Internal Threat by Ben Sussman Page B

professional who would not allow himself be seen, he also knew that this was his first opportunity to spot him. A quick peripheral raking resulted in nothing. The voice was in his ear again, instructing him to open up the glove compartment.
    Inside, Matt found a small black leather box. He flipped it open to see what looked like a plastic shirt button and a white earbud.
    “Hang up the phone and put the earpiece in.” Another click and dead air filled his ear. Matt cut his eyes to Luke who was shivering slightly. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder to steady him.
    “Hey, we’re going to be okay. You hear me?”
Luke met his father’s gaze and nodded. Matt squeezed his shoulder and popped the earpiece in. Instantly, the killer’s voice was there again.
    “Clip the button to the top of your collar.” Matt did, noting in the mirror how the button looked like it was a part of his dress shirt. Unless someone became fixated on why his collar had an extra button beneath it, the addition was barely noticeable. “You are wearing a pinhole camera. I can see everything you see. I can also hear everything you say. Just so we understand one another.”
    “What do you want?” Matt demanded again.
    “We will get to that. Turn the car on and go back down to Sunset Boulevard. When you reach it, make a left. I will guide you from there.”
    Matt put the Porsche into gear and slowly pulled into the street. As he drove, his mind worked feverishly. Survival skills revved up on instinct. Emotions bubbling up from the events threatened to tip him into irrational, desperate behavior. That was exactly what this person would want and Matt refused to give him that power. Often on the battlefield, chaos and confusion were the enemy’s best weapon. When a soldier felt he could not trust his instincts or, even worse, those of his superiors, he became a pawn to be used at will.
    The intersection for Sunset came into view, Matt making the turn and pulling onto the heavily trafficked thoroughfare. He was familiar with the entire street from his many years traversing it to appointments. The fabled boulevard lay in a serpentine ribbon across the heart of Los Angeles. Beginning at the Pacific Ocean, it wended through the lush green hills of Beverly Hills and Bel Air before becoming a straight strip for cruising through the legendary nightclub and bar scene. Miles more of its asphalt stretched into the bohemian hotbed of Silverlake and the cluster of soaring high-rises that marked downtown Los Angeles’s business center.
    Matt now found himself navigating the street for the longest five minutes of his existence. A traffic light flipped to red at the La Brea intersection, placing him squarely next to a police car. The patrolman glanced in Matt’s direction, catching his eyes.
    Signal him somehow
, Matt told himself. The voice reappeared in his ear, jolting him.
    “Smile and look away,” came the order.
    Damn
. Matt cursed himself for facing the policeman, forgetting that the killer could see in conjunction with him. He flashed a tight grin which was met with indifference, then turned his eyes back to the road. The light turned green and the police car pulled away.
    “Drive behind him, not too fast,” the killer said. When the black and white trunk rounded a corner ahead, Matt felt his heart sink. “In a few minutes, you will be approaching the Hobson Building,” the voice in his ear continued.
    Matt knew it well since it housed several of his clients and their servers. “And what am I going to do there?” he asked.
    “Pull into the driveway before you miss it,” was the reply, ignoring Matt’s question. “Find a space against the wall and park.”
    Matt turned into the parking lot, shooting a quick look at Luke who was slumped in his seat. He noticed how the boy was shivering slightly and a small dot of sweat trickling down his temple. Matt wiped it away for him, earning a wan smile from his son.
    Turning his attention back to the