Kill the Dragon by Marc Olden

Author:Marc Olden [Olden, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784087500
Publisher: Head of Zeus Ltd
Published: 2012-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

11

JOHN BOLT CUPPED THE white mug of steaming coffee in both hands, blowing on it, his red-rimmed eyes staring down at the green carpet in Sam Rand’s all-green office. Behind Rand’s back, other agents called the office Sherwood Forest. Something nudged Bolt’s left elbow. Kramer. He sat beside Bolt on the leather couch, both of them wrapped in Army blankets over their suits. New York office buildings were unheated at night.

Nodding at the pint bottle of cheap whiskey in Kramer’s hand, Bolt took it, pouring some into his hot coffee. Anything to kill the rotten coffee taste and thaw him out. He was about to hand it back when he stopped, looked at the label, closed his eyes, and brought the bottle to his lips. He swallowed twice.

Wincing at the potent taste, he handed it back. “Christ! Find the horse who pissed in this bottle and shoot him.”

Kramer looked at the label. “Harlem special. Now you know what makes the brothers so hostile. It’s three o’clock in the morning, and whatever you drink at that time, you got comin’. Good for what ails you.” The black agent had paid fifteen dollars in an after-hours joint for that pint of bad whiskey.

“That shit ails me,” said Bolt, pointing at the bottle. “That and other things.”

Kramer nodded. Other things. “You talk to Masetta’s wife?”

“Yeah. She’s taking it well. She said a concussion won’t hurt him. Taking the kids up there tomorrow to see him.”

“When he’s comin back?”

“Doctor said tests and X rays and shit will run another two days. They’re checking for skull fractures, brain damage, vision, and internal bleeding. He’s alive. That makes it for me.”

Kramer swallowed some booze-filled coffee. “Best believe it. Don’t mind telling you, J.B., when those grenades went boom back there, it like to scared me white, which ain’t easy. Man, the noise—wow!”

Bolt sipped at the steaming brew, grateful for the liquor. He felt like he was wrapped in ice. Almost two hours in Sam Rand’s office, and he still had the chills. “You weren’t the only one. Surprised the shit out of me. I was crawling around in that snow like a Saturday-night drunk. Too bad about Blessing.”

Kramer nodded. Any lawman’s murder was bad news. It gave other people ideas. Kill one guy wearing a badge and someone was sure to try to kill a few more. Cop killing was one of the most imitated crimes around. “Shotgun. Dude didn’t have a prayer.”

“Didn’t have a head,” said Bolt. “Head was six feet from the body. Autopsy report won’t be final, but it’s a good guess he got careless with Peter Joe.”

“Gonna be hard to prove. Peter Joe will have an alibi that won’t quit.”

“Yeah, I know. From what we know about Gabriel’s kids, Peter Joe’s the one who would use grenades. He’s the one Kam Lo would stick close to. So I got it figured he’s the one who blew away Blessing.”

“Oooooweee. Keep that fucker away from me, Jim.”

The door opened and Sam Rand came into the room, holding several typewritten pages.

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