Michael Shea by Break Point

Author:Break Point [Point, Break]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-06-01T22:53:45+00:00

She was sitting on the edge of the couch and without being too aware of it he had sat beside her, unable to leave. She was wearing a white blouse with a high Russian collar and it was partly transparent so that he was able to make out the line of her figure beneath it. They sat talking quietly and waiting. Some time later, he stretched his right hand out along the back of the couch and gently touched the nape of her neck, but she neither moved nor responded. He rested his hand there as they continued to talk, then brought it up slowly, caressing her neck where the auburn hair merged with the shirt. She turned to face him.

‘Bastard.’

‘No memories, remember.’

‘No memories. I don’t need them, I just read it in your file.’ She almost smiled.

‘Revealing classified information gives a mean advantage: there’s no file on you.’

‘That’s my only point so far.’

His hand moved to cup her neck and he pulled her gently towards him. She resisted a little. ‘Don’t make me.’

‘Never again, I promise you. Unless you want me to.’

They were lying side by side on her bed. It was quarter to six on the morning of Tuesday, March 8.

He sat up. ‘I can’t relax without knowing.’

‘You weren’t bored waiting?’ She turned to watch him in the half light.

‘Not too bad …’ He was smiling.

‘I understand. OK. I’ll try and see how the battle goes. Maybe even the hospital.’

Without bothering to pull the sheets around her, she sat up in bed. Her breasts swayed gently as she reached forward to switch on a side-light and pick up the telephone. He moved over to play with them.

‘Please. I’ve got to concentrate.’

She got the Duty Officer at Number Ten. The advice was firm: the Embankment battle was still going strong, and there would be no point in trying to reach the hospital for the time being.

‘I’ll try again my way.’ Gregory reached across her for the phone, dialled a number which was answered immediately. ‘Head of Station?’ he said. ‘This is Gregory. About my office …’

The call had wakened him and the CIA Head of Station was neither too quick nor good-humoured. ‘Yeah, I heard,’ he said slowly. ‘That was eight hours ago. Since then the world’s been trying to get you. Where the hell are you? I had the Admiral on the phone, mad as an ape that 1 had agreed to drop your guard. That won’t happen again, I can tell you, girl or no girl. Then we went up scale with the President’s office calling. For good measure I had one of your men from your New York office, one Mick Vanderman, hollering for you. Urgent.’

‘So I’m sorry. I tried the Embassy after it happened but couldn’t contact you. So I went underground for a bit. It didn’t look too safe.’

‘You could have reported in again. Picked up my man.’

‘No time, sorry. What about Mason?’

‘Four bullets, one of them serious, the other three flesh wounds. They were operating a little while ago.

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