Beirut - An Explosive Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page A

luxury market, thirty metres and more.
I have a friend in the ports department here who will tell me when
this boat comes downstream through Hamburg. When it does, I will
recognise it and tell the police. Until then, I have to live. So I
sell myself.’
    It was said
so simply he almost missed it. In these four words, she gave up
everything that was hers to keep and award for love. Duggan felt
old-fashioned and stupid. He ran his hand across his forehead to
clear his conflicting thoughts. How could someone throw away so
much with so little consideration?
    ‘ Could you
not have borrowed from your friend?’
    ‘ No. I cannot
even meet him. It is too dangerous. I call him every day from a
different place.’
    ‘ Why did you
not go straight to the authorities?’
    She looked up
at him with such simple candour, he wanted to reach out to her. ‘I
am scared, Charles. I can’t trust them. Meier has connections. I
have no proof. Only with proof will they listen to me.’
    ‘ I
understand. I think.’ He rubbed his face. ‘Look, it is late. We
shall go to the authorities in the morning, I will talk to my
liaison here. We can start to discover what’s going on and make
sure you’re safe. For now, I think it best you stay here with me.
Nothing funny. I shall sleep on the sofa, you can take the
bedroom.’
    He rose and
offered his hand, which she took, turning it to examine it closely.
Elli squeezed and let go, following him to the lift. She dropped
her gaze as they rose silently, following Duggan out of the lift
and down the corridor. He opened the bedroom door for her and
followed her into the room.
    She turned to
him. ‘You have been very kind. Thank you.’
    ‘ It’s
nothing. This is the bedroom. Is there anything you would
like?’
    ‘ Do you mind
if I wash? I still feel dirty from the road.’
    ‘ Please.’
    As the shower
started, he pulled the winter over-blanket and spare pillow from
the cupboard and made up the sofa as best he could. He took his
mobile charger from the bedroom. Coming back with it, he met her,
wrapped in a towel and wearing hotel slippers, her clothes held
against her in a bundle. She smelled of lemons. Her short hair was
damp and she laughed at him.
    ‘ You look
like you have seen a ghost.’
    He smiled.
‘Good night, Elli.’
    ‘ Good night,
Charles.’
    She walked to
the bedroom and he watched her slim legs and the slow swing of the
towel on her shapely body, silhouetted against the bedroom lights
for a second. The door closed behind her and he sighed, wondering
how much of Elli Hoffmann’s wild story he could believe. He washed
and turned in, fidgeting as he tried to fit his long frame into the
short sofa.

FOUR
     
     
    Lynch sipped
his beer, screwing up his face as he surveyed the minimalist
surfaces around him. The purple mood lighting highlighted the
bottles in alcoves across the wall. The bar was quiet, but Lynch
knew it would soon fill up with the eager, loud voices of young
bucks competing for the attention of scantily clad girls with
pumped tits and lips.
    ‘ Why do you
drink in these places, Tony?’
    Tony Chalhoub
sighed as he leaned on the bar. His voice was gravelly, his accent
spiced by a curl of French. ‘I’m Lebanese, Gerald. I suffer from
the inherent need to celebrate life with each passing moment. You
should take the glass rod out of your British ass and try it
sometime.’
    Chalhoub, the
deputy head of Lebanon’s police intelligence division, raised his
bottle to clink against Lynch’s. Lynch laughed and shook his head
at his friend’s taunting. Over the years, the two had shared good
times, information, cases and even on one occasion, long ago,
women.
    ‘ That’s a
filthy habit.’
    Chalhoub lit
the cigarette, blowing smoke high into the air. ‘What the fuck
happened at Michel Freij’s place, Gerald? His office manager has
lodged a formal complaint. I had to burn valuable markers to get
the police case dropped.’
    ‘ GCHQ in
Cheltenham picked up a number of