Chain Reaction. Don Pendleton

think I’d put myself through all this just to get a laugh?”

      Brewster placed his coffee in the cup holder and proceeded to unwrap his sandwich. He checked the filling, nodding when he found it was beef.

      “If I was playing jokes,” Mitchell said, “would I have brought your favorite kind of sandwich?”

      “I guess not.”

      They had just completed their meal when Mitchell felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She took it out and checked the caller ID. She was disappointed it wasn’t from Ray Talbot, or his partner Jake Bermann. The call was from SAC Drake Duncan, her FBI superior.

      “Sir?”

      “You’re not going to like this, Mitchell.”

      “Talbot?”

      “He’s been found. It’s not good.”

      Mitchell touched her partner on the arm.

      “I’m putting you on speaker, sir.”

      “Talbot has been found,” Duncan repeated for Brewster’s benefit.

      “Not alive?”

      “No. The body is about thirty miles from your current position in a place called Treebone. Some locals found the body, which had been dumped in a creek.”

      “You want us to check it out?”

      “Yes. I want an FBI presence in place. I want you to find out what happened. One more thing, Mitchell. Just remember Bermann is still missing too. I’ll get back to you with details.”

      “Leaving now, sir,” Brewster said.

      He gunned the Crown Victoria, tires skidding against the loose gravel as he swung back onto the highway.

      Neither of them spoke for the first few miles. They had been expecting Duncan’s news. Agents Talbot and Bermann had been missing for a few days, and it hadn’t been looking good. Ray Talbot had always been an independent type of guy, liable to go off without keeping his teammates informed. It was the way he had operated, and he had always brought in good results. Even so, receiving the news of his death had been a shock.

      It was Mitchell who broke the silence. She leaned forward and slammed her clenched first on the dash.

      “Damn, damn, damn. What the hell is going on, Joe? This is crazy. When Ray stopped checking in, I should have figured something was wrong”

      “There’s no logic to it. They vanish, disappear for a few days then Talbot shows up dead.”

      “Now I know Hegre has to be responsible for this.”

      Mitchell felt Brewster’s eyes flick her way for a few seconds.

      “Not that again,” he said.

      “Yes. That again. We were getting too close.”

      “Sarah, we have no real proof. It’s all...”

      Mitchell rounded on him, her hazel eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. Frustration.

      “What were you going to say, Joe? It’s all in my head? I’m imagining it?”

      “I understand how you feel, Sarah, but we have to go with real proof. We’re FBI. Not freelance cowboys with guns.”

      “And a dead agent is proof we’ve made waves. How many more before you believe?”

      “Procedure,” Brewster said. “We’re supposed to get local invitations before we walk over their jurisdiction.”

      Procedure.

      It was word Brewster used a lot, something he pushed every time they came up against a problem.

      Hell, Joe, I hope we never get in a tight spot and you won’t move if it goes against procedure, Mitchell thought.

      SAC Duncan called her again just under an hour later.

      “An email showed up on my computer. It was from Ray Talbot, dated almost two days ago. It had been delayed because of a server glitch...”

      “Our system?”

      “Unfortunately. Ray’s message got snarled up so it’s only just come through.”

      “That leaves us at a disadvantage.”

      “Don’t remind me.”

      Duncan held back from telling Mitchell that he had delayed informing her until he had contacted Matt Cooper. Talbot had already been dead and Duncan wanted more feet on the ground. And he was still nervous concerning the possible leaks. Hence his call to the unofficial Matt Cooper.

      “Is his message going to help, sir?”

      “I’m downloading it to your cell, Agent Mitchell. I’ll let you make a decision. Your call on this, Sarah. But keep me in the loop.”

      Mitchell sat back. A simple technical delay had held back Talbot’s email and now he was dead.

      Had the delay been the reason he hadn’t survived? Unable to have his message picked up quickly. Had it been that simple?

      Had Talbot died waiting for his FBI response?

      A response that hadn’t come.

      The thought sickened her, made her determined to find out what Talbot had been trying to pass along.

      Her cell phone pinged. She opened the downloaded message and scanned Talbot’s email.

      Info panned out. Have located Hegre base. North of town of Treebone. Am about to check it out. GPS location attached to this message. Talbot.

      * * *

      “Ray sent a location. He was going to check it out.”

      “Just him and Bermann?” Brewster snapped. “Damn stupid move. He should have—”

      “Christ, Joe, if you mention procedure again I’ll scream. Ray is dead. Jake is missing. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the rule book right now.”

      “I—”

      “Just drive, Joe. No talking. Just goddamn well drive.”

      She threw her cell phone onto the dash in frustration, then tapped the GPS coordinates into the vehicle’s navigation system.

      Her emotions were a mess. The Hegre investigation, missing agents and now Ray Talbot’s death. She knew her FBI training had taught her to maintain objectivity, but how could she not be affected by such things? The day she became that hardened she would hand in her badge and gun and walk away.

      She stared out through the windshield, the road curving away in front of the speeding car. Tall trees edged the route on both sides and in the far distance the were hazy outlines of mountains under the blue sky. Mitchell felt the sting of tears, angry at her emotions, but just as sad at the loss of a young life.

      They reached Treebone an hour later, Brewster driving through the isolated community.

      “We’ll bring the locals in after we check out this location,” Mitchell stated. “See if we can locate Jake without sirens screaming and lights flashing.”

      Twelve miles on the northern side of the town, the GPS informed them they were a half mile from their destination. The display on the screen indicated a right turn ahead.

      “Keep going,” Mitchell said. They drove by the dirt road. After a quarter mile Mitchell told Brewster to pull off the road.

      He pulled the Crown Victoria onto a fire road and nosed it into the timber, undergrowth rattling against the side of the car until Mitchell told him to stop.

      She pulled out her Glock pistol, checked it and kept it in her hand as she opened her door.

      “Sarah...don’t...”

      Mitchell