DEADLY HEAT EPUB
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Int J Mol Sci 19 6 Clin Microbiol Infect 22 5 — J Infect Public Health 10 4 — Antimicrob Agents Chemother 54 1 — Photochem Photobiol Sci 10 4 — Curr Opin Microbiol — Photochem Photobiol Sci 3 5 Nat Rev Microbiol 10 4 — Antibiotics 3 3 — Weinstein RA, ed. Clin Infect Dis 63 1 — J Pharm Sci 99 8 — Adv Nat Sci Nanosci Nanotechnol 9 2 Microb Pathog — Sensors 12 3 — ACS Appl Mater 10 32 — Google Scholar Liebana E, Carattoli A, Coque TM et al Public health risks of enterobacterial isolates producing extended-spectrum -lactamases or AmpC -lactamases in food and food-producing animals: an EU perspective of epidemiology, analytical methods, risk factors, and control options.
Clin Infect Dis 56 7 — Materials Basel 9 8 Adv Pharm Bull 5 1 — Expert Opin Ther Targets 18 2 — Cell Mol Life Sci 74 19 — Photodiagn Photodyn Ther 12 4 — Heat pressed his neck and got no pulse.
When she withdrew her fingers, his head rolled to the side, and Nikki saw something she had seen only once before in her life, the night Petar. The dead mans tongue lolled out of his mouth, and it was black. She looked at the spilled drink on the floor beside him.
A grande cup with Nikki grease-penciled on the side. She stood to study the crowd. Thats when she saw a familiar face on the way out the door. Salena Kaye made eye contact with Heat and bolted.
Nikki dashed to the exit, shouting, Police officer, everyone outside. Few patrons seemed eager to get closer to the corpse, but Heat worried about the poison and wanted to preserve the crime scene for clues. She yanked open the door and called to the barista holding the phone, Tell , officer in pursuit of homicide suspect.
Heat flattened against the wall of the vestibule then goosenecked a peek up the sidewalk to make sure she didnt hustle out into an ambush. A flash of. Salena Kaye, weaving away through pedestrians. She took off after her. Kaye never looked back, just kept sprinting with purpose. And speed. Nikki made a quick scope of 23rd, hoping for a blue-and-white.
In that split second, she collided with two teenagers backing out of a bodega, laughing at their Twizzler fangs. They all kept their footing, but when Heat cleared the boys, she spotted Salena popping the back door of a taxi. The cab was too far away to read its plate or medallion number. Heat memorized its missing-a-chunk bumper and the gentlemens club ad on the roof, hoping to find it again in the sea of rush hour taxis about to swallow it. She stepped out into the middle of the street, holding her shield out to drivers and signaling them to stop.
An off-duty cab blasted its horn and accelerated off. A green Camry screeched to a stop just past her. Nikki rushed up and opened the drivers door. The startled old man looked at her from behind the thick glasses of another decade.
Police emergency. I need your car. Now, please. Without a word, the slack-jawed senior climbed out. Heat thanked him, got in, saw the tiny old woman looking at her from the passenger seat, and floored it. Hold on, said Nikki, taking a sharp. Shed briefly spotted the XXX from the strip clubs rooftop ad and scanned the avenue of cabs ahead of her to find it again.
Her passenger said nothing, just clawed the dash with arthritically distorted hands while her seat belt clunked into lock mode. Up ahead, partially blocked from view by an ambulette, Heat picked out the taxis scarred bumper and then Salena Kayes face peering out the back window.
Nikki punched it through the red light at 24th, offering calm reassurance. You dont have to worry, Ive done this before. The elderly woman just stared at her, saucer-eyed.
But she nodded. The old gal was game. You have a cell phone? Its a Jitterbug, she said, and held up her bright red phone. Shall I call ? Yes, please. Heat tried to sound casual even as she lurched the wheel and mashed the brake. A gnarled forefinger tapped the large, senior-friendly keypad.
Say Officer needs assistance. While Heat threaded through the uptown rush, keeping pace with the cab, her passenger repeated Nikkis parceled-out messages to the emergency operator, asking her to radio for patrol cars to get ahead of them so they could wedge the suspect in a vise.
