The Thirteenth Skull Read Online Free PDF

posted in the hall?
    I don’t know how much time passed—they took my watch and there wasn’t a clock in the room—when I heard the door lock snap open.
    A man stepped into the room. He wasn’t wearing a doctor’s white lab coat. He was wearing a tailored suit. The suit was blue. The tie was red. The hair was long and dark and the eyes even darker. He was carrying a black cane with a gold handle, though he didn’t walk with any limp that I could see.
    I sat up and pulled the covers to my chin. You don’t really appreciate the meaning of the world “vulnerable” until you’re trapped in a room with a stranger and all you’re wearing is a flimsy hospital gown.
    He pulled the chair closer to the bed, a small, ironic smile playing on his full lips. They looked almost too fat for his thin face. He placed the cane’s tip between his immaculately shined black shoes and rested both hands on the gold head.
    Then he smiled. He had a great smile. The only person I knew who had a better one was Abigail Smith.
    â€œAlfred Kropp, at last we meet.”
    He wasn’t American. I’m no good with accents, but it sounded Spanish.
    â€œWho are you?” I asked.
    â€œI am your attending physician, Dr. R. U. Nutts. That is a joke, of course, but I note you are not laughing. You may call me Nueve.”
    â€œNoy-vey?”
    â€œ Sí . Nueve.”
    I said, “What do you want, Mr. Nueve?” I glanced toward the closed door. I might be able to get to it before he could stop me, bang on it, howl my lungs out, and hope the big orderly bulldog man opened it—but this Nueve got past him somehow, so there were no guarantees he would rush in to save me.
    â€œPlease, I shall call you Alfred and you shall call me Nueve. Just Nueve, por favor .”
    â€œJust Nueve,” I echoed. He was resting his chin on his hands, sort of balancing his finely shaped head on the top of the black cane. “I got a D in Spanish last year, but I’m pretty sure nueve means nine. ”
    He smiled, this time without showing his beautiful teeth.
    â€œYou’re the Company’s new Operative Nine, aren’t you?” I asked. “The Superseding Protocol Agent, the one above all the rules.”
    â€œI am here on behalf of Director Smith,” Nueve said. “She sends her apologies that she cannot personally answer your summons. She is en route to headquarters.”
    â€œShe’s out of the country?”
    He nodded.
    â€œBut you’re not. Why?”
    He smiled.
    â€œMaybe you’re here to check on a special delivery,” I said.
    He laughed softly. “Do you really think the Company had anything to do with that?”
    â€œActually, I do.”
    â€œThe work of rank amateurs. Complicated, risky, over-the-top theatrics. If you had been targeted by us, believe me, you would not now be enjoying these fine accommodations. You would be dead.”
    â€œI have the Seal,” I said. “You’re the only people who know I have it. You want it. Who else would come after me for it?”
    â€œWhy do you presume the Seal is their goal? Perhaps it is simpler than that—or more complex.”
    â€œAll I know is twenty minutes after I told you people I was keeping the Seal some guy showed up and wasted my friend, stabbed me, and blew himself up.”
    He shrugged.
    â€œSo you’re saying OIPEP had nothing to do with this?” I asked.
    â€œI am here on the direction of Director Smith, who said you wanted to speak to us.”
    â€œAnd you, OIPEP’s SPA, head honcho in the black ops department, just happened to be in town on the same day an assassin shows up to kill me.”
    â€œCall it serendipity.”
    â€œIf you kill me, you’ll never get your hands on it.”
    â€œI have no intention of killing you, Alfred. You are far too valuable to us alive. Perhaps as a gesture of goodwill, the Company could bring its