Crime Zero Read Online Free PDF

me, I'd much rather have a drink with you. But I can't. I can't do it tonight either, I'm afraid; I'm seeing my grandfather. And I'm due back to Washington tomorrow." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card and scribbled something on the back. "Look, I'll be around San Francisco more often in the future. This is my grandfather's address; it's the old family house in the Marina. Give me a call, and we'll catch up when I'm next here. For all I know, you're married with kids by now."
    Kathy paused to look into his eyes, but they were giving nothing away. "I've been far too busy to get married, Luke," she said simply. In fact she'd had only three relationships worth talking about in the intervening years, all of which had been at best forgettable. She wasn't short of offers, just offers from people she liked. And apart from the occasional dinner date, usually with men who turned out to have less charm than the contents of a petri dish, she had been single and celibate for the last thirteen months and three weeks, not that she was counting. She reached into her jacket and handed Decker her card. "Anyway, here's where you can contact me when you're next here."
    "Thanks," he said. But as soon as they both pocketed each other's cards, she knew they probably wouldn't meet again for at least another nine years. There was simply no reason to. It surprised her how sad this made her feel.
    She shook his hand. "Good-bye, Luke. I hope your killer on death row tells you what you want to know."

    Chapter 3.
    Baghdad, Iraq.Wednesday, October 29, 5:13 P.M.
    Salah Khatib could barely see for the sweat pouring off his brow. But his condition had little to do with the heat of the windowless chamber beneath the barracks of Baghdad's Al Taji Camp.
    "What are you waiting for? Shoot them!" hissed the captain, his face inches from Private Khatib's ear, his breath hot on his cheek.
    Khatib locked his elbow and aimed the heavy pistol at the nearest of the four men kneeling on the floor in front of him, but still he couldn't prevent his hand from shaking.
    The four men in uniforms like his own had been caught trying to desert two nights ago. The rumors of the advance south to retake the province of Kuwait had excited most of his fellow soldiers. After all, they were the Northern Corps Armored Division of the elite Republican Guard; it would be their invincible tanks that led the assault. But these four cowards had chosen to desert, not from some conscripted troop but from the well-fed, well-trained Tenth Brigade. These dogs deserved to die. Bullets were a kindness to their shame.
    He even knew two of the men and hated them. They had made his life hell when he first joined. But now, given the opportunity to kill them, he couldn't pull the trigger.

    And he couldn't understand why.
    Khatib loved the army, wanted nothing more than to obey its orders. He had joined two years ago and had never been more content. A twenty-one-year-old mechanic from the back streets of Tikrit, he had been caught in a failed gang robbery, but because of his gift with machines, he had been given a choice of jail or the army. The armored division had given him a sense of direction and belonging he had never felt before. Only a week ago he had received the full batch of vaccinations for going to war. He was destined to be a hero. So why couldn't he obey his captain's order?
    Two of the men were looking up at him now, as if aware that something was wrong.
    "Shoot them!" The captain seethed, his lips almost touching Khatib's ear.
    "Sir, we can shoot them," whispered Ali Keram, one of the five other soldiers standing at the back of the chamber.
    "No," said the captain, his face red with rage. He pulled a revolver from his holster and pushed it into Khatib's temple. "I gave an order to Private Khatib, and he will obey it. If you don't follow my orders, I will shoot you dead. Now do your duty."
    Using the sleeve of his tunic, Khatib rubbed the sweat from his face, the