The Shadow Project Read Online Free PDF Page B

happened. It was like one of those 3-D movies where you had to wear the special glasses. When they threw the bucket of water over you, you knew it wasn’t real, but you ducked anyway.
    Opal had two goals. The first, and by far the most important, was to try to identify this place as a terrorist camp. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake. If she did, the Allies would bomb innocent civilians. It had happened before, more than once. But never, thank God, because of one of her reports. She didn’t want this to be the first.
    The second goal, far less easy, was to find out whether the Skull was here. Confirmation of that would make her a legend.
    There was a standard procedure for a mission like this, but she wasn’t keen to apply it. It involved crisscrossing the area under investigation in a tight grid pattern, moving fast without reference to structures, people or obstacles, and all the while observing, taking note of clues. All very logical, except that Opal loathed the bewildering experience of passing through walls almost as much as she loathed the experience of passing throughpeople. Gridding meant passing through both. All the same, it looked as if she might—
    Opal stopped dead. Someone had emerged from the heavily guarded compound where the helicopter was being loaded. For a moment she simply stared at him, openmouthed, not able to believe her eyes. But there was no doubt at all. She was standing less than a hundred yards away from the tall, hairless figure of the Skull.

11
Sir Roland, the Shadow Project
    â€œY ou did what ?” Sir Roland exploded.
    Carradine gave one of his small, crooked smiles. “Take it easy, Roland—it was the best thing, in my judgment.”
    Roland. Not sir, or even Sir Roland. You could always tell Carradine served a different master. It wasn’t that Roland really cared about titles. But, dammit, Carradine was younger than he was, so a little respect would not have gone amiss. “Your judgment was that letting him escape was the best thing to do?”
    Carradine nodded. “That was my call.”
    â€œYou didn’t think to consult me?”
    â€œDidn’t want to trouble you.”
    â€œI’m head of the Project,” Roland snapped.
    â€œAnd I’m head of security,” Carradine shot back, as if that clinched the argument.
    Because he was still irritated (read furious ), Rolandsaid, “In that case, Gary, I think you’d better explain, as head of security , how anyone could imagine that letting the boy go was the best thing to do.”
    They were in Carradine’s office with its uncomfortable chairs and high-tech equipment. Carradine placed considerable reliance on computers and associated gadgets. Roland hated the bloody things.
    Carradine, who had parked one buttock on the corner of his desk, glanced briefly at an open laptop before he said, “Well, for one thing, our questioning got nowhere.” By which he meant George Hanover’s questioning: there was a bit of an edge between Carradine and Hanover, although neither let it interfere with work.
    â€œIt got us his name and address,” Roland said coldly. “Enough to run a check, I would have thought.”
    â€œBoth phony, I’m afraid.”
    Roland stared. “What?”
    â€œLester Thomas isn’t his name, and he doesn’t live at Rigby Villas.”
    Roland drew up one of the hideous modern chairs and sat down. He looked at Carradine. “How do you know?”
    â€œAs you say, what he gave us was enough to run a check. So I had the Department send some men around.”
    Roland found himself feeling even more aggrieved.“MI6? You ordered MI6 to send some men around?” Carradine was CIA. They thought they ruled the world.
    â€œRequested,” Carradine corrected him.
    Roland made a conscious effort to reel in his temper. CIA or not, Carradine had considerable experience, so presumably he did know what he was