ground floor. He headed across the lobby and outside, where he stood on the sidewalk and took in a deep breath, tasting the stale air of Los Angeles.
     
    22:19 PDT
    He navigated the sea of pedestrians with a grace not befitting a man his size, walking for two blocks before stopping in the doorway of a store that had closed for the day. He took out the stolen cell phone and dialed a number from memory.
    “Birchwood Savings and Loans, how may I direct your call?” asked a professional, direct female voice after a couple of rings.
    “I’m calling to check my balance,” answered Jericho. “My account number is three, three, two, three, alpha, nine.”
    “One moment please while I retrieve your account information.”
    There was silence on the line for a few moments, and then a click as the call was transferred. Jericho could hear the faintest of sounds on the line, but remained quiet.
    “Can I help you?” asked a male voice, deep and weary.
    Jericho hesitated, unable to shake the doubts implanted in his mind by Josh Winters.
    “Hello?” said the voice, persistent.
    He took a deep breath and tried to speak, but his words caught in his throat, trapped inside a grip of uncertainty.
    “Jericho… is that you?”
    “Yes,” he said, eventually.
    “Jesus, Jericho! What the hell happened to you? You’ve been dark for over a week.”
    The voice belonged to Julius Jones, a thirty-plus year veteran CIA analyst, and the coordinator of the D.E.A.D. unit. Jericho’s minimal obligations to the agency involved a