You did great. As the woman snapped her Jitterbug closed, Heat threw a protective arm out across her. Just beyond Bellevue Hospital, Salena Kaye bailed from her taxi and ran into the ambulance driveway. Heat checked her mirrors, pulled a hard right to the curb, and stopped. You OK? The old lady nodded. Hot dog. Detective Heat flew out of the car, sprinting after her suspect.
Nikki eyeballed the row of FDNY ambulances parked at the trauma entrance, looking inside and between them all as she ran, but she couldnt spot Kaye.
She jogged deeper into the passageway, slowing to check behind some laundry bins. Then she caught it. A figure going over the wall at the dead end of the lot. Kaye had taken one of the spine boards stacked beside the ambulances to cover the razor wire. Heat used it, too, pausing at the top to get bearings on the suspect before her drop to the sidewalk.
Ahead stretched a straight line of sidewalk. And a runaway killer. Salena Kaye had skills. She ran in a random zigzag pattern that made it futile for Heat to shoot from that distance.
But her dekes and dodges also slowed her forward progress. Nikki kicked up the sprint until her lungs were seared. Close enough to risk a shot, she drew.
Deadly Missions 1560026219 Cómo Descargar Gratis el Libro ePub y PDF
Salena Kaye, freeze or Ill shoot. The suspect stopped, raised both hands, and turned to face her. But then a pair of orderlies from the medical examiners office stepped out of the rear courtyard for a smoke break. Get back! Heat shouted.
The man and woman froze, blocking her shot. Kaye sprinted off through traffic, into a parking garage across the street. Gun out and pointed up at the car parks ceiling of green steel girders, Nikki Heat tiptoed through the shadows, scanning every square inch, listening. The detective squatted to scout under the cars, with nothing to show for it but a sooty palm. Then she rose up and stood stock still.
Just to listen. She never heard the blow coming. Salena Kaye pounced on top of her, dropping from the steel I-beams of the ceiling, taking her by surprise. Nikki knew better than to stay down in hand-to-hand combat. She pushed Kaye off and sprang to her feet, bringing her Sig Sauer around toward the woman still on the concrete. But Salena clearly had close-fighting experience. Her right leg scissored up in a blink, and the. The impact, square on a nerve, deadened feeling in her hand, and the pistol clattered across the deck and took a bounce off a car tire before it spun to a stop.
Kaye kipped up, quick as a gymnast, and came at Heat with a rapid-fire pair of wrist blows to each side of her head, boom-boom. Nikkis vision fogged and her knees jellied. She fought the blackout and recovered to find Salena going for her gun.
Heat side-kicked her ribs, and the woman dropped. But then she caught Nikki off guard again with a jujitsu leg locka submission hold Heat had practiced herselfbut now she was the. Unable to move, unable to free herself, she saw the dark form of her Sig Sauer on the cement and reached for it.
Kaye pulled her back toward her, but in so doing, she released Nikkis leg just enough for her to wiggle out of the lock. Heat threw herself forward on top of Salena, raining blows to her collarbone and neck. Kaye reacted by kicking both knees upward, somersaulting Heat right over her. Nikki landed hard on her back and lost her breath. Hey, whats going on? In the spilt second Salena paused to gauge the threat, Heat rolled for her gun. When she came up in readyfire, Salena Kaye was long gone.
Heat pursued, hobbling on her sore knee. She jogged through the pain and caught sight of Salena making a right turn toward the river up at 34th Street. And then Nikki heard the helicopter. When she reached the intersection, Heat knew it would be close. A hundred yards away, a royal blue Sikorsky S warmed up on the commuter helipad. A side door stood open, and the pilot, in a white short-sleeved shirt with epaulettes, lay on the asphalt beneath Salena Kaye, with both hands to his face and blood streaming through his fingers.
For the second time that morning, Detective Heat drew her service piece and called a freeze. Kaye probably couldnt hear her over the copters engine, but she saw Nikki.
With a lingering look and a slow turn that spoke of arrogance, she climbed inside the S76 and closed the door. Seconds later, as Heat reached the tarmac, the chopper lifted up about two feet and then rotated on an axis, its rear rotor spinning within a yard of Nikki, who plunged to the asphalt.
Salena Kaye rotated again, brazenly presenting the helicopters side to Heat long enough to chuck her the finger. Then the chopper slowly drifted out over the East River, churning up a. Heat got on one knee and braced her elbow on the other, taking aim with her Sig Sauer. She figured if she emptied the entire clip into the engine, she could, maybe, bring it down in the drink.
