The clock was closing in on three in the afternoon here in London.
That would make it almost ten in the morning in Philadelphia. All correct.
He rubbed his hands together.
Seventy seconds. He could do this. Hecoulddo this. He ... felt powerful and ready to join W’s operation. Sweat ran down his face. He yanked his tie loose and pulled the stinking collar open.
He’d never wear another bloody suit in his life.
Powerful men did as they pleased. He’d have a dozen women clamoring to please him.
Fifty-eight seconds.
Breathe. Keep calm. He was ready to rule his own empire. W could rule the world and Kovac would be more loyal than anyone else in his circle.
Why was this damn clock so slow?
Forty seconds.
He’d be wealthy beyond his imagination, which would finally have no limits.
With Phoebe and Hallene permanently out of the way, he’d send someone to finish off their mother as well. Get rid of two ball and chains at one time.
Had W dealt with Hallene? Kovac couldn’t believe his man Crusher had failed, but W sounded confident he would terminate all headaches connected to this mission. The minute Kovac punched the button, he had to wait fifteen seconds then punch in a code that would completely wipe this laptop.
He could not wait to have the ability to pay the best hitman and find someone with the level of computer knowledge who created W’s program.
Someone easy to corrupt.
Eighteen seconds.
Yes!
Sixteen!
Noises erupted outside his door. That bitch assistant had been instructed to not bother him under any circumstances.
Twelve seconds.
The door burst open.
He stood and shouted, “Get out!”
Something hit him in the chest and sent a charge of electricity through his body. He flopped on the ground like a caught fish, crying and shaking.
A large man walked over to stand above him. “My name is Logan and you’re under arrest as an international terrorist.”
Kovac peed himself.
