Point of Control Read Online Free Page A

else besides revenge and mental illness might have driven Thurgood to leave his job, his wife, and his country without a word?
    Money came to mind.

C HAPTER 6
    Tuesday, March 17, 6:15 a.m., San Jose, California
    Bailey hurried out of her hotel room for a quick walk. Exercise for the sake of exercise bored her, but her desk job, combined with the sitting required for travel, took its toll on her body. So she made herself go for at least one short walk a day, and she preferred to go early because she hated to sweat. The only time she made an exception was during long overnight operations. Takedowns she loved, but stakeouts were the pits. Being trapped in a surveillance van with another agent for long stretches really tested her mental discipline and social skills, which were mostly contrived. But since joining the CIRG team, her work rarely involved stakeouts anymore.
    She surprised herself and walked all the way to the bay and back, enjoying the scenery and the warm air. In the hotel, she checked her watch, surprised she’d been gone forty minutes. Forty. Her next birthday loomed over her, and she dreaded it. Forty was hard to wrap her head around. How could she keep thinking of herself as young after that? She could look the part, though. Enzymes and laser facials had helped her look and feel better for years.
    Bailey showered, dressed in dark forest green—to look serious without actually wearing black—and climbed into her rental car. Her first stop would be the morgue to see the dead man for herself. It would have been better to examine the crime scene, but the bureau was typically called in after the fact, unless they were working a multistate serial killer. She’d been on two such cases, so she had some experience searching for globe-trotting murderers, but she usually ended up with oddball investigations that didn’t fit standard categories. This one could turn out to be both.
     
    With the help of GPS, the medical examiner’s office was fairly easy to find, a few blocks off the 880 highway. But the parking was limited, and she had to find a space a block or so away. Inside, she showed her ID, waited while the receptionist made a call, then followed her back to the autopsy room. A dark-skinned man with a glistening bald head greeted her with a slight Indian accent. “Ms. Bailey. Thank you for coming. I’m Dr. Sharish.” She nodded, relieved he didn’t offer his gloved hand.
    “Where’s the body?” Too abrupt, she realized.
    “This way.” He spun toward a wall of large stainless-steel drawers, pulled one open, and removed the white covering.
    Bailey stared at the dead man. His skin was purple and his limbs contorted.
    “You can see from the bruising that he took quite a beating, then died immediately afterward.” Dr. Sharish scowled, the wrinkles on his forehead rippling up toward his scalp. “But there are no edges to any of the contusions and they overlap, so I can’t determine the weapon.”
    Nick Bowman had been pushed out of a plane or helicopter. A rather elaborate way for a mentally ill man to commit a revenge murder. But Thurgood was a scientist, and he may have had a reason. She looked up at the medical examiner. “This man was dropped from the sky, and I need to know exactly when.”
    The ME’s eyes widened. “That would certainly explain the condition of the body.” He stepped back and checked a clipboard on a nearby counter. “I estimated his time of death at between five and ten a.m. Saturday morning. It’s fortunate that his body was discovered so quickly. He could have just as easily lain there for weeks.”
    Someone had flown over the state park and dumped him in the dark or early morning. Had the killer planned to push him out or had Bowman caused a problem during the flight? Who had been piloting the craft while all that went on?
    She was starting to think Thurgood might be another victim rather than the killer. On her flight the night before, she’d researched rare earth