Burning the Apostle: The November Man Book 13 by Bill Granger

Author:Bill Granger [Granger, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, General, Espionage
ISBN: 9781473604759
Google: pcD4AwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2014-08-20T12:00:00+00:00

Twenty-two

Max Escher came up behind her as she entered her apartment building on Q Street, and slipped his arm around her waist. Henry, the doorman, watched to see what she would do.

The action startled her.

Max grinned his cockeyed grin. Britta’s instinct was to be angry with him but the grin stopped it and the doorman who watched them stopped it. She was not in the habit of providing entertainment for people like Henry the doorman. They went into the elevator.

“How are you?”

“I thought you were going to call me,” she said.

“I was thinking about that and then I thought it was better to see you. I wasn’t wrong about that. Fly out seven hundred miles to see you and you’re worth every mile, kid.”

“I’ve got something for you,” she said.

“You got a kiss for me?”

“I’ve got secret testimony on what a wreck the Apostle power plant is. A subcommittee of the Senate, a secret subcommittee.”

He frowned then and let his hand slide off her waist. They rode to her apartment in the elevator in silence. She was puzzled by that. She looked at him curiously and then fished her keys out of the purse and unlocked her front door.

He followed her into the front room. Everything was neat, ordered. It was her way in life to be neat and orderly. She thought she could never marry anyone because that would be a messy corner of her life she would have to live around. If she wanted companions, she could always have companions. And there were servants, as many as she wanted to buy. Like Max now, who was a servant in a way, who acted like he was more. He sprawled his frame onto a precise white chair by the window.

She closed the door. “I don’t like to be touched when I’m not asked,” she said.

“Is that right?”

It was a punk’s reply, she thought.

“I’ve got hundreds of pages of testimony,” she said. “Really good stuff, you can use it in your research—”

“Oh, that’s horseshit. I’ve got no time to read a bunch of transcripts. I’ve got the plant schematics—”

“Then how’re you going to get into the plant?”

He stared at her for a moment. “You look so good, I could eat you up. The funny thing about me is that I get that way in operations. Always have. Get my adrenaline going or something, it affects my testosterone.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.”

“I don’t want to hear about your fucking testimony. What’d you do to him to get him to give you the papers? You go down on him?”

“You are crude, Mr. Escher, and I despise that,” she said. Her voice was full of frost.

“What’d you do for him?”

“I didn’t do anything for him. He did it for me.”

Max Escher smiled at that. He looked out the window then, away from her, still smiling. “I bet he did. I bet you stamped your foot and he jumped. I just bet he did.”

He turned back to her. “You’re used to running men, aren’t you, Britta?”

“I want you to read the testimony.

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