She envisioned the shot, and then hesitated. It occurred to her that there could be an innocent passenger aboard. Nikki holstered and called for NYPD air support as she watched the Sikorsky become a dot against the morning sun over Brooklyn. My God, are you OK? Nikki gave the bull pen a sheepish scan and modeled a quieter voice for him. Im fine. They unfolded from their embrace, and he revealed the Starbucks cup in his hand. Brought you a fresh latte.
Thanks, Ill wait. Ill taste test it for you. He took a sip, made a ceremony of swirling it in his mouth, and swallowed, following the whole thing up with a lip smack and a satisfied Ah. He held it out and said, See, its just fi Suddenly his eyes bugged and he made a choking gasp and brought his free hand up to his throat. She stared blankly. He miraculously. Too soon? Too late. Nikki gestured to the squad room, where a grande cup labeled Nikki sat atop every desk. These idiots beat you to it.
Half hour ago, homes, said Ochoa as he approached. Shoulda seen Rhymer after his sip. Opie hit the deck bucking and snorting. He smiled. That frothing was inspired. Rook said, What is it about cop humor? So dark. So inappropriate. So awesome. He had learned from day one of his ride-along with Heat that cops responded differently to sadness and stress than most folks. They hid their emotions in opposites. All this joking,. Or, I care. Rook figured it was in the same realm as why the Three Stooges never hugged.
Ochoa wagged his notebook, signaling business. Just hung up with a detective from the Seventieth over in Flatbush.
Shes in the ball field where your chopper set down in South Prospect Park. Good thing you held fire. There was a passenger aboard. Some fashion CEO coming in from the Hamptons.
He never got a chance to unbuckle his seat belt when they touched down and got skyjacked. Technically, if they were on the ground, wouldnt that be hijacked? He felt their glares. The fashionista says Kaye speeddialed a call while they were still over the river. Detective Ochoa knew better than to drag out suspense and flipped a page to the witnesss quote.
She said, Dragon, its me, then something he couldnt make out that sounded like busted play. Kaye never said anything else, just listened, then hung up. Five minutes later she was booking east across the empty Parade Grounds while he sat there with the rotors still spinning. Ochoa peeled off to his desk, and Rook said, I have to shake my head about Salena Kaye. To think of all the time that woman spent in my apartment giving me physical therapy. I have to say helluva massage.
He paused, cheesily relishing something private, then grew serious. Of course it kinda spoils the mojo, knowing she was really only there to plant listening devices for Tyler Wynn. Just the sound of his name sent a twinge through Heat. Not just because it reminded her of the betrayal by the man behind her mothers death.
The CIA traitor still had some reason to want Nikki dead, and hed sent his lethal. If Nikki could keep herself from getting killed, she might even find out why. That sunny thought filled her head as she gathered her squad around the Murder Board.
We have an apparent code name for Salena Kayes controller. Isnt that Tyler Wynn? We assume, yet never assume. You know that by now. Nikki then turned her attention to Detective Hinesburg. She figured a straightforward task would be Sharon-proof, so she assigned her to run.
Dragon and any variations through the database at the Real Time Crime Center downtown. She put Detective Rhymer on checking the cellular carriers to see if they could slurp a number off any towers near the river at the time of Salena Kayes phone call. Heat bet Kaye had used a burner cell, but she had to be thorough.
Rhymer, as good-natured as his Virginia hometown, smiled and nodded. Good as done, said Opie. Next she posted a Google Map enlargement of the Brooklyn neighborhood where the Sikorsky.
Its not likely the suspect had time to arrange a pickup. And good luck hailing a cab in an outer borough, right? But look here. Heat pointed to the map. The Church Avenue subway station is in the direction of her escape. Raley, get on the blower to the MTA. Start pulling security cam video from Church Ave to see if she got on a train and, if so, which direction.
Then check pictures from stops along the line to see where she got off. When she turned from the map, Heat caught Ochoa eye-rolling to his partner. Problem, gentlemen? But were getting spread a. We still have to get back in the field to brace more of the restaurant owners on Conklins roster.
Youll have to juggle both, said Heat. Like we all do. She didnt need to take it further. Nikki could see the impact on all their faces. Every detective in that room knew their squad leader not only juggled these two cases; she did it while someone was actively out to kill her.
