3_The Pelican Brief by John Grisham

Author:John Grisham
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-09-27T23:00:00+00:00

"Okay. I've thought about it. It's impossible." Coal was amused by this thought, and his amusement irritated Barr. The limo eased into downtown.

"Tap his apartment," Coal instructed.I want a report twice a day on all his calls." The limo stopped, and Barr climbed out.

BREAKFAST at Dupont Circle. It was quite chilly, but at least the addicts and transvestites were still unconscious somewhere in their sick little worlds. A few winos lay about like driftwood. But the sun was up and he felt safe, and anyway he was still an FBI agent with a shoulder harness and a piece under his arm. Who was he to fear? He hadn't used it in fifteen years, and he seldom left the office, but he'd love to yank it out and blast away.

His name was Trope, a very special assistant to Mr. Voyles. He was so special that no one except he and Mr. Voyles knew about these secret little chats with Booker from Langley. He sat on a circular bench with his back to New Hampshire, and unpacked a store-bought breakfast of banana and muffin. He checked his watch. Booker was never late. Trope always arrived first, then Booker five minutes later, and they always talked quickly and Trope left first, then Booker. They were both office boys now, far into their twilights but very close to their bosses, who from time to time grew weary of trying to figure out what the hell the other was doing, or perhaps just needed to know something quick.

His real name was Trope, and he wondered if Booker was a real name. Probably not. Booker was from Langley, and they were so paranoid even the pencil pushers probably had fakes.

He took an inch off the banana. Hell, the secretaries over there probably had three or four names.

Booker strolled near the fountain with a tall white cup of coffee. He glanced around, then sat down next to his friend. Voyles wanted this meeting, so Trope would speak first.

"We lost a man in New Orleans," he said.

Booker cuddled the hot cup and sipped. "He got himself killed."

"Yeah, but he's still dead. Were you there?"

"Yes, but we didn't know he was there. We were close, but watching others. What was he doing?"

Trope unwrapped the cold muffin. "We don't know. Went down for the funeral, tried to find the girl, found someone else, and here we are." He took a long bite and the banana was finished. Now to the muffin.It was a clean job, wasn't it?"

Booker shrugged. What did the FBI know about killing people? "It was okay. Pretty weak effort at suicide, from what we hear." He sipped the hot coffee.

"Where's the girl?" Trope asked.

"We lost her at O'Hare. Maybe she's in Manhattan, but we're not certain. We're looking."

"And they're looking." Trope sipped cold coffee.

"I'm sure they are."

They watched a wino stagger from his bench and fall. His head hit first with a thud, but he probably felt nothing. He rolled over and his forehead was bleeding.

Booker checked his watch.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.