Read Hunter: A Thriller for Free Online

who. He was none too happy with your feature about his inmate commutation policy.”
    “Tough. I’m none too happy about his policy. Neither are the victims of all the thugs he’s turned loose.”
    “Yeah, easy for you to say. You weren’t the one who had to take the phone call last night.”
    “Did you give the guv my regards?”
    Bronowski snorted. “Call wasn’t from him. It was from Addison . Our dear publisher was not amused. You’ve simultaneously pissed off both a governor and our boss.”
    “ Your boss. Remember?”
    “Okay, my boss. Regardless. He wasn’t pleased about having his Sunday golf game down in Lauderdale interrupted by a call from Annapolis . He got an earful, and last night he returned me the favor. Now he wants to know what I’m going to do about you.”
    He paused. Hunter said nothing.
    “Don’t you care what I’m going to do?” Bronowski demanded.
    “No.”
    The editor dropped a cluster of f-bombs. Then stopped. Hunter heard a sigh.
    “Dylan, what the hell am I gonna do with you? You know what kind of position you’ve stuck me in? Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re the best investigative reporter I’ve run into in a long time. I don’t know where you got your training—but that’s the point! I don’t know a goddamned thing about you. Where you come from. Where you went to J school. Who you worked for before, where you live, whether you have a wife or kids or a dog—”
    “Cat.”
    He snorted again. “How nice. You know, after you started freelancing with us, I Googled your name. I figured, your talent, a thousand links would come up. But nothing. Not one. You’re like the Invisible Man.”
    Hunter was studying a wall photo of the Washington Monument . He spoke quietly. “My past doesn’t matter to me. Why should it matter to you?”
    Bronowski was silent a moment. “Okay. I won’t pry anymore. Hell, I don’t care if you flunked English or were Saddam Hussein’s press secretary. Only thing that matters is, you keep delivering the goods. Right now your freelancing generates more mail than anything my staff here produces. Which reminds me—the circ audit just came in. I checked back. Since you started pitching me stories last year, we’re up eight percent. That’s while the competition is bleeding readers and advertisers.”
    “So what did you tell Addison ?”
    “ That’s what I told Addison .”
    “Good for you, Bill.”
    “Yeah, well, since you’re gonna cost me my job any day now, you damned well better make your next piece worth my while.”
    It reminded him of why he had come here today. He felt his jaw tighten.
    “It will be the talk of the town.”
    He removed the battery from the cell again as he left the conference room, then rounded a corner and opened the door to number eleven.
    *
    Freddie Diffendorfer perched like an enormous Buddha on the armless visitor’s chair next to the desk. His legs were splayed far apart, unavoidable given the size of his thighs. An open box of a dozen assorted doughnuts covered much of the desktop—at least, it used to contain a dozen. Three were left.
    He looked up at Hunter, a semi-circle of white pastry poised in his hand. His cheeks were streaked with powdered sugar.
    “Hello, Dylan,” he mumbled as he chewed.
    “Hello, Wonk.” Hunter barely managed to squeeze past him to get to the chair behind the desk. “What’s this? Late lunch?”
    His visitor shook his head. A crumb hiding somewhere in one of his chins came loose and landed on his lap. “No, I had lunch at McDonald’s. But on my way through Dupont Circle , I observed that the hot light was on.”
    “I understand. Opportunity of a lifetime. So, do you need some time to finish up?”
    “No, I shall save the rest for a snack later, thank you.”
    Hunter watched with a mixture of awe and disgust as Wonk crammed the remaining half of the doughnut into his mouth. Barely chewed before he swallowed. Then licked his fingers. Then clapped his fat palms