Read Pestilence (Jack Randall #2) for Free Online

vibrating toward the edge and threatening to fall on the floor. She intercepted it before it could. Thumbing the button, the screen lit up and revealed three numbers.
    “888”
    Her expression changed from one of curiosity to a smile. 888 was code for “Report for a mission.” She could finally get back to work.
    “Raincheck, Dave?”
    “Anytime,” was his reply. “I’ll clean your backup. You can pick it up later. Go see what they got for you.”
    “Thank you!” she called as she left the range, trying not to run.
    •      •      •
    Eric scrolled the code across the monitor screen, looking for what he was sure was a typo in the latest upgrade to his crime scene software. His schedule at the FBI was more hectic than most and he hoped to finish the software upgrade today so he could concentrate on other things.
    His arrival at the Bureau had been rather untraditional and he was working hard to change everyone’s perspective. Less than a year ago he had been a promising student at MIT, but a conflict with a professor over a prank had resulted in his being asked to leave for a short while. He’d been spending the time helping his father at the Las Vegas police department when he was discovered by Jack Randall. It had led to a job offer and now he found himself taking an accelerated course at Quantico on top of his other assignments. It was a heavy schedule, but he knew he would never find anything more interesting than what he had been exposed to in the last few months. The training and influence of his instructors showed as he had done away with the spiked hair and earring and replaced them with a more conservative cut and better wardrobe. He had also packed on a few pounds of muscle, most of which was sore and causing him to squirm in his seat.
    He looked up from his computer screen as the buzzing broke through his concentration. He checked his pager, but the screen was blank. Puzzled, he looked around his cubicle for the noise. No lights on the phone. His cell was not ringing. He waited for it again.
    Bzzzzzzzzz.
    Some quiet cursing was heard from the cubicle next door. He pushed his chair out into the aisle and leaned it back in order to see around the corner.
    Larry was holding a file in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. A man with decades of experience, he was the detail man that Jack needed to back up his up-front style of leadership. The years had not been especially kind to him and duty at headquarters had added pounds around his midsection. He accepted the fact that he would never make it to the top of the ladder years ago and that was fine with him. Larry preferred good solid investigative work and would have been surprised to know that Jack had fought hard with several people to get him on his team. Some found Larry’s unkempt appearance, peculiar wit, and lack of protocol a negative, but Jack knew better. Larry got results, and to Jack that was all he needed to know. Larry had taken a shine to Eric and they now had side-by-side cubicles.
    He was currently making a concentrated effort to ignore the pager on his belt as it continued to vibrate.
    “Larry?”
    “Yeah, kid?”
    “Your pager’s going off.”
    “You sure?” Larry continued to pretend to read the file.
    “Uh . . . yeah. You don’t want to answer it? Could be important.”
    “No.”
    Eric smiled and pushed his chair farther into the cube. “Why not?”
    “Ever been to Africa, kid?”
    “No?”
    “Well I have. It sucks. Hot as hell. Steam room humidity. Everything’s dirty. Food gives you the shits. Bugs big as your head. Every disease known to man, and let’s not forget, people who don’t like us.”
    “And?” Eric was puzzled.
    “Somebody thinks I should go and they’re paging me. I hate Africa.”
    “They’re just gonna keep paging,” Eric pointed out.
    “You don’t think they’ll get tired and call somebody else?” Larry pulled the pager from his belt, but refused to look at it.