D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) by James P. Sumner Page A

talk…”
    “We’re done talking. I’m gone, you understand me? I’m out.”
    “You’re out ?” Jones laughed, clearly exaggerating it to make a point. “People like me and you, we don’t get out , Jericho. If you go down this path, there’s no going back. Do you understand? If you do this, I can’t help you.”
    Jericho felt a burst of anger inside, and he clenched his jaw tight to suppress it. He took some deep breaths as he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing people to walk around him.
    “I don’t need your help, you sonofabitch! You just better hope I don’t see you again.”
    He clicked the phone off and dropped it on the floor, stamping down hard on it as he walked quickly back toward the hotel.

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA, USA
    April 20 th , 2017
     
     
     
    01:26 EDT
    Julius Jones sat behind his desk, staring at the phone in his hand as it emitted a low, uninterrupted beep. His dark, unblinking eyes were wide; the calm, executive demeanor he’d portrayed during his conversation with Jericho Stone had left him, and only concern remained.
    The door to his office burst open and Steve, a junior analyst who reported to Jones, rushed in wearing a headset and comms unit. Jones looked up, meeting the man’s gaze.
    “Well?” he asked.
    “We got him, sir,” replied the analyst. “He was calling from a cell phone in downtown L.A. The signal stopped abruptly, so I’m guessing he destroyed the SIM card, but you were on the line long enough to complete the trace.”
    “Thank you,” said Jones, sounding distracted. “Oh, and Steve…?”
    The analyst had turned to leave, but stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Yes, sir?”
    “Delete the trace request from the system. Give me the exact location, hand written—don’t log it in a report. This is classified, and a matter of national security. Understood?”
    “Yes, sir,” said Steve, nodding; his eyes unable to hide the trace of excitement.
    “That’ll be all, thanks.”
    As the junior analyst closed the door behind him, Jones stood and paced around his office, which was located on the top floor of the CIA’s headquarters. He had worked for the agency for over half his life, and for the first time in a long time, he was worried. Maybe even a little afraid.
    He ran his hand over his head; the tight, graying curls of his hair feeling coarse on his palm. Nearing retirement age, Jones was a fiercely intelligent man, and had been a senior analyst and chief advisor to many directors over the years.
    He looked down at his hand, studying the dark, leathery skin as it quivered slightly. Was that through fear? Or something else?
    He took a deep breath and walked back over to his desk, picking up the phone and dialing an extension number.
    “Director Matthews, please,” he said as it was answered. “Tell him it’s urgent.”
    After a few moments of nervous silence, a voice came on the line. It was stern and authoritative, with just a hint of fatigue.
    “Julius? It’s late, so make this good,” said Director Matthews, abruptly.
    Distracted by the current predicament, Julius dispensed with the formalities. “Tom, we have a problem. A very big problem.”
    “What is it?” he asked.
    Julius closed his eyes momentarily, summoning the courage to deliver the news. “It’s Jericho Stone,” he said. “He’s... he’s alive.”

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, USA
    April 20 th , 2017
     
     
     
    08:50 PDT
    The next morning, Jericho left Julie sleeping and headed out to buy them both a change of clothes and some breakfast. He was still dressed like a GlobaTech operative, and she still had her nurse’s uniform on, so they were both in need of a wardrobe change.
    He’d found a department store that opened early, so he picked the first thing he could find that fit his large frame—a pair of light blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a tan, zip-through hooded sweater. He kept the boots he was wearing.
    He guessed Julie’s size, and picked out a similar