The British Lion: A Novel by Tony Schumacher

Author:Tony Schumacher [Schumacher, Tony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Historical, Suspense, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Alternate History, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 0062394592
Amazon: B00T3DNJR6
Barnesnoble: B00T3DNJR6
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2015-10-27T05:00:00+00:00

“WHO IS SPEAKING, please?”

“Just connect me to Allen Dulles.”

“May I ask what the call is in connection with, and who is speaking?”

King looked out the window of the call box, and then back at pile of damp phone books on the shelf in front of him.

He’d been calling Dulles’s private numbers for over a year, and not once had someone ever asked him what the call was in connection with. King either spoke directly to Dulles or was put through to his private flat if he wasn’t in his office.

Something was wrong.

“Who is this?” King asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Finch, embassy security. Who am I speaking to, and what is your call in connection with?”

Frank King slammed the phone receiver down, then picked it up and then slammed it down again. He rested his forehead in his hands and then drew them slowly down his face as if scraping thick paint from his skin.

Embassy security asking questions at Allen Dulles’s apartment meant Allen Dulles was answering questions somewhere else.

Frank King was alone.

He turned ninety degrees and rested his back against the windows of the phone box, his hands now hanging by their fingertips from his jaw as the cold glass pressed against the crown of his head.

He was finished.

He sighed, dropped his hands, and shook his head.

No.

He was never finished.

He took a deep breath, filled his lungs, held it, then took some more change for the phone out of his pocket.

He listened for the tone and then dialed the guard room number at the embassy. It rang once. He breathed out, steadied himself, breathed in, and smiled.

“Guard room.”

King recognized the voice as belonging to an old salt of a marine sergeant named Bob Fisher.

“Fisher? It’s Frank King, I’m trying to get hold of Allen Dulles but I can’t get an answer on his line. Do you know where he is?” King kept on smiling, letting his expression lighten his voice.

There was a pause.

“People are looking for you, sir.”

“Yeah . . . I know that, I need to speak to Dulles to sort things out.”

“Umm, I haven’t seen or heard of him today, sir.”

“You don’t sound too certain there, Bob.”

“People have left messages for you, sir. Pretty urgent messages.”

The smile slipped a little on King’s face. “What people?”

“Umm, pretty much everyone, sir, from the ambassador’s office down.”

“What about?”

“I don’t know, sir. I was told to let you know about the messages and that’s all.”

“Hey, come on, Bob. Nothing happens in that place without you knowing what’s going on.” King had made a career on developing relationships, all the way down and all the way up the chain of command. He was everyone’s pal, everyone’s buddy in the bar, and he hoped all those drinks he’d bought would start paying off.

They did.

Fisher lowered his voice. “It’s a rumor sir, just a rumor, but I heard Mr. Dulles is under house arrest.”

“What?” The smile was now most definitely gone.

“It’s just what I heard; they took a squad over there an hour ago.

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