Assumed Identity (1993) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Someone who isn't obvious. Someone she trusts.'
    'I'll get started immediately.'
    'You've disappointed me,' the old man said. 'Your success in Chicago and Guatemala was so encouraging that I'd arranged a reward for you. Now, I'm afraid, I'll have to withhold it.'
    An intercom buzzed on a table beside the old man's chair. He pressed a button. 'I told you not to interrupt me.'
    'Sheik Hazim is returning your telephone call, Professor,' a female voice said.
    'Of course. I'll speak to him.' The old man rested his hand on the telephone beside the intercom. But before he picked it up, he told his visitor, his voice stern and flinty, 'Don't disappoint me again.' He adjusted the flow of red liquid that drained from an intravenous bottle into his arm - blood treated with hormones from unborn lambs. 'Find the bitch before she ruins everything. If Delgado discovers she's loose, if he discovers she's out of control, he'll go after her and possibly us.'
    'I can deal with Delgado.'
    'Of that, I have no doubt. Without Delgado, however, I can't do business. I can't get access to the ruins. And that would make me very unhappy. You do not want to be near me when I am unhappy.'
    'No, sir.'
    'Get out.'
    *
    PART TWO

    Chapter 1.
    Cancun, Mexico.
    All the hotels were shaped like Mayan temples, a row of terraced pyramids along the four-lane highway dividing the sandbar that until twenty-five years ago had been uninhabited. Buchanan ignored them and the red, brick sidewalk along which, concentrating, he walked with deceptive calm. As twilight thickened into night, what he paid attention to were the disturbing proximity of tourists before and behind him, the threatening rumble and glare of traffic passing him on the right, and the ominous shadows among the palm trees that flanked the hotels on his left.
    Something was wrong. Every instinct and intuition warned him. His stomach felt rigid. He tried to tell himself that he was merely experiencing the equivalent of stage fright. But his experience of too many dangerous missions had taught him the hard way to pay attention to the visceral, warning signals that alerted him when something wasn't as it should be.
    But what? Buchanan strained to analyze. Your preparation was thorough. Your bait for the target is perfect. Why in God's name are you so nervous?
    Burn-out? Too many assignments? Too many identities? Too many high-wire, juggling acts?
    No, Buchanan mentally insisted. I know what I'm doing. After eight years, after having survived this long, I recognize the difference between nerves and.
    Relax. You're on top of things. Give yourself a break. It's hot. It's muggy. You're under stress. You've done this a hundred times before. Your plan is solid. The bottom line is quit second-guessing. Get control of your doubts, and do your job.
    Sure, Buchanan thought. But he wasn't convinced. Maintaining his deceptively leisurely pace in spite of the pressure in his chest, he shifted leftward, relieved to escape the threatening traffic. Past the equally threatening shadows of the dense, colorfully flowered shrubs that lined the driveway, he proceeded warily up the curving entrance toward the glistening, Mayan-temple shape of Club Internacional.

    Chapter 2.
    Buchanan's appointment was for nine-thirty, but he took care to arrive ten minutes early in order to survey the meeting place and verify that nothing about the site had changed to jeopardize the rendezvous. For the past three evenings, he'd visited this hotel exactly at this time, and on each occasion, he'd satisfied himself that the location was perfect.
    The problem was that this night wasn't those other nights. A plan that existed perfectly on paper had to match the'real world,' and the real world had a dangerous habit of changing from day to day. A fire might have damaged the building. Or the site might be so unusually crowded that a discreet, nonetheless damning conversation could be easily overheard. An exit might be blocked. There were too many