The Nameless Dead Read Online Free PDF

career.
    Still, I was pretty good at scheming myself. If that was the way he wanted to play the game, I would be happy to take him on.
     
    The killer called Abaddon—according to the Book of Revelation, ‘the angel of the bottomless pit’—was drinking a latte in a café near Faneuil Hall, central Boston. It was five in the afternoon and the winter gloom was interspersed with Christmas lights and the glare from shops whose owners anxiously awaited potential customers. The newspapers were full of stories about unemployment, Chapter Eleven filings and bankers’ bonuses. The assassin’s funds were mostly in offshore accounts, so the state of the economy was of minimal interest.
    Coverage of the two murders so far had been disappointing. The authorities were keeping quiet about the Nazi angle and only a couple of writers, both online bloggers, had made much of the fact that the victims were both supporters of liberal causes. Laurie Simpson, the Greenwich Village resident, had been acclaimedas ‘a tireless worker for human rights and social justice’ by one of the geeks, while the other had been full of compliments for the Detroit radio host Sterling Anson, saying that he’d brought numerous hate groups and racist factions to the attention of the authorities.
    The other element missing from reports were the details of how the victims had been dispatched and disfigured. Abaddon wasn’t surprised by that, though the people picking up the tab were apparently unhappy. Earlier that day there had been a message from the assassin’s broker on the secure bulletin board they used. Double the money was on offer if the next victim was displayed in a public place. Abaddon had agreed, but needed an extra couple of days to come up with a plan.
    There were some favorable aspects about the target. Rhoda Rabinovich was even smaller than Sterling Anson. According to her medical records, she weighed only ninety-four pounds and was less than five feet two inches in height. On the other hand, she worked for a Massachusetts state senator, a Democrat with heavy support from the Jewish community, and she was hardly ever on her own, despite the fact she was single and lived alone. However, the briefing had given some help and Abaddon had been careful to research the locations and work up a convincing appearance.
    The target had an office in a block near City Hall and she was always there in the early evenings on weekdays. Abaddon, unconcerned about witnesses because of the disguise, headed over there without delay. The black leather briefcase wasn’t just a stage prop. Inside it were a combat knife, rope and other equipment. Apart fromthe building’s security team, there was no one guarding Ms. Rabinovich. The other office staff would have left by now and all the assassin had to worry about was voters—they would be more interested in their Christmas shopping, even if they spent less than usual, than in bellyaching to the senatorial aide. Nodding at the uniformed man in the entrance hall, Abaddon took the elevator to the fifth floor, two below the target’s office. After checking the vicinity—a young woman carrying files hurried past without even raising her eyes—the assassin went up the stairs and looked through the glass in the fire door on the seventh floor. No one passed in the corridor beyond.
    Abaddon made it to Rhoda Rabinovich’s office without encountering anyone. The outer door was unlocked and the receptionist’s desk was tidy. The assassin went up to the inner door and listened intently. There were no sounds at all from within. Patting the Glock 17 semiautomatic pistol in the belt holding up gray suit pants, Abaddon knocked and entered.
    A woman in a white blouse sat behind a large desk, head resting on her crossed arms.
    Abaddon coughed quietly when Rhoda Rabinovich didn’t move. That had no effect.
    ‘Excuse me?’ the killer tried. ‘Ms. Rabinovich?’
    This time, the woman raised her head, but it was a slow process