Gospel by Sydney Bauer

Author:Sydney Bauer
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781741979671
Publisher: Pan Macmillan Australia
Published: 2013-07-05T04:00:00+00:00

40

CIA Director Richard Ryan obviously did not know what to make of him. He looked at the second member of their golfing threesome – retired politician and ex-US Vice President Larry Howell who, not known for his discretion, raised his eyebrows yet again as their new partner returned the iPod plugs to his ears before tackling the 9th hole of the Bethesda Congressional Country Club’s Blue Course.

‘Where’d you find this one, Dick?’ asked Howell loud enough to scare a flock of sparrows from a nearby oak tree. ‘The local Tower Records store? Or is he one of your CIA goons gone undercover as Jerry Lewis in The Caddy?’ Howell laughed raucously at his own joke, successfully emptying the remaining birds from said neighbouring tree.

‘I thought he was a friend of yours,’ said Ryan, his timbred southern accent slow and thick. ‘I saw his check-in card and it said he was from the Bureau of Public Debt – thought you must have known him through your contacts at the Department of Treasury.’

‘First up, Dick, the guys at Treasury aren’t contacts, they’re friends. The guys at Treasury are always your friends, get it? Which means you and me had better start smooching with this fruit cake if we know what’s good for us.’ More laughs – one last bird.

‘Apparently he was a friend of John Leung’s,’ said Ryan. ‘Put the family down as his reference. Linda Leung had signed the guest card.’

‘And you got all that in thirty seconds flat from scamming a look at his registration card?’

‘That, and a quick chat with Malcolm on the front desk.’

‘Hmmm,’ grinned Howell. ‘Don’t give up your day job, Dick.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re too damned good at it.’ And this time, Ryan laughed too.

Frank McKay fired off a cracker of a shot with his one wood, angling the ball high with a slight draw, sending it flying down the 607 yard par 5, avoiding the heavy foliage traps and sailing over the obstacle course of bunkers which bordered the fairway off the tee.

‘Jesus,’ said Howell, completely unaware that McKay, now removing his earphones, had heard their entire conversation. Until this morning Frank McKay had never even heard of an iPod, let alone known how to use one.

‘That was one hell of a shot, Frank. They teach you that at the Department of Treasury?’ he said, obviously fishing, with that laugh again. ‘Or you really one of Dick’s spooks been holed up on some brainwashing camp for budding golf pros?’

‘I prefer to think of myself as a civil servant with a passion for golf,’ smiled Frank, his honesty taken just as he wanted it – as a form of modest downplay.

‘Aren’t we all?’ gleaned Howell. ‘But just not as good at it as you, hey Frank?’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr Vice President.’ Frank knew the protocol, even ex-Vice Presidents got to keep the moniker.

‘No other way to take it, son. Just remember me when you’re talking to your buddies at the IRS – or rather forget me, if you know what I mean.

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