Closure: Jack Randall #1 (Volume 1)
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When a prominent lawyer is shot while waiting at a suburban stop sign it sets off a nation-wide manhunt for an elusive killer. Special Agent Jack Randall of the FBI finds himself appointed to track down and stop the shooter. Not by his superiors, but by the killer himself. As more bodies fall the shooter takes his message to the press, earning the support of the public with his choice of targets and confounding the FBI at every turn. From the desert of Nevada to the urban jungle of New York City, Jack and his team follow the trail of bodies and haunting messages left behind by the killer. With the pressure to find him mounting on Jack, the assassin’s crimes grow bolder, and his message more sinister and closer to home. It becomes clear to Jack that in order to find the shooter, he may have to look inside his own past, and become the man he was years ago.
Christmas card, and the whole thing was shown next. The sight of his wife and daughter on the television brought back a wave of memories and Sam watched in dread as the story of their death was once again news, this time on a national level. As the story turned to sports, Sam snapped out of the fog he was in. His identity was now public, and he was stuck with whatever he had with him to get by. He did some quick thinking before getting to his feet. The young man who had checked him in last night
enough to cover the large crowded lobby. He exited the stair entrance casually and walked a few yards to the kitchen entrance. He proceeded through the servers’ area until he came to the stairwell leading to the laundry facilities. He ignored the stares of the staff and scanned the room, looking for his target. Another door presented itself and he opened it to feel a blast of warm moist air. The smell of lubricating oil filled his nostrils. The old boiler room. While the hotel was modern
just make out a voice. Sounded like it was being broadcast through a speaker. He was close. Turning off the flashlight, he proceeded slowly until he could make out the light of the station. When the stairs were in sight, he reached in the bag and pulled out the hard hat. Donning it, he walked directly to the stairs and up onto the busy platform. He was soon surrounded by late night commuters waiting for their trains. The voice announcing arrivals and departures continued to sound overhead. He
shooter we were chasing was your personal friend.” He held up a hand before Jack could interrupt. “I know it wasn’t your fault, but the way things ended on live TV didn’t make you or the Bureau look good. That senator had a lot of friends. I’m not sure why your name came up for this, but Africa is a long way from DC and maybe that’s why, they could just want you farther away. If you find something and do well they can say they always had faith in you, and they look good for backing you and the
some fancy light; it was a highly effective listening device. By shining the light on a pane of glass, it allowed him to use it as a sounding board. Any sound made in the room vibrated the glass. The laser detected these vibrations, and was able to convert them back into sound that was transmitted through the earphones that Sam was now wearing. He had spent the afternoon tuning the laser to the size and thickness of the MGM Grand windows. He had Profit’s room down to a possibility of three, and