She adjourned, continuing to ponder the why of that. Heat didnt have the answer yet, but the attempt on her life that morning told her one thing. Something new was up with whatever conspiracy had led to her moms murder ten years ago. Otherwise, they wouldnt. On the drive with Rook to City Island to interview Roy Conklins widow, Nikki found her eyes on the mirrors a lot more than usual. When you know a professional wants you in the crosshairs, a little extra vigilance may get you a chance to see the next day.
Heat was at risk, and nobody would have thought less of her if she bunkered up. Captain Irons was so worried about her safety, hed even offered her administrative leave or vacation time, if she wanted it. Nikki had stomped out that idea on the spot. The cop in her would never hide in the face of personal danger. That was the gig. But she did feel a healthy nerve jangle. So Heat did what Heat did best: She compartmentalized.
Experience had taught her that the only way to move forward was to cage the beastput her fear in a box.
Because what was the alternative? To close herself inside her apartment? Run and hide? Not this detective. This detective would bring the fight to them. And check her mirrors. The phone rang as they crossed the Pelham Bay Bridge, where the Hutchinson River separated the urban Bronx from the expansive green woods surrounding Turtle Cove. Nikki fished her Jawbone earpiece from the side door. Do I need to remind you that I will kill you if you get yourself killed?
Heat chuckled. No, you make that pretty clear. Every time. Lauren kidded, but sisterly worry came through. Thats why youre still walking Gods earth.
Because I will come after you. Admonishment completed, the medical examiner filled in Heat on Roy Conklins postmortem.
Hard to call it good news, said Lauren, but Mr. Conklin was deceased before he went into the oven. Nikki pictured the body. Envisioned the high-temp bake. So he didnt. Cause of death was a. Heat answered Rooks inquiring face by miming a finger pistol while the ME added, Condition of the body and the small caliber hid the GSW from me onscene. I found the slug when I opened him up. Ballistics has it now.
What about my poisoning vic from Starbucks? Hes next up. Be sure to run a cross-check versus whatever killed Petar, said Nikki, mindful of Salena Kayes earlier poisoning victim. Gee, ya think? Heat and Rook patiently waited out another round of Olivia Conklins sobs in the living room of the airy, seashorethemed two-bedroom that would never feel the same to her. The apartment, in a complex of neat gray clapboards with bright white trim, sat waterside next to City Islands sailing school in the Bronx.
In the distance beyond the balcony, Long Island shimmered under a spring sun. The view back at them from Great Neck might have been Jay Gatsbys when he contemplated the green light shining. But symbols of brightness, beauty, and optimism had no place in that room. It should have been raining. For Olivia Conklin, still wearing the crumpled business suit after her night flight home from a software training seminar in Orlando, the only solace was that her husband had been shot.
When thats the good news, its all downhill. Even though Heat despised this part of the job, it was the part she was best at. She connected, having once been in a similar chair filling Kleenex herself.
So she navigated the interview gently, yet alert for signs of guilt, lies, and inconsistencies. Unfortunately spouses proved worthy suspects.
With delicacy,. Roy only had one mistress, she said. His job. He was so dedicated. I know some people hear civil servant and think laziness. Not my Roy. He never left his work at the office.
He took public health personally.
He called them his restaurants and never wanted a sickness on his watch. All this only confirmed the research Heats team had done so far.
Roy Conklins finances were in line with his pay grade. Roachs restaurant checks revealed a man consistently called tough but fair. Neither his wife nor his colleagues knew him to have any. It just makes no sense, said Olivia Conklin. Then the new widow wailed out the single, heart-crushed word Nikki heard from all grievers after the sudden theft of a life.
That word was the beacon that guided Detective Heat in her work: As Heat and Rook walked back to her car, past the tidy row of Sunfish trailered in the sailing school parking lot, Nikkis gaze roamed out to the glistening open water.
She imagined the smart pop of Dacron as wind filled her.
Then she pictured Roy Conklin standing right there his last living day and wondered if hed savored that view or if his heart had felt too heavy with fear or guilt at some horrible secret he kept from his wifea secret that got him killed and left her asking why. Or, Nikki speculated, did poor Roy never see it coming, either? Then her phone rang and yanked Heat into her other case.
