Assassin's Apprentice: Chapter 7

7.

“FBI, sir,” she said, holding up her photo ID beside her face so he could match them. Her partner did the same, but grudgingly. Hers gave the name Sonia Regvall and his said he was Russel Flynn.

Granger stood in the doorway, towering above both of them, a dishtowel tucked in the waistband of his jeans as a makeshift apron. He pointed at her ID with his spatula. “Looks almost real.”

She looked at her partner as if uncertain whether or not Granger was joking. Her partner shrugged, not caring one way or the other. He looked around Granger into the house. “You got a bathroom I could use?”

Sonia Regvall stepped forward, nudging her partner aside before Granger could answer. “I assure you, Mr. Shale,” she said, “they are quite authentic. If you’d like to phone the FBI headquarters in Cheyenne and ask our supervisor to verify—”

“I’m sure everything checks out,” Granger interrupted with a smile. He waved his spatula, inviting them in. “Got a grilled cheese burning on the stove. Mind walking and talking?”

“Not at all, sir,” she said, returning her ID to her purse. They fell in step behind Granger, soundlessly following him down the hall. “Bathroom’s off to the right there, son.”

Russel Flynn ducked in and quickly closed the door. An almost instant sound of urine splashing water. A low moan of relief. Granger looked at the woman, who forced an embarrassed smile.

Granger led her to the kitchen, quickening his pace as he smelled the burning cheese. If they were impostors, they went through a lot of trouble and expense for those IDs. They were real or the best damn fakes he’d ever seen. That meant they also had the means to divert any of his phone calls to a drop phone where someone would be waiting to confirm their identities. Hell, how many times had he done the same thing? Besides, if they were here to kill him, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to stop them. Even if he wanted to.