Leon Uris Read Online Free PDF

squarely in the middle....
    Nicole stood in the doorway in her nightgown. “You look as white as a sheet. Are you ill?”
    “No ... no ... I am all right.”
    “The phone call. Was it bad news?”
    “Only Nordstrom.”
    “Would you care for some tea or a brandy?”
    “No .... Nicole, I know I promised to go up to New York with you this weekend to see Michele, but ... I may have to go out of town on business.”
    For a time she only stood. “Good night, André.”
    “Nicole.”
    “It’s all right, dear.”
    “Say it. Another disappointment. Stop making me feel guilty.”
    “You’re making yourself feel guilty. Or is there something you have to be guilty about?”
    “No.”
    “Then you don’t have to explain.”

7
    H OUND-DOG R UFFIN WAS in a spiritual mood. The great blues warbler sat before a rinky-dink piano and sang about cotton fields in the sky.
    Hound-Dog animated as his pudgy fingers lit in and out of the ivory and his foot thumped out in rhythm.
    Just a closer walk with thee,
       Credit Jesus is my plea ....
    André Devereaux entered the Market Inn, squinting to adjust to the sudden loss of daylight. Hound-Dog tipped his dark glass in a gesture of recognition.
    Michael Nordstrom waved from the bar and slid off the stool. They made for their usual booth in the rear of the room. The Market Inn was a deliberately ramshackle structure set in an unlikely location under a freeway. It was camp in the land of camp. The two intelligence men studied the faces of the diners as they made for the rear. The room was filled with the usual complement of lunching Congressmen.
    André gave passing notice to the nudes that adorned the walls, as Michael ordered steam beer and crab cakes.
    “How’s Liz?”
    “Nagging. She’s commenced with the opening shots of a campaign for a new car we can’t afford. Just a little hint, now and then. Subtle, that girl. Nicole?”
    “We speak less these days but much louder. Nicole wants me to quit the service on the pretext we should grow old gracefully and enjoy each other. Does she ask too much, Mike?”
    “Is that really what she’s asking for?”
    “No, not really. Nicole always looks upon the past as a treasured memory, forgetting how she hated it when she lived it. Like our trips to the Caribbean. She remembers the exotic sunsets and the lovemaking, but she’s conveniently forgotten the poverty, the mosquitoes, the hurricanes. But what the hell, Mike. Maybe she’s right about this. What do I have to show for twenty years in this profession?”
    “Internal hemorrhages,” Michael answered, washing down a couple of pills to coat his ulcer. “It would be hell for us if you left Washington, André. With one of President La Croix’s men in your office, relations could break down entirely. You know what I mean.
    “May I suggest my ass is getting burned from the griddle you set me on.”
    The Senate bell rang three times to indicate a vote would take place in the upper chamber in fifteen minutes. The dozen Senators present signed their checks quickly and, outside, the car-parkers had their motors running and doors open to prevent any delay in the return to the Capitol.
    The crab cakes arrived. Michael grimaced as André smothered his in a French sauce.
    “Nicole is going up to New York to see Michele and do some shopping for the embassy affair next week. I had promised to go up with her before you called. What’s so important?”
    “Does the name Boris Kuznetov mean anything to you?”
    “No. Who is he?”
    “He claims he’s a division chief in KGB.”
    “Claims?”
    “Defector. We’ve had him since last fall. He’s at Camp Patrick. He asked to see you by name.”
    “Well, isn’t that interesting.”
    “I’m going to ask a favor of you, André. I know this is a little out of line, but don’t cable Paris about this man. At least until after you’ve spoken to him.”
    André pondered for a short moment. “Fair enough,” he said.

8
    H ENRIETTA T ODD, WIFE