Jack Higgins - Chavasse 02 Read Online Free PDF

werebreast to breast, the tall Pathan and the small Chinese. After another dull thud, Chung went rigid and slumped to the ground. For a moment he lay there kicking, then he went very still.
    Chavasse went down on one knee and examined him as Moncrieff arrived on the run. Chavasse stood up, the gun in his hand.
    â€œIs he dead?” the Dalai Lama asked.
    â€œYes,” Chavasse told him.
    â€œMay his soul be at peace.”
    â€œI’d suggest you come with me, sir,” Moncrieff said. “The fewer people who know about this the better. In fact it never happened, did it, Major?”
    â€œI’ll handle it, sir,” Hamid said. “Utmost discretion. I’ll get the head of security.”
    Moncrieff took the Dalai Lama away. Hamid said, “Pity the poor sod decided to shoot himself here, and we’ll never know why, will we? As good a story as any. You stay here, Paul. You’ll make a fine witness, and so will I.” He shook his head. “Peking has a long arm.”
    The Pathan hurried away and Chavasse lit a cigarette and went and sat on a bench by the fountain and waited.

LONDON 1962

3
    Â 
    Chavasse stood in the entrance of the Caravel Club on Great Portland Street and looked gloomily out into the driving rain. He had conducted a wary love affair with London for several years, but four o’clock on a wet November morning was enough to strain any relationship, he told himself as he stepped out onto the pavement.
    There was a nasty taste in his mouth from too many cigarettes, and the thought of the 115 pounds which had passed across the green baize tables of the Caravel didn’t help matters.
    He’d been hanging around town for too long, that was the trouble. It was now over two months since he’d returned from his vacation after the Caspar Schultz affair, and the Chief had kept him sitting behind a desk at headquarters dealingwith paperwork that any reasonably competent general-grade clerk could have handled.
    He was still considering the situation and wondering what to do about it when he turned the corner onto Baker Street, looked up casually and noticed the light in his apartment.
    He crossed the street quickly and went through the swing doors. The foyer was deserted and the night porter wasn’t behind his desk. Chavasse stood there thinking about it for a moment, a slight frown on his face. He finally decided against using the lift and went up the stairs quickly to the third floor.
    The corridor was wrapped in quiet. He paused outside the door to his apartment for a moment, listening, and then moved round the corner to the service entrance and took out his key. The plump woman who sat on the edge of the kitchen table reading a magazine as she waited for the coffeepot to boil was attractive in spite of her dark, rather severe spectacles.
    Chavasse closed the door gently, tiptoed across the room and kissed her on the nape of the neck. “I must say this is a funny time to call, but I’m more than willing,” he said with a grin.
    Jean Frazer, the Chief’s secretary, turned and looked at him calmly. “Don’t flatter yourself, and where the hell have you been? I’ve had scouts out all over Soho and the West End since eight o’clock last night.”
    A cold finger of excitement moved inside him. “Something big turned up.”
    She nodded. “You’re telling me. You’d better go in. The Chief’s been here since midnight hoping you’d turn up.”
    â€œHow about some coffee?”
    â€œI’ll bring it in when it’s ready.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you?”
    â€œWhat a hell of a wife you’d make, sweetheart,” he told her with a tired grin, and went through into the living room.
    Two men were sitting in wing-backed chairs by the fire, a chessboard on the coffee table between them. One was a stranger to Chavasse, an old white-haired