Deadly Heat

“Another thing in that message of my mother’s? In addition to nailing Maggs,

she also had something interesting to say… About the Dragon.” She paused. “How

much was Carey Maggs paying you?” Callan’s fist lashed out so rapidly, it stunned

her. With no time to block it, he clocked Nikki’s jaw so hard that she flew off the

mat and landed sideways on the hardwood. Before Heat could clear her head, he turned

and raced to the corner where he’d left his stuff. He reached down into his gym bag

and brought out his service weapon.

But Heat had speed he didn’t count on. Before Callan could come around with it, she

dropped him from behind with a tackle that whipped his face into the cinder blocks

just above the floorboards. He twisted around, blood streaming from his nose, and

locked her head between his knees. She felt his arm coming down toward her with the

gun. She reached up, flailing blindly, caught hold of his wrist, then kicked hard

onto the floor with her heels and kipped her body up. Her momentum carried her feet

in an arc up and over her head so that her kneecaps came down, pile-driving his

torso. He cried out and his leglock slackened. Nikki sprung to all fours and flipped

him over facedown, her one hand still clamped onto his right wrist to hold the gun

up and away.

The man was strong and struggled hard against her grip, but Heat held fast. At last

Nikki felt him start to give in. But then, in a sudden move, Callan thrust his head

upward. The back of his skull smacked her sharply on the chin. Her head rang and her

vision darkened at the edges. Then she blacked out.

It couldn’t have been for more than a second or two, but when her brain cleared and

she jumped to her feet, Callan was on his, too, bringing the Sig Elite up on her.

She braced herself for the shot, but he hesitated. “I didn’t want this,” he said.

It sounded like an appeal. “When you accidentally ended up at the heart of this

thing, I kept steering you away. And the deeper you dug, I tried to steer you away

again and again.” Callan swiped the flow of blood from his nose with the back of a

wrist while his other held the gun steady. “Nikki, I cared about you. I did

everything I could… But now I have to kill you.”

“You don’t.” But they both knew he did. She measured distance. Close but risky.

To Heat, the muzzle of the pistol looked as wide as a tunnel.

“Don’t even,” he said.

“At least tell me why.” She looked into his eyes and saw conflict. Even sadness.

So she held the gaze and made an appeal of her own. She used his first name. “Bart,

if there was ever anything between us, at least let me go to my grave knowing why.”

Nikki could see him considering. “Bart, please? I know who. Don’t I deserve a why?



He wristed his nosebleed again, thinking about it. His eye went to the door. Then

back to her. “You figured it out already. The bioterror plot funded by Maggs.”

“He paid you?”

“Yes.”

“And Tyler Wynn? How did Maggs turn him?”

“I turned him. He was ripe. Classic profile. An obsolete agent with expensive

needs.”

“But why Wynn?”

“European recruiting. After Ari Weiss became a problem, he did a search for a

biochemist with workable morals.”

“Tyler found Vaja?” Callan didn’t answer her. Didn’t need to. “And that’s why

this plot went to sleep for eleven years? Just to find one biochemist?”

“Not just. Maggs also needed to set up his pharma company. Then get the government

contract. Distribution capability. That took time. Years. The promise of a couple

billion buys a lot of patience.”

A motorbike ying-yinged on the street and it spooked him. Before he changed his

mind, Heat fired another question. “Why kill Nicole Bernardin?”

“Vaja lit up her radar when he started making trips to Russia recently to get the

smallpox strain. That’s what we were waiting for. The last piece of the puzzle.

Getting the virus so he could brew it and weaponize it. Nicole got too good at her

job, and…” He let it hang there. The sentence carried deadly implications for

Nikki.

Callan didn’t seem eager for the next step, either. “Bart,” Nikki said,

personalizing again. Trying to sound sensible instead of pleading. “Have you

thought this through? If you kill me, you still have to run. You can also choose to

not kill me and still run.”

He shook his head. “Not in the cards.”