The King's Deception Read Online Free PDF

number three, the only one of the six who provided Henry with a legitimate son, Edward, who eventually became king, ruling six years, dying just before his sixteenth birthday.
    “It appears Henry’s remains were rummaged through,” he said. “The opening in Charles’ coffin was made two hundred years ago. He, and the other two, seem to have been of no interest.”
    In life, she knew, Henry VIII had been a tall man, over six feet, but toward the end of his life his body had swelled with fat. Here lay the mortal remains of a king who fought with France, Spain, and the Holy Roman Emperor, transforming England from an island at the edge of Europe into an empire-in-the-making. He defied popes and possessed the courage to found his own religion, which continued to thrive five hundred years later.
    Talk about audacity.
    She stood.
    “Serious things are happening, Kathleen.”
    He handed her one of his business cards. On the back was an address written in blue ink.
    “Go there,” he said.
    She noted the address. A familiar place. “Why can’t you tell me what this is about?”
    “Because none of this was my idea.” He handed back her SOCA badge and credentials, which had been confiscated three weeks ago. “Like I said, you were about to be dismissed.”
    She was perplexed. “So why am I here?”
    “They asked, specifically, for you.”

Four
    LONDON
    I AN KNEW EXACTLY WHERE HE WAS . H IS AUNT LIVED NEARBY and he’d many times wandered Little Venice, especially on weekend afternoons when the streets were filled with people. When he finally ran away, the posh villas and modern tower blocks had offered him his first education in life on his own. Tourists flocked to the area, drawn by the quaint neighborhoods, the blue iron bridges, and the many pubs and restaurants. Houseboats and water buses plowed the brown waters of the canal between here and the zoo—offering exactly the kind of distractions that helped with stealing. Right now, he needed a distraction to lose Norse and Devene, who would surely be after him once they were through dealing with Cotton Malone.
    Maybe his aunt’s flat would offer him a safe place to hide, but the thought of appearing on her doorstep turned his stomach. As much trouble as he was now apparently facing, the prospect of listening to that fat prat seemed worse. Besides, if whoever was after him knew enough to know that he was returning today, they surely would have learned about his aunt.
    So he continued running down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction from where she lived, toward an avenue fifty meters ahead.
    Gary stopped and said through heavy breaths, “We have to go back.”
    “Your dad said to go. Those are bad people. I know.”
    “How?”
    “They tried to kill me. Not those two buggers, but others.”
    “That’s why we need to go back.”
    “We will. But first we have to get farther away.”
    This American had no idea what it was like on London’s streets. You didn’t stay around and wait for trouble, and you certainly didn’t go find it.
    He spotted the red, white, and blue symbol for an Underground station, but since he did not have a travel card or money, and there was no time to steal anything, that escape route would do them little good. He actually liked the fact that Gary Malone seemed lost. The cockiness he’d seen in the Atlanta airport, when Gary tackled him during his own escape attempt, had vanished.
    This was his world.
    Where he knew the rules.
    So he led the way as they ran off.
    Ahead he spotted the backwater basin of Little Venice with its fleet of stumpy boats and array of trendy shops. Modern apartment buildings loomed to the left. Traffic encircling the brown-gray pool was moderate, given it was approaching 7:00 PM on a Friday. Most of the stores bordering the street were still open. Several owners were tending moored boats, rinsing off the sides and shining the lacquered exteriors. One was singing as he worked. Strings of lights decorated the