To Kill A Devil: A Mason Collins Crime Thriller 4 by John A. Connell

Author:John A. Connell [Connell, John A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nailhead Publishing
Published: 2020-01-31T00:00:00+00:00

The telephone rang in Mason’s hotel room. Mason answered it, and the front desk informed him his car was waiting downstairs. He hung up and tugged on his shirt collar and bow tie. The tuxedo shirt the CIC had furnished was a half size too small, making the veins in his neck pulse against the tight collar and emphasizing just how fast his heart was beating. It was showtime, and a lot was riding on getting everything right at the fundraiser, but that wasn’t the cause of his pounding heart. Laura was his main concern; she was going to expose herself to considerable danger by showing up at the event.

He put on his overcoat and stepped into the hallway. Kraus must have received the same call, because he, too, exited his room.

“You look very sharp in that tuxedo, Monsieur Bossart.”

Kraus bowed. “The ladies will swoon at the sight of us, Mr. Anderson.”

Mason glanced down the hallway expecting to see Laura, then he remembered he had no idea which room Forester had reserved for her.

Mason and Kraus went down to the lobby and scanned the space. Laura had her back to Mason, but he could recognize her figure anywhere. Three men in army uniforms had her cornered. She talked to them in English with a light French accent, something that made her even more attractive—if such a thing were possible.

Mason didn’t know her cover name, so he stayed where he was. She must have sensed his presence, because she glanced back and saw him. She excused herself and came toward Mason and Kraus.

Flushed with blood, Mason’s torso warmed at the sight of her. She wore a wig matching her dark brown hair, topped by a green sequined tiara. The wig draped across her shoulders and covered the burns on her neck. Her silk dress was a deep emerald green and was topped with a bolero jacket with multicolored rhinestones. She was stunning.

Mason became aware of Kraus elbowing him and asking out of the side of his mouth, “Who is she?”

Laura came up and kissed Mason on both cheeks—French style. “Bon soir, Monsieur Anderson. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Mason came to his senses. “Yes, this is Monsieur Bossart.”

Kraus, as Mr. Bossart, bowed, and they exchanged pleasantries in French—or at least Mason assumed they were pleasantries. Mason remembered she spoke French and was engaged to a French soldier before the Germans invaded France.

“Shall we?” Mason asked as he gestured toward the door.

As the three companions exited the hotel, Kraus asked Laura in English, “So, what brings you to Vienna?”

“Didn’t Mr. Anderson tell you? I’m his girl du jour.”

A driver in a chauffeur’s uniform opened the back door of a black Cadillac limousine.

“This is for us?” Mason asked the driver.

As Laura walked past Mason, she said, “Don’t act so surprised. You’re supposed to be a rich guy.”

Kraus still stood on the sidewalk and had a puzzled look on his face.

“I’ll explain in the car,” Mason said and waved for him to get in.

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