CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Morituri te Salutamus The Tundra Cat slowed. I had taken the back bench-seat. Don and Dutch were up front, with the drivers near the windscreen. The box of Johnny Walker Black label had been carefully jammed under the front seats. The...
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO The Rotting Deck My Breguet told me that we were twenty minutes late for our meeting with the Russian Jeep, which was supposed to be all the way down at the dock, near the ship. Moreover, we did not have Hathoot’s passport. I was not...
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE To Live and Die for Dixie A small tendril of smoke curled up from the end of the suppressor, which I had once more pointed down at the floor. The machined steel part had done its first job well. There had been almost no sound. Possibly, a...
CHAPTER FORTY Wet Work On the way to the Lido deck, I stopped at Don’s room, and assured myself that the Basque was going to be on the radio while the rest of us were ashore. I opened Don’s door, unannounced, then greeted his bedmate. She held up her radio. I...
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Into the Valley Marlys left abruptly. Whether to terminate our relationship (one that might not exist), or simply to forget about me. I couldn’t tell. I locked the door. Then, I turned out the light, in order to enjoy a small measure of...