The Destroyer - 95 - The Destroyer 095 - High Priestess by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
ISBN: 9780373632107
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 1994-03-31T23:00:00+00:00

"I said," Squirrelly said, her voice going steely, "I just escaped prison. I didn't escape the country. Will you listen for once? I need a big splashy rescue. Tell them we're going to liberate Tibet from the evil Chinese."

"I thought they liked you, Squirl.''

"We're having creative differences, okay?"

"Sooo . . . you need help? My big sister who has all the answers?"

"Yes, Warren, I need help. Liberating Tibet is no two-week shoot. You should see the size of this place. And the mountains. It's positively crawling with mountains."

The drawl at the other end of the line grew oily and ingratiating. "If I make these calls, what're you gonna do for me?"

"Okay. Okay. I can see where this is going, Warren. You wanna be low lama? You got it. You wanna be Tibetan ambassador to Tahiti? I can arrange that."

"What do the Tibetan girls look like?"

"Short, round and not your type."

"Okay, then I want you."

"Cut it out, Warren."

"You, or I hang up."

"You wouldn't do that to your own sister."

"I've run out of erotic experiences. It's you or I slash my wrists."

"Warren, be my guest. Slash your wrists. Enjoy." And Squirrelly slammed the phone down. "I hope you come back as a sexless worm in your next incarnation, Warren!" she added for good measure.

When she turned, the others were staring at her with round, dubious eyes.

"Don't look at me like that!" she fumed. "You can't pick your relatives, you know."

Kula beamed. "Such wisdom from one who has been Bunji Lama for only three days. Truly the Chinese have no chance against us."

"And we will have no chance if we do not leave this place before alarms are raised," warned Chiun in a stern tone. "Come."

On the way out Squirrelly grabbed her Oscar off the desk.

Chapter 29

The word was flashed from Lhasa to Beijing by military radio: "The Bunji Lama has escaped."

It reached the ears of the premier of China by coded telegram.

In his office in the Great Hall of the People, where the air hung thick and stale with tobacco smoke, the premier smoked furiously as he read the telegram slowly. And then again. Once it had been committed to memory, he used the burning end of his cigarette to set the sensitive telegram alight.

He placed it in the porcelain ashtray in one corner of his desk and watched the edges brown and darken to black as the leaping orange flames danced and consumed the sheet. When it was a delicate ball of unreadable paper, he crushed it to ashes with tobacco-stained fingers so callused they felt none of the dissipating heat.

Only then did he call the minister of state security.

The line rang and rang. Finally an operator came on to report that the line was not currently in working order.

"By whose order?" asked the premier in a hoarse voice.

The operator obviously recognized the voice of the highest authority in the People's Republic of China.

His voice squeaked as he replied, "By order of the minister of state security."

"Get me the minister of public security.

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