At the Edge of the Sun Read Online Free PDF Page A

flashed another brilliant smile at the customs official wading through the fourth suitcase. The bemused official smiled back.
    Maggie nodded. “See if he follows me.”
    The row of telephones were well within sight of the customs tables. Green Eyes was lucky, he could watch them both from his vantage point with the London
Times
shielding him. At that moment he seemed far more interested in Holly than her sister, a fact Maggie noticed without a traceof rancor. Holly was absolutely right, she thought as she dealt with the vagaries of transatlantic telephones. He was staring at her with intense dislike, if not outright hatred.
    Such animosity was unnerving and completely unexpected. As far as Maggie knew, Holly had no enemies. If she lived a butterfly existence, the very rootlessness that kept involvement away also kept hatred away. There were no deep emotions, either negative or positive, to interfere with her admittedly shallow existence.
    Could the man be Flynn? He hardly seemed Sybil’s type. He was too sturdy, too pugnacious, too lacking in charm or beauty to appeal to someone of Sybil’s exacting tastes. Of course, his eyes were quite beautiful, but Sybil was more into handsome faces and broad backs. No, it couldn’t be Flynn, and Flynn worked alone, without accomplices. Besides, Holly would have recognized him.
    Maybe he was just a nutcase, a random psycho who preyed on beautiful women. Holly’s face was famous enough if one was a reader of
Vogue
or
Elle
. Somehow Maggie doubted Green Eyes was into high fashion.
    Slowly she replaced the receiver. No change in Sybil’s condition, damn it all. Well, no news was good news—at least she hadn’t worsened. Maggie crossed the room, ignoring their watcher. All they needed was a weirdo complicating matters. The sooner they got through customs and into London the happier she’d be.
    There was no sign of Green Eyes when they climbed into their taxi. Maggie leaned back against the seat, next to Holly’s slender shoulders, and looked out the back window of the cab. The sturdy silhouette of the driver behind them was ominously familiar. She almost fancied she could see his green eyes, still watching them.
    “Damn.” She ducked back down again. “He
is
following us.”
    Holly didn’t turn. “Did we ever have any doubt?”
    “Not really,” Maggie said with a sigh. “Do you recognize him?”
    “Never seen him before in my life,” Holly said. “Should we ask the driver to try to lose him?”
    “Not on your life. I want to find out who he is and why he’s tailing us.”
    “How do you propose to do that?”
    “Ask him politely,” Maggie said.
    “And if he won’t tell us?”
    Maggie’s smile was grim. “He’ll tell us,” she said.
    Holly eyed her warily. “I expect he will,” she said in a faint voice.

three
     
    Maggie had chosen a discreet, upper-class hotel in the heart of London, one that catered to the famous and not so famous who had the wherewithal to avoid crowds. The lobby resembled the sort of private men’s clubs she’d always imagined when she read Dorothy L. Sayers mysteries, and she half expected to find an elderly corpse propped neatly beside a potted palm.
    Checking in was accomplished with quiet efficiency, and as Maggie turned with Holly to follow their masses of luggage she kept her gaze averted from Green Eyes.
    He should look out of place in these surroundings, Maggie thought as she stepped aboard the wire cage lift. With his rough clothing, his tough, pugnacious air, he should have been like a bull in a china shop. But he wasn’t. For some strange reason he fit into the elegant surroundings as if born to them, and Maggie’s curiosity grew.
    “What are you going to do?” Holly asked as they rose above the lobby, leaving Green Eyes staring after them.
    “I told you, find out why he’s following us. I can’t jump him when you’ve commandeered half the bellboys in the place—this is the sort of thing that needs to be accomplished