death continued to torture them both.
"This, “she pointed to the paperwork in front of them, "is everything I have on Harry's death."
Barratt's eyes grew wide, and he started leafing through the material as Shirin continued.
"I was there when he died. I saw them. Their faces, they're burned into my memory. These men killed him! It wasn't a mission gone wrong. Ignore the official story. They were after Harry!"
"And why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
"Because. They tried to kill me that day, too. And a few more times after. If I told you, they would have come after you as well. Besides, I didn't have anything concrete. That's when I decided to disappear for a while. That's when I started searching for the men who killed him. I found two of them. From there I tracked down their handler, their supplier, a few middlemen, and finally Bill Civic."
Barratt held one of the documents up at an angle to better catch the light. He focused on it."This," he motioned, showing Shirin.
"Is the account the hitmen were paid from," she said, confirming his thoughts.
"The 'handler.' I want to talk with him!"
"You can't," she shuffled the documents around on the table, looking down at them.
"The hell I can't!" he yelled.
"Trent," she said calmly, "I met with him five months ago. He did not survive."
"And the hitmen?"
"Will never be found." The icy glare returned to her eyes. They were haunted, cold, deadly.
The pressure in Barratt's' head grew, threatening to explode in a fury of rage. Every muscle in his body tensed, fighting the urge to smash everything in sight. He had never felt this helpless.
"I had been watching Civic for a while. He's a money launderer." Shirin paced as she spoke. "After a spider web of contacts and middle men, the trail led to Civic. I convinced one of the contacts to put into question the accuracy of the accounting on the transfer that eventually funded Harry's killing. After months of surveillance, I found where he hid it, and last night I got copies." She leaned forward over the tabletop, palmed the pile of documents and said, "This is going to show us where to go next."
"And how much do you think Civic knows about all of this?" Barratt's mind was already working on different ways to get at the people pulling the strings.
"Nothing. He's just a numbers guy. I'm sure that right now Zelig's men are doing a job on him anyway."
"Zelig's stink is all over this! I don't know how, or why, but he's mixed up in it for sure."He continued to look through the documents and surveillance photos."Is there anything here that connects to him?"
"Not that I have found. The papers from Civic are convoluted, way over my head. We'd need a forensic accountant to get through that labyrinth, but anything that well protected must be hiding someone important."
"Do you know a forensic accountant?"
"I know a guy who knows a guy."
Shirin walked to the gym bag, emptied out the weapons, selected a Browning 9mm, checked the magazine, then collected a USB drive from the table. Barratt was still engrossed in the surveillance photos. There were many.
"I'm off to follow the money trail." She picked up two brand new burner phones, handed one to Barratt, and pocketed the other. "These are clean; the number is programmed in. If you find any other way to track these pricks, call me. I'll be back soon."
Without waiting for a reply, she was gone.
12:11:59
Smith entered the large gymnasium unnoticed. The baseball cap pulled low over his forehead concealed his face from several security cameras positioned throughout the complex.
His heavy boots thudded deeply into the synthetic waterproof floor as he walked, the vibration of each step echoing behind him like a wake of pure energy. As though repelled by some invisible reverse-magnetic force, people were pushed out of his path unaware, powerless.
The cool air of the gymnasium changed noticeably as he entered the pool and spa wing of the large facility. The humidity clung to his
"This, “she pointed to the paperwork in front of them, "is everything I have on Harry's death."
Barratt's eyes grew wide, and he started leafing through the material as Shirin continued.
"I was there when he died. I saw them. Their faces, they're burned into my memory. These men killed him! It wasn't a mission gone wrong. Ignore the official story. They were after Harry!"
"And why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
"Because. They tried to kill me that day, too. And a few more times after. If I told you, they would have come after you as well. Besides, I didn't have anything concrete. That's when I decided to disappear for a while. That's when I started searching for the men who killed him. I found two of them. From there I tracked down their handler, their supplier, a few middlemen, and finally Bill Civic."
Barratt held one of the documents up at an angle to better catch the light. He focused on it."This," he motioned, showing Shirin.
"Is the account the hitmen were paid from," she said, confirming his thoughts.
"The 'handler.' I want to talk with him!"
"You can't," she shuffled the documents around on the table, looking down at them.
"The hell I can't!" he yelled.
"Trent," she said calmly, "I met with him five months ago. He did not survive."
"And the hitmen?"
"Will never be found." The icy glare returned to her eyes. They were haunted, cold, deadly.
The pressure in Barratt's' head grew, threatening to explode in a fury of rage. Every muscle in his body tensed, fighting the urge to smash everything in sight. He had never felt this helpless.
"I had been watching Civic for a while. He's a money launderer." Shirin paced as she spoke. "After a spider web of contacts and middle men, the trail led to Civic. I convinced one of the contacts to put into question the accuracy of the accounting on the transfer that eventually funded Harry's killing. After months of surveillance, I found where he hid it, and last night I got copies." She leaned forward over the tabletop, palmed the pile of documents and said, "This is going to show us where to go next."
"And how much do you think Civic knows about all of this?" Barratt's mind was already working on different ways to get at the people pulling the strings.
"Nothing. He's just a numbers guy. I'm sure that right now Zelig's men are doing a job on him anyway."
"Zelig's stink is all over this! I don't know how, or why, but he's mixed up in it for sure."He continued to look through the documents and surveillance photos."Is there anything here that connects to him?"
"Not that I have found. The papers from Civic are convoluted, way over my head. We'd need a forensic accountant to get through that labyrinth, but anything that well protected must be hiding someone important."
"Do you know a forensic accountant?"
"I know a guy who knows a guy."
Shirin walked to the gym bag, emptied out the weapons, selected a Browning 9mm, checked the magazine, then collected a USB drive from the table. Barratt was still engrossed in the surveillance photos. There were many.
"I'm off to follow the money trail." She picked up two brand new burner phones, handed one to Barratt, and pocketed the other. "These are clean; the number is programmed in. If you find any other way to track these pricks, call me. I'll be back soon."
Without waiting for a reply, she was gone.
12:11:59
Smith entered the large gymnasium unnoticed. The baseball cap pulled low over his forehead concealed his face from several security cameras positioned throughout the complex.
His heavy boots thudded deeply into the synthetic waterproof floor as he walked, the vibration of each step echoing behind him like a wake of pure energy. As though repelled by some invisible reverse-magnetic force, people were pushed out of his path unaware, powerless.
The cool air of the gymnasium changed noticeably as he entered the pool and spa wing of the large facility. The humidity clung to his
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