Джеймс Фрей – Incite (страница 1)
Other Books in the Endgame series
The Calling
Sky Key
Endgame: The Training Diaries Volume 1: Origins
Endgame: The Training Diaries Volume 2: Descendant
Endgame: The Training Diaries Volume 3: Existence
Endgame: The Zero Line Chronicles Volume 1: Incite
Endgame: The Complete Training Diaries
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
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Endgame: The Zero Line Chronicles: Incite © 2016 by Third Floor Fun, LLC
Cover design and logo by Rodrigo Corral Design
Additional logo and icon design by John Dismukes
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Source ISBN: 9780062332707
Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007585199
Version: 2016-02-12
Contents
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“So that was your first murder?”
“No. It was my first kill,” I respond. “It wasn’t planned. I’m not a murderer. I killed him, but I’m not … it’s not what you think.”
He sits down across from me at the table in the corner by the hotel window. My left wrist is handcuffed to the armrest, but it’s an old wooden chair, and when I lean back, the arm comes out of joint. I haven’t tried to push back far enough to get my handcuff off the arm yet. I have to be ready to roll when I do that. I only have one shot at escape.
“How is that not murder?” he asks, his face a mask.
“It was self-defense.” My heart is in my chest. I can’t even tell if I’m bluffing anymore, or if it’s the truth.
“You had just killed two other men. Was that self-defense too?”
“I didn’t kill two men.”
“Your friends did.” The agent—I don’t know if he’s CIA or FBI or what—stands up from his chair and paces the room. I don’t know what to say to him. All I know is that I’ve got to get out of here, fast. The team is counting on me. We don’t have much time.
“The cop,” I say, thinking fast, “had just shot my friend in the chest.”
“Your
He is the only agent here—alone and stupid. He’s from the US consulate, and he clearly has no idea who he’s dealing with. He thinks I’m just a run-of-the-mill terrorist. But I’m not. I’m Zero line. What we are doing is so much bigger than one local cop’s life. So much bigger than an FBI agent. So much bigger than me. He’s wasting my time, and time is the one thing we need on our side.
“Listen,” I say, “can I use the bathroom? You’ve had me handcuffed here for two hours.” I’ve also scanned the place for anything I can use to escape. It’s no prison—it’s a hotel. Someone slept in the bed last night. It’s probably this agent’s personal room.
He stares at me through narrowed eyes. “I’ll let you get up when you’re finished answering my questions.” He leans forward, trying to intimidate me. “Why are you in Munich? What’s your plan here?”