Page 40 of Silent Target

Evie grips the dashboard. “How fast are we going?”

“Not fast enough.”

“That’s your solution?”

“It’s usually a good one.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Three hours later, I pull into an abandoned gas station.

Not for fuel.

For information.

A weathered man steps from behind the building. He’s in his late sixties, with a gray beard and a Vietnam Veteran cap pulled low over his eyes.

He watches me for a moment.

Then smiles.

“Sniper.”

“Frank.”

We shake hands.

No explanations.

No questions.

Only trust.

Frank looks toward Evie. “So this is the young lady making Washington nervous.”

“I seem to have that effect.”

“I like her.”

Most people do.

Frank disappears into the building and returns with an old metal coffee pot and three chipped mugs.

The coffee is terrible.

I drink it anyway.

Evie takes one sip and stares into her cup in horror.

“What is this?”

Frank looks offended. “Coffee.”

“No. I think this qualifies as a chemical weapon.”

Frank bursts out laughing.

I take another drink. “It’s fine.”