Solo (Aka the Cretan Lover) (v5) Read Online Free PDF Page A

aid of international cancer research.
    There was a letter waiting for him from his London agent, Bruno Fischer, about the intinerary for a tour of England, Wales and Scotland in the autumn. He was spending some time going over it in his dressing room after the recital when there was a knock on the door and the stage doorkeeper looked in.
    'A gentleman to see you, Monsieur Mikali.'
    He was pushed out of the way and a large, burly individual with thinning hair and a heavy black moustache appeared. He wore a shabby raincoat over a crumpled tweed suit.
    'Hey, Johnny. Good to see you. Claude Jarrot - staff sergeant, Third Company, Second REP. We did that night drop at El Kebir together.'
    'I remember,' Mikali said. 'You broke an ankle.'
    'And you stayed with me when the fellagha broke through the line.' Jarrot stuck out a hand. 'I've read about you in the papers and when I saw you were giving this concert tonight, I thought I'd come along. Not for the music. It doesn't mean a damn thing to me.' He grinned. 'I couldn't pass up the chance of greeting another old Sidi-bel-Abbes hand.'
    It could be he was after a touch, he was certainly shabby enough, but his presence brought back the old days. For some reason, Mikali warmed to him.
    'I'm glad you did. I was just leaving. What about a drink? There must be a bar near here.'
    'Actually I have a garage only a block away,' Jarrot said. 'I've got a small apartment above it. I've got some good stuff in at the moment. Real Napoleon.'
    'Lead on,' Mikali said. 'Why not?'
    *
    The walls of the living-room were crowded with photos cataloguing Jarrot's career in the Legion and there were mementoes everywhere including his white kepi and dress epaulets on the sideboard.
    The Napoleon brandy was real enough and he got drunk fairly rapidly.
    'I thought they kicked you out in the Putsch?' Mikali said. 'Weren't you up to your neck in the OAS?'
    'Sure I was,' Jarrot said belligerently. 'All those years in Indo-China. I was at Dien Bien Phu, you know that? Those little yellow bastards had me for six months in a prison camp. Treated like pigs we were. Then the Algeria fiasco when the old man went and did the dirty on us. Every self-respecting Frenchman should have been OAS, not just mugs like me.'
    'Not much future in it now, surely?' Mikali said. 'The old boy showed he meant business when he had Bastien Thiry shot. How many attempts to knock him off and not one of them succeeded?'
    You're right,' Jarrot said, drinking. 'Oh, I played my part. Here, take a look.'
    He removed a rug from a wooden chest in the corner, fumbled for a key and unlocked it with difficulty. Inside there was a considerable assortment of weapons. Several machine pistols, an assortment of handguns and grenades.
    'I've had this stuff here four years,' he said. 'Four years, but the network's busted. We've had it. A man has to make out other ways these days.'
    'The garage?'
    Jarrot placed a finger against his nose. 'Come on, I'll show you. This damn bottle's empty anyway.'
    He unlocked a door at the rear of the garage and disclosed a room piled with cartons and packing cases of every description. He opened one and extracted another bottle of Napoleon brandy.
    'Told you there was more.' He waved an arm. 'More of everything here. Any kind of booze you want. Cigarettes, canned food. Be cleared out by the end of the week.'
    'Where does it all come from?' Mikali asked.
    'You might say off the back of a passing truck.' Jarrot laughed drunkenly. 'No questions, no pack drill as we used to say in the Legion. Just remember this, mon ami. Anything you ever need - anything. Just come to old Claude. I've got connections. I can get you anything, and that's a promise. Not only because you're an old bel-Abbes hand. If it hadn't been for you, the fellagha would probably have cut my balls off, amongst other things, that time.'
    He was very drunk by now and Mikali humoured him, slapping him on the shoulder. 'I'll remember that.'
    Jarrot pulled the cork with