Even by Andrew Grant

Author:Andrew Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: International Relations, Intelligence Officers, Mystery & Detective, General, Conspiracy, Suspense, Thrillers, Fiction, Espionage
ISBN: 0312540264
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2011-06-15T03:00:00+00:00

Lesley must have been holed up somewhere nearby because it only took her twenty minutes to arrive in the cellar. She made no sound creeping down the outside steps. She just appeared in the doorway, paused for a moment with one hand leaning on the frame, then launched herself into the room like a model strutting down a catwalk. Her eyes were fixed on me. I was in the corner next to the boiler, arms behind my back, leaning slightly forward to keep a realistic tension on the heavy chains. She stopped in the center of the room, leering at me, then suddenly the smile disappeared from her face.

“Where are my people?” she said. “They should be here.”

“The reception committee from my hotel?” I said. “They decided not to hang around.”

“Why? I told them to wait.”

“I guess they heard about Cyril. Thought you might be planning another demonstration.”

“The fools. There’ll be no more demonstrations. Tonight it’s your turn. I was going to let them watch.”

“Really? Maybe we should postpone, then. Wait till you’ve got a big enough audience?”

“No. It’s happening tonight. But don’t worry. People will still see it. George is going to tape the whole thing. Maybe I’ll have him put it on the Internet. Then everyone can enjoy it, all over the world.”

I heard a shuffling sound from outside and then George stumbled into the room. He was moving backward, helping the tall guy from Lesley’s house to carry a bright yellow hand truck. They set it down inside the doorway and the tall guy wheeled it toward the remains of the mattress. There were two things on it. A vehicle battery—heavy duty, probably from a truck or an SUV—and a polished mahogany box. It was ten inches wide, eight deep, and eight tall. On the front there was a rotating switch and a round, brass-edged dial. Two long thick cables snaked out from the side and lay in a coil on top of the box. One was attached to a large crocodile clip. The other was fixed to a wooden handle, twelve inches long, with a pointed bronze tip.

The two men wouldn’t catch my eye but Lesley moved over until she was almost close enough to touch me. She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out the bolt-cutter device she’d brandished in front of Cyril, and started into her routine of opening and closing its jaws.

“Remember my burdizzo?” she said. “What it does?”

“I remember,” I said. “But it’s only fair to warn you. There’s no way on earth I’m going to let you use that thing on me.”

“David, don’t worry. I have no intention of using it on you. There’s no need. Because you’re going to use it on yourself.”

“On myself? I don’t think so. On the scale of unlikely things that’s pretty much off the chart.”

“I understand, David. Most people in your position think that way, to start with. But their views always change. Yours will, too.”

“You think?”

“I know. See my wooden box? Can you guess what it’s for?”

“Making coffee? That would be useful, about now.

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