The Admiral's Mark (Short Story) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Malone. He was close to Scotty,” Dubois told them.
    “Are you a secret agent, too?” Alain asked.
    He threw Dubois a curious look.
    “Scotty told them he be an agent for the Americans. Worked for the Billet.”
    He decided not to burst anyone’s bubble. “I think it’s called the Magellan Billet.”
    “That’s what Scotty say. Very secret thing.”
    “Scotty say anything else?”
    Dubois shook his head. “Only that he be here on a mission. He need help. I give it, like I do with you.”
    The children ran back to their friends. A woman appeared in the shanty’s door. She was thin, long-haired, with bright eyes and a fresh face.
    “This be Elise. My wife.”
    Malone shook the woman’s hand, and she threw him a warm smile.
    “You were Scotty’s relative?” she asked.
    He nodded. “He was married to my wife’s sister.”
    “We liked him a lot. He was a good man.”
    Her English was cleaner than Dubois’ and carried no accent, each syllable perfectly pronounced.
    “Elise teaches school,” her husband said with pride in his voice. “She be real good at that.”
    The auction would begin in three hours. In the meantime he’d decided to talk with Stephanie Nelle. Though this trip hadn’t started off as Magellan Billet business, things had changed. His boss had to know about the Israelis.
    “I need to make a call,” he said. “I’ll step out over there where I can talk in private.”
    “Take your time,” Dubois said. “Elise make the food. We eat.”
    He nodded at the hospitality and found the phone in his pocket. It was state-of-the-art, Magellan Billet issue, satellite-rated. The smallest unit on the market, produced solely for U.S. intelligence. But he wondered how long it would be before everyone’s phone was similarly capable.
    Stephanie was in her office and answered the call.
    “I thought you were on vacation,” she said.
    “So did I.”
    He told her what had happened, omitting nothing.
    “Schwartz is right,” she said. “Zachariah Simon is a fanatic who just recently crept onto our radar. We’re not sure what he’s after, but we passed what we had along to the Israelis and they became awfully interested.”
    He knew his boss. “So you ran a full check?”
    “Of course. Simon is wealthy, reclusive, a religious zealot. But he keeps his fingerprints off everything. He also openly stays out of politics and never talks to the press.”
    “In other words he’s careful.”
    “Too much so, in my opinion.”
    “What’s he doing in Haiti?”
    “An excellent question. I’m sorry about what happened to your brother-in-law, but he was in way over his head.”
    “That much is obvious. What isn’t is why the Mossad wants us out of the way.”
    “I’d like to know what they’re up to.”
    He’d thought she might, and he had a way to find out. “I can do that, but I’ll need some help from your end. I want to go to the auction and buy that book. Simon wants it. My guess is the Israelis are interested, too. If nothing else, it’s our ante into the game.”
    “I agree. Do it. I’ll set up a line of credit. But, Cotton, keep the price reasonable. Okay?”
    “Don’t I always?”

    He walked back toward the house and could hear people all around him, some within their own dwellings, others out in the bright afternoon. Inside, he discovered that Elise Dubois was making rice and beans, along with a soup of potatoes, tomatoes, and meat, all simmering on a small electric stove. The house contained four rooms, sparsely furnished, everything clean and orderly.
    He sat at the table with Dubois and the two children.
    “What do you do?” his host asked.
    He decided again not to burst Scott’s bubble. “I work with the same people Scott does.”
    “You’re a secret agent?” Violine said, the young girl’s face alight with anticipation.
    “Not like Scotty. He was higher up than me. But I do work for the same people.”
    “Scotty taught us things,” Alain said. “Secret-agent