Sailing would have to wait. Back to juggling. The call came from the police in Hastings-on-Hudson, a quaint village about a half hour upriver from New York City. Hastings only employed two detectives in its small department, and Heat maintained regular contact with.
Vaja Nikoladze was just one of numerous people Heat had put feelers out to, all seen as persons of interest because her mother tutored piano in their households prior to her murder. Nikoladze, an internationally renowned biochemist who had defected from the former Soviet Republic of Georgia, had been eliminated as a suspect in her mothers case.
But since Tyler Wynn frequently booked her moms piano jobs as CIA spy dates, Heat wanted to know if the Georgian expat had had any recent contact with the fugitive. But just like the elusive Syrian UN. She gave Nikoladze the benefit of the doubt. He had been friendly and cooperative when Heat and Rook first visited him three weeks before.
But since that time Vaja had been away showing his prized Georgian shepherds at various out-of-state competitions. Now the Hastings detective was calling to alert Nikki that her person of interest had just been spotted back in town. Wrenched but resolute not to let it drop, Heat juggled the Conklin ball up in the.
As she pulled onto the Saw Mill Parkway, a flicker of anticipation filled her. She knew better than to get ahead of herself, but Nikki dared to hope she might finally be moving forward after almost a month of relentless disappointment.
Forty minutes later, steam cleaning rubber floor mats outside the kennel on his back pasture, Vaja Nikoladze looked up at the undercover police car pulling off the two-lane that ran between his neighborhoods horse pastures and woodlots.
Even from a distance, the small man looked surprised when he heard them crunch the pea gravel of his car park. As they made their way across. Nikoladze didnt reply, but instead pulled a push broom from a bucket of soapy water and power steamed the foam out of the short bristles. The two of them waited, not even trying to engage over the noisy jet spray of the pressurized nozzle. When he had finished, he cut the steam, leaned the broom against the wall, and draped the thick black rubber mats over the decorative railing to drip dry in the sun.
Unlike their cordial visit weeks prior, Vaja gave every sign now that he wanted nothing to do with Detective Heat or her ride-along journalist. I have a telephone, you know. After more than twenty years in the US, his Georgian accent remained thick and still sounded Russian to Heats ears. We were kind of in the neighborhood, said Rook, earning a glower in return. You have come to get more material on me for your next article, Jameson?
Maybe not everyone in United States is eager to be so well known, you think of that? When Rook had accompanied Nikki last time, he and Vaja got along quite well. Nikoladze had offered refreshments, swapped stories, even given an obedience demonstration of his top show dog. Rooks subsequent write-. Clearly, Vaja took exception to the limelight. Heat didnt care.
She pushed right back. Were here to follow up on my official police investigation, Mr. And the reason I didnt call first is that you have been uncommunicative. I have left you too many unreturned messages and e-mails.
So ding dong, comrade. Rook circled off to sightsee the Palisades, visible above the tree line. Vaja set aside his chores and crossed his arms. I have some pictures I want you. Yes, so your unending messages have said. I told you last time, I dont know this Tyler Wynn. As she swiped each image on her smart phone, Nikki said, Indulge me. He barely looked at them.
I cannot help you. Does that mean you dont recognize them or you cant help? He stared at her with resolve mixed with petulance. I must inform you that I have been told not to speak to you, or risk deportation.
Rook circled back around from his sightseeing and made eye contact with Nikki. Then her brow lowered and she took a step closer to Vaja. Exactly who told you this, Mr. When she heard the name, Nikki fumed.
She flashed tin and added, Special Agent Callan is expecting us. The reception officer at the Department of Homeland Securitys New York field office cleared his throat in an exaggerated way that pulled Rooks attention from the ceiling.
Hed been counting cameras since they. Oh, sorry. Jameson Rook, model citizen. He handed over his drivers license and whispered to Nikki, More cameras than a Best Buy at Christmas. Five bucks says Jack Bauer already knows were here.
Elevator on your right, said the receptionist, handing them each photocapture passes to wear that read Floor 6. But when they got on the elevator and pushed six, the doors closed, the lights in the car dimmed, and it descended. After a brief moment of startled disorientation, Rook said, Black elevator, and began punching the. He gave up and said, Sweet. The doors parted in a high-tech subbasement command center. Dozens of plainclothes personnel and military from all branches worked computers and stared at giant LED wall screens.
