Death Dives Deep by Michael Avallone

Author:Michael Avallone [Avallone, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Story Merchant Books
Published: 2014-07-07T22:00:00+00:00

F. B. I.–CAUGHT A SPY

AGENT Raleigh wasn't kidding about the limousine but his red carpet was slightly worn around the edges. It took him and his partner Hopton about twenty minutes to hustle me into a dark touring car and whisk me through the snowy Manhattan streets to the Federal Bureau of Investigation office on East Sixty-ninth Street. I'd never been there before. Under the circumstances, I could have skipped this trip, too. I was carrying a stick of dynamite in my pocket. A dead F.B.I. agent's wallet. I got a headache thinking about if the kill had already been phoned in.

In the old days, in a spot like this was sizing up to be, I would have tried to evade being brought in. Maybe even by putting up a fight. But I was older now and maybe smarter. Or less agile than in the old days. Trying to dodge out of Raleigh and Hopton's arrest—they couldn't kid me, for that's all it could be—would have meant nothing but trouble. And a possible bullet in the back.

I was still too young to die. And where could I have gone? I had no leads, Melissa Mercer was out of town, Michael Monks couldn't protect me from an F.B.I. interrogation and there wasn't anybody I could tell: Honest, guys. I'm a special deluxe agent working for the President. In fact, only he knew about it.

A sudden heart attack. What lousy luck—for the Chief and for me. And Harry Healey, Arvis his daughter and Serena Savage his mistress were getting farther and farther away, taking with them the questionable mystery of the manuscript and all those water people. Dandy Jaxon and Jesus Killy were both dead, and if Dandy had been Walter Adams, truly, I was up the governmental creek without any kind of paddle at all.

Raleigh's red carpet began to show the frayed edges as soon as he parked the car off Columbus Avenue. The still-falling snow would have hidden the carpet anyway. But suddenly he and Hopton clamped both my arms at my side and strong-armed me into a wide, cold-looking building whose ground floor windows were softly, subtly lit. The air was freezing now and steam poured from our mouths and noses. I was getting a little numbed by my predicament so I didn't put up much of an argument. I would simply have to wait to see what they threw at me. I expected the good book in about sixty-seven languages.

They didn't waste too much time or do much talking. I found myself planted in a nice square office room with a lot of filing cabinets, the familiar American flag on the left wall and a portrait of the Chief on the right one. And Raleigh and Hopton disappeared into the woodwork and I was left alone for a few minutes to think up a good story. At least, they had left me my cigarettes and all my personals. So I lit up a Camel and tried to think.

It was no good.

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