Monumental Terror by R.J. Carter

Author:R.J. Carter [Warren Murphy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Chiun (Fictitious character) --Fiction., Williams, Remo (Fictitious character) --Fiction.
ISBN: 9781035999965
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

Chapter Twelve

Simon Gaylord was finishing installing a new coil on the walk-in fridge when he heard the squeak of hydraulics coming from the parking lot. Wiping his hands, he stepped out of the kitchen area to the sight of three tour buses opening their doors, disgorging dozens of passengers, who gathered by the side of the buses as they waited to get their bags.

“Looks like you’re going to have a full house tonight,” he quipped to the lady managing the desk.

She tapped a few keys on her computer and shrugged. “We still have a lot of rooms left,” she said. “We’ve been busier.”

Outside, the drivers were opening the luggage compartments. Simon saw one man, who was balding — yet had enough hair in the back to be knotted into a bun — push his way through the throng toward the front, grabbing a backpack and a duffel and then forcing his way back out.

“Some people got no patience,” Simon clucked. “Gotta be the rudest duck in the whole bird pond.”

“The what now?” the desk manager asked absently, her focus on the soon-to-be-entering guests. But before Simon could answer, the passengers all began elbowing through the automatic sliding doors, jockeying for position to get their room keys and a shower.

Everyone except for the rude fellow with the man-bun. He was nowhere to be seen, having set off on foot around the corner and down the street.

Simon Gaylord shrugged, helped himself to a seven-dollar slice of cheesecake and a three-dollar cola from the guest pantry, and enjoyed the rest of his “long lunch,” while the desk manager did her best to cope with the deluge of check-ins.

· · ·

Craig Lafferty slipped his arms through his backpack and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. His reservation could wait; he was in no hurry to spend any more time jostling with the mass of pretenders and fakers who were only there to make a quick buck.

Marissa Meyer deserved better than that, and his mission was to see that she got it.

He wanted to reconnoiter the site in advance, in order to assess the best approach. He already had done the preliminary math, calculating the forces and trajectories involved.

Lafferty was an Ammunition Specialist, trained by the U.S. Army. Since entering civilian life, he had grown a patchy beard and a paunch, and somehow had acquired two cats, which were now being looked after by his sister. He could not do twenty pushups these days, or hike twenty miles, but his primary skills were all mental, and as sharp as ever.

The explosives were going to do most the heavy work, anyway.

The twelve-block walk left him panting, and he sat down at a bench to catch his breath. The Moonstags across the street looked tempting. He was craving a soy latte. Maybe on the way back, he promised himself.

Around the corner, he saw the gate, a brown, carved archway inscribed with verse:

On Fame’s Eternal Camping Ground

Their Silent Tents are Spread

And Glory Guards with Solemn Round

The Bivouac of the Dead

Craig Lafferty stroked his whiskers and adjusted his square-rimmed glasses.

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