The Jumbo-Trons displayed scores of live security cams and lighted grids, one of which resembled a connect-the-dots of the US Northeast. A waiting pair of agents attired in complementary Joseph A.
Banks escorted them along a back wall to a situation room where DHS special agent in charge Bart Callan came around from the head of the empty. Last time Heat saw him, it had played like a sixties spy movie.
Nikki ate her lunch in solitude on a park bench; Agent Callan materialized out of nowhere and sat beside her to deliver a sales pitch to join his team to help track down Tyler Wynn. She heard him out but declined. Nikki couldnt be certain, but it felt to her like Callan then tried to open the personal flank, sending signals of friendship and perhaps deeper interest.
But Heat had a relationship, and more than that, she needed independence from the feds. Her investigative style didnt lend itself to bureaucracy, politics, and red tape. Now, judging. Heat, my God, I never thought Id see you down here. He thrust out a hand, and when Nikki shook, he clasped his other one over hers and held it exactly one second past friendly.
Bart Callans face brightened around a cornfed smile that made her blush. Then he turned and said, Hey, Rook, welcome to the bunker. And so nice to visit you under my own power. Rook still smarted from what he called the Great Homeland Carjacking.
A few weeks before, when Heat and Rook returned. Now Callan clamped an arm around Rooks shoulders as he led them into the Situation Room. Come on, youre not going to hold a grudge about our little impromptu chat, are you? Suddenly blown away by the hightech room, with its flight decksized mahogany table and imposing array of LED screens, Rook said, Not if you let me meet Dr.
The earnest agent gave him a puzzled. Sit, sit. He gestured to the leather high-backed chairs, but she stayed on her feet. Callan sniffed trouble. OK, not sitsitting You told my witnessa person of interest in my mothers casethat he cant speak to me.
I demand to know why you are interfering in my investigation. Callan tugged the knot in his necktie loose. He already had his coat off, and Heat watched his triceps flex against his shirtsleeves. Nikki, this should be our investigation.
All you have to do is come aboard. I told you, I want independence, not. Too late, said a womans voice. Heat and Rook turned to the door. The woman breezing in carried herself like she was in charge, and knew it. And from Callans sudden loss of affability, he did, too.
Suddenly taut, he said, Nikki Heat, say hello to But the slender brunette in the tailored black suit jumped in, making her own introduction. Agent Yardley Bell, Homeland Security. She gave Heat an appraising look and a strong handshake. Then she turned to Rook, whose face wore an expression Heat had never seen. Help me with your name again? And then she said, Jameson Rook. Holy fuck. The two moved to shake but, halfway, opted for a hug.
Then Yardley Bell surprised Nikkiand Rookby kissing him. Sure, she planted it on his cheek, not his mouth, buta kiss.
Heat forgot her DHS beef for a moment. Yardley Bell pulled back, but not far. She still cupped his shoulders with both hands while she laughed and said, Im sorry. That wasnt very professional, was it? Rook just gaped, speechless for a change. Then Callan, Heat, and Rook sat.
Agent Bell chose a spot to lean against the wall behind Callans chair at.
Nikki considered the power message that signaled. Detective Heat, she began, Im visiting from our team in DC. I came up here to liaise with Special Agent Callan on bringing this Tyler Wynn business you stumbled upon to a happy conclusion. Im aware of your emotional connection to this case, and you have my deep sympathies.
She paused only briefly and rolled onward. However, make no mistake, this is The Big Show, no lone wolves. We have more of a handle on this than you know, and a bigpicture strategy that cannot concern you as an outsider. Butif you choose to smarten up and join the teamyou may. What do you say? Agent Bell, is it?
Its a real pleasure to meet you. But I think my visit is about over. Special Agent Callan, thanks for the tour. She rose. Rook hesitated slightly but got to his feet as well. They were almost out the door when Bell said, Dont you want to know about Salena Kayes phone call from the helicopter?
Nikki hated herself for it, but she stopped and turned. A jumbo LED flat-screen on the wall came to life with a series of animated graphs scanning a map of Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Yardley Bell moved beside. An oblong box of rolling numbers in the upper right corner time-stamped the grid search. This was recorded at the time Kaye escaped from you and borrowed the general aviation chopper. She touched an icon on the side of the glass, and bright green crosshairs found the middle of the river and blinked steadily.
