Kill Fee (A Stevens and Windermere Novel)
The new Stevens and Windermere novel from one of the most dazzlingly acclaimed new writers in crime fiction.
The billionaire picked a heck of a way to die. On a beautiful Saturday in downtown Saint Paul, Minnesota, state investigator Kirk Stevens and FBI special agent Carla Windermere, witness the assassination of one of the state’s wealthiest men. The shooter is a young man, utterly unremarkable…except for the dead look in his eyes.
And it’s only the beginning. The events of that sunny springtime day will lead Stevens and Windermere across the country, down countless blind alleys, and finally to a very flourishing twenty-first century enterprise: a high-tech murder-for-hire social media website. But just who has the dead-eyed shooter targeted next…and who’s choosing his victims?
turning in a slow circle, seeing it all. Police on both sides. Guns drawn everywhere. This was game over. The end of the line. This was where Malcolm Lind died. And good riddance. Slowly, he brought the pistol up from his hip. The voices were urgent now, screaming at him. Lind ignored them. He brought the gun up. Paused for a second. Closed his eyes. Then, before he could stop himself, he shoved the barrel into his mouth and searched out the trigger. 216 Stop.” A woman’s voice
pause. “I’m in transit.” “Good,” Parkerson said. “Thanks for calling. We’ll be in touch soon.” “You’re welcome.” Nothing else. The call disconnected. Parkerson put the phone down and leaned back in his chair. Swiveled around until he was staring out his vast picture window at the forest beyond, feeling the tension dissipate. Parkerson replayed the Saturday phone call in his head and wondered again if the job had been worth the risk. The client had sounded desperate, unhinged.
defective asset, all of them either too fucked up in the head or not quite fucked up enough for the job. Little by little, though, Parkerson had learned how to choose the right candidates. Mastered the training regimen. Slowly but surely, the attrition level dwindled. And, just as surely, the program began to thrive. Still, even the good assets came with expiry dates, no matter how good they were. This current kid, Lind, was on his fifth kill, geriatric in asset years, and Parkerson knew
would say. Kick her out, or kill her. Lind looked at the girl. She was very small, five feet if she was lucky. He could kill her easily if he needed to. Caity spun around to look at him, her eyes wide. “What do you do, Richard?” She kept calling him Richard. She’d asked him his name in the store. Waited as he searched his brain, fighting off the headache that threatened to overwhelm him. Then she’d answered herself—“It’s Richard, right? Richard O’Brien?”—and he’d felt the panic get worse.
on Arch Street,” the man told him. “At North 19th Street. In unit 1604 there’s a man waiting. Tomorrow you’ll go to his apartment. You’ll gain entry however you’re able. Eliminate the target and extricate yourself without being detected. Do you understand?” The asset nodded. Imagined a life without the visions. “Yes, sir,” he said. “How will I eliminate this target?” “This is a rush job,” said the man. “I didn’t have time to arrange any tools. Inside the apartment, you’ll find a pistol in