Chapter 35
FBI Office Bucharest, Romania
“Dead!” Director Larry Simmons shouted at Alex and Tony through their secured Skype connection and banged his fist on his conference table. They were 4950 miles from Washington DC, and Alex still thought his eardrums might burst.
“Dammit, Tony. I needed to talk to her.”
“Sir,” Tony said. “Your agents had no control over her movements. She kept a loaded g*n in her dresser. She knew the consequences if she got caught.”
“That’s not the damned point!”
Alex had never seen Larry Simmons so mad—on-screen or off.
“Sorry, it happened that way, sir. It really wasn’t their fault,” Tony replied. “She jumped from her top floor balcony.”
Alex and Tony sat in the conference office in Bucharest. Two large, framed paintings decorated the whitewashed walls—on