Another light flashed on the screen. This is the cell tower in Red Hook that picked up the call. The trace, as you can see, is bouncing to about eight cellular repeaters in Queens,. Staten Island, back to Brooklyn, and so forth.
Bell stepped aside while the lights flashed and pinged around the screen like a second-gen video game, then died. This indicates four things. It wasnt a burner cell.
It was an encrypted cell. And it was a sophisticated digital transmission designed to be untraceable, then implode. Thats only three things, said Heat. Number four. Youre over your head. You can join us and have access to resources like this, or stay outside and chase your fucking tail. At the sound of a hot button getting pressed, Bart Callan got to his feet and injected himself into the conversation.
Thats not about you personally. He stood close to Nikki, giving her his most conciliatory smile. For a military type he had true warmth, and it had a calming effect. Heat held the brake on her anger. Whats it about then? Assets, plain and simple. We have the infrastructure, the team, and the experience to do this right.
What Id like personally? He paused and pressed his palm against his chest. Is for you to join us and give us the benefit of your insights and, frankly, remarkable skills, Detective Heat.
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Callan held her eyes with his, and a small, involuntary flutter rose in Nikkis chest again. She turned to Rook,.
Heat returned Callans pleasant smile. This has been very helpful, Bart. I do have to say that I have changed my mind. I came here all pissed off to ask you why you were interfering in my investigation, and now He looked at her with anticipation. And now I am telling you to stay the hell out of it. Callan insisted on riding topside with his two visitors so he could put in his. When Heat and Rook stepped out into the DHS lobby he stayed on the elevator, holding the door open with his hand.
And dont be put off by Agent Bells brusque style. I went through an adjustment myself. Kinda had to cinch up my jock when she swooped in on my case. Arent you the ranking officer? Heat said, Looks more to me like youre working for her, Special Agent.
And now you want me to jump into that political dysfunction? Lets be pros. Lets get past the pissing on trees we just saw down there. Agent Bell has an amazing track record. Just ask your friend here. His reference carried a whiff of animosity that made Rook avert his gaze and threw Nikki off balance as she processed his prior relationship with Yardley.
But Nikki regained her footing and pushed back. I still want an answer to my question. Vaja Nikoladze. OK, said Callan, Ill give you this one as a gesture of good faith. The Georgian is an informant. Wed like to keep it that way. He cast a buffalo eye at Rook. Id go on, but I dont want to be quoted in the media.
LIE, youre going to buy a paragraph in my article.
Deadly Missions 1560026219 Cómo Descargar Gratis el Libro ePub y PDF
Callan didnt respond. He asked Nikki to think it over, then released the door for his descent. First thing back in the car, Heat said, OK, spit it out. Who is Yardley Bell? She is a force, isnt she? Rook, she kissed you. Start talking. We met in the Caucasus five years ago, he began.
That was when my early reporting on the Chechen rebels began making noise. Stick to Yardley Bell, Rook, she said. I know all about your reporting. OK, so Im in-country, sitting in the caf next door to my hostel, tapping a dispatch into my laptop, when this. She said shed been reading my stuff and wanted to tag along to do advance work for a documentary. I thought about it and figured, why not? Because she was hot? Because Im a sucker for All Things Considered. And because someone who spoke Englishlet alone was an Americanwas something I hadnt encountered in six weeks riding with the rebels.
Then he shrugged, admitting, All right, and she was hot. How long until you figured out she was CIA? That night. I woke up and caught her. In the middle of the night, said Nikki. The first night. Lets review. Six weeks, American, hot. Got it. I had my journalistic ethics, though.
I wouldnt travel as cover for a spy. And I sure wasnt going to burn the cred Id established with the warlords. So I sent her off the next morningOK, next night and that was that. Heat made a turn north along the Hudson and said, No its not.You do know that just because Rook isnt here, you dont have to guest-host. Special Agent Callan, thanks for the tour. Roach appreciated the gallows.
It was so cool. The general mechanism of action of these carbon nanostructures includes ROS generation, cell membrane damage, leakage of cytoplasmic contents, oxidative death, protein denaturation, DNA damage, and lipid peroxidation. Ochoa moved beside her. He returned just as a pair of techs from OCME were removing the body from the oven.
My God, are you OK?