Ghost Sniper: A Sniper Elite Novel by Scott McEwen, Thomas Koloniar Page A

just a man—a man with a helluva lot of information at his disposal and a brain big enough to make sense of it.”
    She chuckled. “Sounds like a superpower to me.”
    “Touché.”
    They placed their orders with the waitress.
    “How’s Paolina?”
    He smiled. “Three months pregnant.”
    She sat back, a little stunned, a little envious. Crosswhite was so much different from the last time she’d seen him. Calmer somehow. He had saved her life in Havana, and she’d kept a special place in her heart for him since then—which was odd, because she couldn’t stand him when they’d first met. “Congratulations,” she said quietly.
    “Thank you,” he said, knowing that Mariana had initially disapproved of him marrying a former prostitute.
    “Aren’t you afraid of starting a family, considering the work you do?”
    He stared across the lake. “It’s not something I think about. Life’s too short.”
    “And it can turn on a dime,” she warned. “We both know that.”
    He looked at her, recalling her rape in Havana; how she’d nearly been killed and how he’d beaten both of her assailants to death. “How are you?”
    “I’m okay,” she said truthfully. “I have days that are tough, but the work helps, and I’ve got a good therapist.”
    “Are you seeing anyone?”
    She nodded. “He’s a nice guy—a lawyer. He has no idea what I really do for a living, so I’m not sure how long it will last. I don’t make a very good liar.”
    Crosswhite took a pensive drag from a cigarette. “One day at a time.”
    She was squeezing a wedge of lime into her beer. “So exactly what the hell is going on down here?”
    “I’ve been shanghaied by the PFM.”
    “Because of the Downly assassination?”
    He nodded. “You heard they reported Chance Vaught dead this morning?”
    “Yeah, Pope gave me the heads-up.”
    “Well, he’s been shanghaied along with me as a witness against Serrano—which Pope must already know as well—but I’m not sure he knows there’s an American GI running down here doing hits for the Ruvalcabas. A Ranger sniper. He’s the one who blew Downly away.”
    The latter came as a surprise to Mariana. “Have you told Fields?”
    “Fields knows, but I don’t know how much intel he’s kicking upstairs to Pope. He told me over the phone this was his operation. I don’t like the sound of that, so I want you in the loop.”
    “That’s fine with me, but Fields might not like it.”
    “Fuck Fields. He’s a spook. I understand why Pope is using him, but I don’t trust the guy.”
    “But if Pope trusts him, doesn’t that sort of—”
    “Sort of what?” He watched her eyes. “Do you assume we can trust Pope?”
    She sat up straight. “Since when don’t you trust him?”
    He shrugged, his wary eyes scanning the passersby. “Let’s say I’ve learned a few things about him. Nothing to doubt his patriotism, but it’s still the last refuge of a scoundrel.”
    Her face twisted into a sardonic smile. “Remember what you told me last spring? You said this is the business that we’re in, and if I couldn’t live with it, to find something else to do.”
    “And I stand by that. All I’m saying is that Pope’s trust in Clemson Fields shouldn’t automatically translate into our trust in Clemson Fields.”
    “Fair enough,” she conceded. “Should I mention your doubts about Fields to Pope or keep them to myself?”
    “Pope’s sharp enough to read between the lines. Besides, we’re not going to change his mind about anything. He’s already a dozen moves ahead of us, and he’s going to do whatever the hell he wants.”
    “You do realize,” she remarked, “that he’s probably the single most powerful man in Washington now—after the president.”
    Crosswhite exhaled smoke through his nose. “And Congress loves him. After saving San Diego from the nuke last year and surviving two assassination attempts in the same week, they see him as the hero-protector.”
    She sat chewing