D. Daniel Judson - The rogue agent

PRAISE FOR DANIEL JUDSON

Daniel Judson is so much more than a crime-fiction novelist. Hes a tattooed poet, a mad philosopher of the Apocalypse fascinated with exploring the darkest places in peoples souls.

Chicago Tribune on The Waters Edge

Shamus winner Judson once again successfully mines Long Islands South Fork for glittering noir nuggets.

Publishers Weekly on The Violet Hour

A suspense masterpiece.

Bookreporter.com on The Violet Hour

Judson hits you with a 25,000-volt stun gun in chapter one and doesnt let up until the satisfying end.

Alafair Burke, author of , on Voyeur

Judson is a thoroughly accomplished writer.

Kirkus Reviews on Voyeur

A searing, brooding look at the bleak side of the Hamptons... an intense novel.

South Florida Sun-Sentinel on The Darkest Place

Action packed. Loss and redemption rule in Shamus Awardwinning Daniel Judsons third novel, set in Southampton nights so cold that they could cool off a reader sizzling in this summers heat. Its noir on ice.

USA Today on The Darkest Place

This taut thriller is far from predictable, and its dark and mysterious plot suits Judsons understated writing style.

Publishers Weekly on The Poisoned Rose

OTHER TITLES BY DANIEL JUDSON

The Agent Series

The Temporary Agent

The Gin Palace Trilogy

The Poisoned Rose

The Bone Orchard

The Gin Palace

The Southampton Trilogy

The Darkest Place

The Waters Edge

Voyeur

Stand-Alone Titles

The Betrayer

Avenged

The Violet Hour

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Text copyright 2017 by Daniel Judson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

www.apub.com

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781503940772

ISBN-10: 1503940772

Cover design by Rex Bonomelli

for my family, those born to and those acquired

Contents

Prologue

Tom awakens to the sound of barking in the distance.

It takes all he has to keep from immediately sitting up, as any abrupt movement will disturb the sleeping woman beside him.

Not just asleep but deeply asleep, judging by the length and rhythm of her breathing.

Stellas state is the first thing Tom determines. The second thing he does is tune in to the far-off noise so he can assess its nature.

Is it the frantic, endless barking of a dog whose territory has been crossed by another animal? Or is it a more aggressive snapping, an indication of an intruder somewhere nearby? Maybe even more than one, possibly a team of men currently heading in their direction?

Men coming to kill them.

But Tom doesnt hear any of that.

The commotion coming from the farm two miles to the south is the lazy yelping of a hound bothered by the full moon.

The barking isnt anything to worry about.

And anyway, that isnt what had actually awakened him.

Tom checks the clock on his bedside table and sees that it is a few minutes past one a.m.

He has slept for three hours and will need to get up in less than three more.

That is, if he can fall back to sleep right away, which isnt always the case postdream.

Out of habit, he confirms that his .45-caliber pistol is where he left it, to the right of the clock, and that the old Marlin Camp carbine they had found upon moving in is still leaning in the corner.

Chambered in .45 as well, the Marlin has a sixteen-inch barrel that, while offering some accuracy at a range that the handgun cant, makes it particularly well suited for close-quarter combat.

For Tom, the real plus is that the carbine not only uses the same ammo as his pistola well-used 70-series Colt 1911but also accepts the same magazine.

A significant convenience in the numerous scenarios for which he and Stella have prepared.

On the nightstand next to the pistol lie a half dozen fully loaded McCormick Power Mags, which Tom can easily gather together in an emergency. Next to them is a 600-lumen pocket flashlight.

He has long since come to terms with the fact that the need for such weaponry has extended into his civilian life. A peaceful wanderer once, he has now in Stella something he can never lose.

After a moment, Tom carefully rises from their bed and heads toward the bathroom to wash his face.

The nightmare always leaves him in a cold sweat.

Their apartment is above the small breakfast-and-lunch place that he and Stella run togethershe waits on the eight booths and ten-seat counter; he buses tables, washes dishes, and handles repairs and whatever else the business needs.

Open six days a week, serving from five a.m. to two p.m.

The staff is Stella, himself, and a gifted short-order cook named Krista, who came looking for work right when they feared theyd never find anyone. The timing of her appearance has always struck Tom as too good to be true, but such things do occur. And anyway, more than just qualified, she is, in Stellas words, capable, and that is what mattered, that is what they needed.

Stella would never have purchased the building had Tom not possessed the variety of skills necessary to bring the place up to code.

As a onetime US Navy Seabee, Tom could easily do whatever needed to be done, and yet a months workday and night, seven days a weekwas what it had taken to get the dilapidated structure ready for both business and personal occupancy.

During that time Tom had also made a number of specific modifications to their bare-minimum living quarters, among them a makeshift safe room, which hed rendered bulletproof by securing old phone books and encyclopedias to its door and walls, after which hed covered the protective layer with ceramic tiles.

It had taken a week after completing that work for Tom and Stella to get the restaurant stocked and ready to open.

Their living area remains a work in progress, but these days they are more concerned with securityfinancial as well as tacticalthan comfort. Stella had only a small amount of savings left over after closing on the property, and much of that was used up during the renovations.

The little she has left is all they will have to run on, should that time come.

In the bathroom, Tom opens the tap, knowing hell need to wait a good half minute before the water begins its transition from frigid cold to hot. Looking into the cracked mirror over the sink, he is reminded of the nightmare by the sorrow evident in his eyes.

A nightmare he has been having with increasing frequency over the past year.

He had learned in the months following the murder of his mother and sister that four men had entered his childhood home that long-ago night.