The Devastators Read Online Free PDF

never seen London, you know.”
    She was a funny mixture of professional ruthlessness and girlish curiosity. I didn’t like to disappoint her, and I certainly didn’t want her to think I was pulling rank and seniority on her, but I said, “I’d rather you wouldn’t. The situation could go critical on us any time. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay right here.”
    Her blue eyes looked very cold for a moment. “And if I do mind?”
    “Then go the hell out and rubberneck, but you’d better wrap up good. That’s not much dress you’ve got on and it looks like rain.”
    “Aren’t you being a little stuffy? I didn’t come on this job to be kept on ice.”
    “Of course you did,” I said. “You’re my delicate darling, and I wouldn’t dream of letting you go out there and get your pretty little feet wet. On a different level, I’m supposed to take real good care of you, so you’ll be in perfect condition when the time comes for you to slit a man’s throat.”
    She sighed. “All right. You win again. I’ll stay, damn you. Under protest, but I’ll stay.”
    “Thanks.”
    As I reached for the door again, she said quickly, “Matt, wait.”
    I looked back. She’d swung her legs off the bed. She paused to stick her feet into her shoes, not so much for protection, I gathered—it was a deep, soft rug—as for the extra two or three inches the high heels gave her. She came over and deliberately put her arms around my neck and rose on tiptoe to kiss me on the mouth.
    “There,” she said. “You can be wiping off the lipstick, husband-like, as you go down the hall.”
    “Sure.”
    There was a little pause. I was tempted to add something mushy to the effect that she was a pretty nice kid, after all, and working with her wasn’t going to be quite the ordeal I’d expected. While I struggled with the impulse, the telephone rang, which was just as well. I mean, this buddy-buddy stuff may be all right in the armed forces, but in our line of work you’re much better off hating your partner’s guts. Then you won’t feel so bad if he breaks a leg and you have to shoot him—and if you think that’s just a figure of speech, Buster, I envy you the happy TV world you live in.
    Winnie had gone over to pick up the phone. “Hello,” she said. Her voice was suddenly thin and sweet and rather timid. “Yes, this is… this is Mrs. Helm. Yes, he’s right here. Yes, of course. Just a moment.”
    She held out the phone with a little shrug to indicate that she had no idea who was calling. I took it and said, “Helm here.”
    A very British voice said, “Crowe-Barham. I assumed it wasn’t undiplomatic to telephone you, old chap, since you were registered under your own name.” He waited for me to say something. When I didn’t, he went on: “If your memory falters, the given names are Leslie Alastair, and the joint operation was called Adder. Why do they have this awful compulsion to name them after reptiles, I wonder. You will recall that it was rather a sticky affair. I still owe you a drink, maybe a trifle more, depending on the going rate for slightly shopworn baronets, so I asked Colonel Stark, my current superior—I don’t think you know him—for permission to get in touch with you. Are you in our city on business, and if so can we be of assistance? Her Majesty’s troops are at your service.”
    “No business,” I said, remembering my instructions. I wasn’t supposed to break cover for anybody if I could help it, certainly not an unidentified voice on the phone. The fact that I was fairly sure I recognized the voice made no real difference. The accent is easy to imitate, and there are a lot of good mimics around. I went on: “I’m on my honeymoon,
amigo
, and I don’t need any help from the troops, thanks.”
    “Congratulations, old fellow. I’m sure from her voice that the lady is perfectly charming.” He hesitated, and went on with a diffident stubbornness: “You’re quite certain there’s