Cookie Cutter Man by Elias Anderson Page A

hundred subjects in the first wave.”
    “How do we know which pig to pick?” Ebin asked.
    Jared told them: “Run this asshole through the database
again and cross-reference him with all the other files. Find the ones with the
most common threads in our area and go from there.”
    “Who’s doing the grunt work?” Simon asked.
    “I will,” Daniel volunteered. “You mean bringing one in,
right? I’ll do it. I need to do it.”
    Jared nodded. “OK. Let’s start looking for candidate number
two.”
    They sat down in front of the computer and plugged the
stiff’s file back in. The closest match was a white guy by the name of David
Bailey. He went to Harvard and studied business and criminal law; after
graduation he enlisted in the Army and excelled as a member of the Green
Berets. He did a tour of duty in Afghanistan and then, like Wills, was off radar
for about two years. He cropped back up leading a private security force
similar to Blackwater, and then went into the C.I.A. He was last spotted in the
area six days ago.
    “Interesting post-script to this guy.” Simon said, and tried
not to smile. “We believe he’s the one that put the converter on your
television.”
    Daniel stared at the face on the screen, burning it into his
memory. The flesh had a doughy look, as though his time out of the field had
been punctuated by weight gain.
    “This guy’s been in my place?” Daniel asked.
    “Twice. He lives at 615 Clarkson Street,” Simon read off the
screen. “In the penthouse.”
    “Can’t you tap into his TV like you did mine, and see if
he’s there?” Daniel asked.
    Jared shook his head. “Nope. You’ll have to go there and
find out.”
    “So should I kill him and bring him here or what?” Daniel
asked, sounding more sure of himself than he really felt. Could he really pull
the trigger on this guy?
    “No,” Simon said. “Try using a little cunning and finesse.
It’ll keep you off the six o’clock news. But kill him if you have to.”
    “Go home first,” Jared said. “We’ve had a long day. Start on
Monday.”
    Daniel turned to leave, and then stopped. “Oh, by the way, I
told Echo I was being promoted and had to come in for training.”
    “Good excuse.”
    “Well, I’m gonna need a raise, aren’t I?”
    “Get outta here, you fuckin’ con man,” Jared laughed.
     
    Daniel looked up at the round white face of the moon and saw
the face of the man that had been in his apartment.
    “This is nice, baby.” Echo squeezed his hand a little,
bringing him back into himself. He squeezed back. They were taking a walk,
something they used to do often but hadn’t had the chance to do recently.
    “So you’re done with ... everything, right?” she asked, her
voice growing a little quiet.
    “Aw angel, don’t start, huh?” He’d had a headache all day.
    “But you’re done?”
    “Yeah. I’m out.” What she didn’t know really didn’t concern
her. He felt lying was justified; this was his job now. It was part of
his life and he wanted it that way, but he wanted her as part of it too. If he
had to lie about this one thing, he would.
    She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand again. They
finished their Sunday walk and went home for Sunday love.
     
    The next morning Daniel was up at quarter after six. He
dressed in a hurry and kissed Echo goodbye, telling her he had to go in early
for the rest of the week for more training. He took his case and was about to
head out the door when her voice stopped him.
    “What’s in there?”
    “Huh?”
    “That briefcase. What’s in it?”
    “Oh, just shit for work. Training manuals and the phone
scripts and stuff.” What if she wanted to see …
    Yeah what if? You gonna shoot her?
    She yawned and lay back on the pillow again. “Love you,” she
said, already half asleep.
    “Love you too.”
    Daniel left the house and drove to a different parking
garage where they had left the little red pickup for him, and switched
vehicles. On Clarkson he parked