The Kill Room

return.
Meeting in Wall Street. Purpose? Location?
Victim 2: Eduardo de la Rua.
COD: Loss of blood. Lacerations from flying glass from gunshot.
Supplemental information: Journalist, interviewing Moreno. Born Puerto Rico, living in Argentina.
Victim 3: Simon Flores.
COD: Loss of blood. Lacerations from flying glass from gunshot.
Supplemental information: Moreno’s bodyguard. Brazilian national, living in Venezuela.
Suspect 1: Shreve Metzger.
Director, National Intelligence and Operations Service.
Mentally unstable? Anger issues.
Manipulated evidence to illegally authorize Special Task Order?
Divorced. Law degree, Yale.
Suspect 2: Sniper.
Code name: Don Bruns.
Information Services datamining Bruns.
Results negative.
Possibly individual at South Cove Inn, May 8. Caucasian, male, mid 30s, short cut light brown hair, American accent, thin but athletic. Appears “military.” Inquiring re: Moreno.
Possibly individual with American accent who called South Cove Inn on May 7 to confirm arrival of Moreno. Call was from American area code.
Voiceprint obtained.
Crime scene report, autopsy report, other details to come.
Rumors of drug cartels behind the killings. Considered unlikely.
Crime Scene 2.
Sniper nest of Don Bruns, 2000 yards from Kill Room, New Providence Island, Bahamas.
May 9.
Crime scene report to come.
Supplemental Investigation.
Determine identity of Whistleblower.
Unknown subject who leaked the Special Task Order.
Sent via anonymous email.
Traced through Taiwan to Romania to Sweden. Sent from New York area on public Wi-Fi, no government servers used.
Used an old computer, probably from ten years ago, iBook, either clamshell model, two tone with other bright colors (like green or tangerine). Or could be traditional model, graphite color, but much thicker than today’s laptops.
Individual in light-colored sedan following Det. A. Sachs.
Make and model not determined.

CHAPTER 25
    S HREVE METZGER RETURNED TO the top floor of the NIOS building from the organization’s technical department—the snoops—in the basement.
    As he strode through the halls, noting some employees avoid his eyes and make sudden turns into restrooms they undoubtedly didn’t need to use, he reflected on what he’d just learned about the investigation from his people, who’d been using some very sophisticated techniques for intelligence gathering—particularly impressive since they were, officially, nonexistent. (NIOS had no jurisdiction within the United States and couldn’t tap calls or prowl through email or hack computers. But Metzger had two words for that: back door.)
    Observing employees dodge out of harm’s way, Metzger found his thoughts wandering. He was hearing voices in his head, no, not that kind of voices, more memories or fragments of them.
    Come up with an image of your anger. A symbol. A metaphor.
    Sure, Doctor. What do you recommend?
    It’s not for me to say, Shreve. You pick. Some people pick animals, or bad guys from TV shows or hot coals.
    Coals? he’d thought. That did it. He’d hit upon an image for the anger beast within him. He’d recalled an incident when he was an adolescent in upstate New York, before losing the weight. He was standing before an autumn bonfire at his middle school, shyly attentive to the girl beside him. Smoke wafted around them. A beautiful night. He’d moved closer to her on the pretense of avoiding the sting of the smoke. He’d smiled and said hello. She’d said don’t get close to the flames; you’re so fat you’d catch fire. And she walked away.
    A story just made for a shrink. Dr. Fischer had loved it, much more than the tale about the anger going away when he ordered somebody’s death.
    So “Smoke” it is, uppercase S…Good choice, Shreve.
    As he approached his office he noticed Ruth inside, standing over his desk. Normally he would have been upset to see somebody in his private space without permission. But she was allowed here under most circumstances. He’d never had a single temper outburst against her, which wasn’t true of most other people he worked with at NIOS. He’d snapped or even screamed at them and thrown a report or address book occasionally, though most often not directly at the object of his fury. But never Ruth. Maybe that was because she worked closely with him. Then he decided that this theory didn’t work; Lucinda and Katie and Seth had been close yet he’d lost it with his wife and kids plenty of times and had the divorce decree and the