Bette by Lyn Cote

Author:Lyn Cote [COTE, LYN]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780446509916
Publisher: FaithWords
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

At Times Square, Ted in a discreet gray suit and hat hung back in the holiday weekend crowd, the perfect cover for his tailing job. He glanced at his watch, keeping in mind that sometime this afternoon he wanted to call Bette again. The November breeze was anything but gentle. His ears were nearly ice. Ahead, he tracked his two subjects: one short and rotund and wearing thick-lensed eyeglasses; the other tall, erect, and dark-haired with a slashing scar on one cheek. The two started across the intersection against the light, ignoring the surging traffic. Ted hurried so he wouldn’t lose them.

It all happened too fast to do anything but shout. The tall suspect bolted ahead as though unaware of the traffic. Suddenly realizing his peril, he jumped to avoid a car racing toward him. This leap put him in the path of a cab from the other direction. A screech of brakes. A sickening thud. Startled screams. The tall man with the scarred cheek lay, crumpled and twisted, in the middle of the street. A traffic cop’s whistle pierced the hubbub. A police car jammed to a halt, its red light flashing. Ted stood as stunned as the other witnesses.

Then the downed man’s companion grabbed up his fallen comrade’s brown briefcase and plunged into the crowd. “Hey!” someone yelled. “Hey, he’s stealing the guy’s bag!” But it appeared that everyone was too busy shouting and pushing to react.

“It’s a Jew plot!” the short man shouted back, confusing the bystanders. He melted into the gathering crush of the gawkers before anyone could get a firm grip on him.

Ted still pushed his way through the suffocating crowd. But the excitement drew onlookers like free candy. Ted struggled on, shoving between tightly packed bodies, but the short man had vanished from Ted’s line of sight. So Ted turned back to the accident victim. The first Nazi wouldn’t be running very far away.

Pushing to the front, a police detective flashed his badge and began questioning the cabbie who had hit the tall man.

“A guy with him stole his briefcase,” the cabbie said, shaking his head and wringing his hands.

“Yes,” Ted added, able to edge his way forward, “and he had a German accent.”

“Yeah,” the cabbie went on, “he shouted something about Jews. I didn’t catch it.”

“A German accent?” The New York detective looked concerned.

An ambulance clanged in the distance. The detective near the injured man started waving his arms and shouting. More police whistles. The ambulance snaked through the crowd of onlookers to the victim.

Ted watched the second of his Nazi agents being lifted onto a stretcher and up into the ambulance. He wanted to say something to the detective, but held back. If Ted were the fallen man’s companion, he would wait nearby long enough to hear where his friend was being taken so he could find out if he survived or not. If Ted showed his badge, he’d call attention to himself and blow his cover. Worse, this would announce to the Nazi suspect: “You were being followed.

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