The Lazarus File: How Often Must an Undercover Agent Die in Order to Survive? by Donn Taylor

The Lazarus File: How Often Must an Undercover Agent Die in Order to Survive? by Donn Taylor

Author:Donn Taylor [Taylor, Donn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Robert Frost, Short Stories (Single Author), kidnap strike, CIA agent, Andean, attack, fiction, drug pilot, Colombia, Langley Virginia, international terrorist
ISBN: 9780967834399
Publisher: Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
Published: 2016-06-12T22:00:00+00:00


***

"You were wrong, Rodolfo," said the youngest farmer. "You swore that a shotgun loaded with salt would not injure the wall, but now you have blown a hole in it. I've a good mind to make you pay."

"Cut the argument," said the eldest. "We have to hurry." He cast an admiring glance at the girl. "You were magnificent, Elena, particularly when you signaled that he had no weapon. My cousin Ramón will be pleased."

"He'd better be!" Elena spat out the words. "My feet will ache for a week where that curly-haired donkey stepped on them. It will take a month to scrub his stinking cologne from the places he touched me." She made a face. "And why did the signal have to be caressing his neck? Why not kicking his shins?"

The apartment door opened and three men dressed as taxi drivers entered. The oldest farmer counted out money for them.

Elena looked sharply at one taxi driver, then demanded, "Where have I seen you before?"

The man's face showed more than embarrassment. "Never, Señorita. I have never set foot in Medellín before today."

"Then how did you know where to drive?"

He pointed to another driver. "My friend showed me this afternoon. He is a very good teacher."

The senior farmer intervened. "Ramón will be expecting us. Mary Mother forbid that we should keep him waiting!"

Elena stamped her foot. "Mary Mother forbid that he forget my twenty-third birthday next week! I will give him more trouble than a cat gives a mouse. Tonight was only practice."

She let herself be led to a waiting car, still wondering about the taxi driver. Except for his beard, she thought, he looked very much like one of the gunmen Ramón had driven out of her office. Perhaps they were distant kin.



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