บททั้งหมดของ RED LABEL: บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

"And what's the catch?" Gonel asked. Daniel did not answer immediately. He remained seated, studying Gonel with the patient expression of a man who had heard that question many times before and understood that it was rarely a request for information. It was a test. Gonel wanted to know whether the stranger across from him was offering a genuine escape or merely another kind of trap dressed in expensive language."The catch," Daniel said at last, "is that nothing in this world comes without a price."Gonel gave a faint scoff. "That's philosophy. I asked you a business question.""And I'm giving you a business answer.""No, you're giving me something people say when they don't want to tell you the ugly part."Daniel smiled. "You really are a professional.""I was.""You still are."Gonel looked down at the restraints around his wrist. "Professionals don't end up chained to hospital beds.""Sometimes they do.""Not good ones.""Then perhaps you're not as good as you thought."Gonel's e

Gonel's eyes lingered on Daniel's face, studying him with the guarded concentration of a man who had spent too many years surviving situations in which the wrong answer could be more dangerous than no answer at all. His hand moved again, almost imperceptibly, and two fingers brushed the side of his temple before his hand settled back against the sheet.Daniel watched the movement without reacting. He understood now.Not everything. Not how the thing worked, not who had put it there, and certainly not how far its reach extended. But he understood enough to know that the questions he had come prepared to ask were no longer questions worth asking.Gonel looked toward the closed door, then toward the camera in the corner of the room. His gaze returned to Daniel, and for several seconds neither man spoke.Then Gonel lifted three fingers. He held them there briefly before slowly closing his hand.Daniel's eyes narrowed.Three.The three operatives.Gonel touched his temple again, then poin

Daniel moved before the man's finger completed the pressure on the trigger.He caught the gunman's wrist and drove it upward. The shot exploded into the ceiling, deafening them both in the confined corridor. Daniel twisted the man's arm, stepped inside his reach and drove him against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs.The man recovered quickly. Too quickly.His free hand came around toward Daniel's face, but Daniel caught it, turned his body and used the man's own momentum to send him crashing onto the tiled floor.The pistol skidded away. Daniel kicked it beneath a cabinet. The man tried to rise. Daniel put a knee against his chest.The hitman passed out instantly. For several seconds Daniel remained still, breathing too evenly for a man who had just taken out an operative, as he studied the unconscious man. The attacker was young enough to still have softness around his face, but his eyes were not young. They were disciplined, controlled and completely

Across the street near St. Jude's Hospital, Daniel could almost picture the detective sitting upright wherever he was, every instinct suddenly alert, sharpened by the strange authority in the voice on the line. "Nobody?" Denkley's voice filtered. "That's right." "How did you get this number?" Denkley pressed. "I need to see you." "That's not what I asked." "I know," replied Daniel. Denkley's voice went quiet again, the silence stretching just long enough to betray his unease. Daniel continued walking, his pace leisurely, as though the conversation were the most ordinary thing in the world. "Marcus Hale's office. Within the next hour," he said. "Hold on," Denkley protested. "You can't just call me for the first time and dictate terms for me. You need to see me. In my office. "You will come and see me, detective. Because I have a big job for you," offered Daniel. That got Denkley's attention. "What kind of a big job?" "One that matches your big ego." Silence fell ove

The reception lobby of Redstone Tower occupied the entire ground floor of the building, and Daniel quickly discovered that getting through it was going to require more than simply walking in and asking for the Chief Security Protocol Officer.A waist-high security barrier divided the visitors' area from the elevators beyond it. Two security officers sat behind a glass checkpoint, one monitoring the cameras while the other handled visitors. Every visitor entering the building was required to identify themselves, state whom they were visiting, and submit to the usual security checks before being issued a temporary access card.Daniel joined the short line and waited.His dark jacket was plain, his shirt unremarkable, and his appearance had been deliberately arranged to suggest a man who spent most of his life sitting across tables from people who had something to lose.When his turn came, the security officer looked up from his terminal with the practiced boredom of a man who had proce