Page 268 of Silent Target

I reached for my phone and photographed the license plate, knowing before I ran it that it would lead nowhere.

They’d followed me.

Disabled the cameras.

Entered a federal parking facility.

Then Edmund Vale had approached me using his real name.

He wasn’t afraid of an investigation.

He was afraid I would uncover something before he could stop it.

My phone rang.

The screen showed UNKNOWN CALLER.

I answered without lowering my weapon. “Collins.”

“Don’t get in your vehicle.”

The man’s voice was deep and controlled. The kind of control that came from training rather than temperament.

I scanned the garage. “Who is this?”

“Michael Sarilla.”

The name meant nothing to me.

“I don’t know a Michael Sarilla.”

“No. But Vale does.”

My gaze snapped toward the exit where the sedan had disappeared.

“How do you know Vale was here?”

“I don’t.”

I heard men shouting in the background.

Then gunfire.

Not recorded.

Not distant.

Whoever Michael Sarilla was, someone was shooting at him.

“You mentioned him,” he said. “Which means my timing is either excellent or we’re both having a very bad night.”

“Where are you?”

“Alaska.”

More gunfire erupted.

A man shouted an order. Sarilla didn’t react to it.