Shoot Him if He Runs Read Online Free PDF

last PM, but then so are the profits, and the police are more…observant of the citizens.” Thomas nodded toward the island’s central mountain in the distance; its top was shrouded in fog. “The old man is wearing his gray hair today,” he said. “Did you ever go to up to the top of Black Mountain?”
    “No, I seemed to spend most of my time in a courtroom last time.”
    “Ah, yes,” Thomas said, smiling. “I read about the exploits of the lovely Allison and her evil husband in Palm Beach a couple of years ago. They’ve been put away, I believe.”
    “That’s so, and I’m glad to have had a hand in it. I had dinner with the president of the United States last night, and he told me that she requests a pardon every year.”
    Thomas looked amazed. “You had dinner with the president?”
    “Along with about three hundred other people,” Stone said, “but I did get to chat with him for a couple of minutes.”
    “You’re coming up in the world, Stone.”
    “Not really; it was my first White House dinner, and I expect it will be my last.”
    Thomas turned through a pair of large stone gateposts with a brass plaque bearing the legend “English Harbour Inn,” and below that another plaque identifying the inn as a Relais de Campagne hotel.
    “You got in the Relais? You’re coming up in the world, too.” The Relais was an international organization of luxury hotels and country inns and restaurants.
    “Well, at least I didn’t have to bribe anybody,” Thomas said. “I applied, they showed up and inspected the place, and I got that little plaque for my gate.”
    “You didn’t even have a gate last time I was here.”
    Thomas laughed and turned off the main drive onto a smaller road. A moment later he stopped the car beside a stone cottage with a roof of palm thatch. The sea lapped against a powdery white beach a few yards away. “Here we are,” he said.
    A man wearing a white cotton jacket and a black bow tie materialized next to the car and opened the doors.
    “This is Jacob Marlow, your butler,” Thomas said. He nodded at a plump woman in a white dress, standing in the doorway of the cottage. “And that is Hilda, his wife, who will help take care of you. I’ve booked a table for you in the restaurant at eight; I’ll see you then.” Thomas shook Stone’s hand, got in the car and drove away.
    The cottage consisted of a large, comfortably furnished living room with a well-stocked bar in one corner and two bedrooms, en suite. There was also a small, book-lined study with a desk and a sofa. Ceiling fans kept the air moving, and air conditioning seemed unnecessary. A large flat-screen television set was built into a wall unit in the living room, and each bedroom had a smaller set.
    “Mr. Barrington, would you and your guests like a drink before Hilda and I unpack for you?”
    “Thank you, Jacob, you go ahead, and I’ll do the drinks.”
    “Would you like something pressed?”
    “The blue blazer and the white linen trousers,” Stone asked.
    Jacob took similar instructions from the others, then dematerialized.
    Stone went to the bar, made a batch of vodka gimlets and served them from a tray. Everyone relaxed.
    “Well,” Genevieve said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m glad I came.” She gave Dino a kiss.
    “I’ll drink to that,” Holly/Ginny said, raising her glass. “And here’s to Stone remembering my name.”
    As they took their first sips of their gimlets two gunshots rang out, at a not very great distance. Holly started to get to her feet, but Stone stopped her.
    “Holly, never run toward gunfire, unless you’re the police, and you are no longer the police.”
    They continued to sip their drinks, but the mood had changed.

7
    A t seven-thirty they walked up to the main building and into the open-air restaurant. A long bar occupied one side of the room, and a steel band was playing at one end of it. Stone estimated there were about fifty tables in the restaurant, and