Bodyguard of Lies by Bob Mayer Read Free Book Online

YOU.
    THE MAN IN THE PHOTO, JOHN MASTERSON, KNOWS THE WHAT. FIND HIM. HE IS IN ST. LOUIS WORKING FOR TYRO TECHNOLOGIES. THE OTHER PERSON IS HIS WIFE, HANNAH.
    WHO AND WHY WILL COME OUT IF YOU FOLLOW THE RIGHT PATH.
    BE CAREFUL. I’VE DONE MY BEST. I’M SORRY.
    GANT
     
    Neeley read the note once more. For all the years they’d been together, there was still so much she didn’t know. There were no tears staring at Gant’s writing. She’d spent them on the mountain. She put the note and the photo on the passenger seat and then weighed them down with the pistol Gant had given her on her birthday two years ago.
    The Glock Model 20 had been Gant’s weapon of choice and although initially Neeley had preferred the Model 17, the smaller 9mm version, Gant had finally convinced her to go for the larger caliber. His point was that 9mm was a magic number in pistols and many variations of body armor were designed for the magic number and that the 10mm slug would penetrate and kill where the 9mm would just piss someone off.
    The Model 20 held 15 rounds of 10mm ammunition. It had an integrated laser sight built into gun, replacing the recoil spring guide assembly, just below the barrel. Touching the trigger activated the laser. With no external hammer, the gun could smoothly be drawn without catching, and the safety was built into the trigger allowing rapid fire. The finish was flat black, designed not to absorb light.
    Gant had also taught her that the gun was only fifty percent of the equation. The bullets were the other half. The rounds in the gun had been handcrafted by Gant for high muzzle velocity and penetrating power. She had several spare magazines loaded with the same. She also had his loading equipment in the bed of the truck and had spent many hours at his side practicing the art until her efforts matched his.
    Neeley threw the truck into gear and headed for the Interstate. She had a long drive ahead of her. As her tires rumbled, she kept her eyes on the road but her mind drifted to more memories of Berlin.
    After defusing the bomb and leaving Templehoff, Gant took Neeley to a part of Berlin she had not seen during the time she had been there with Jean-Philippe. The sticker on the car windshield brought them a wave through at the base security checkpoint and suddenly they were no longer in Berlin or even in Germany. The American sector could have been any American army post back in the States.
    They drove past large housing complexes and schools, small shops and administrative offices. Gant slowly pulled into a large parking lot and took an empty slot close to the building marked commissary. He left her the keys and promised to return quickly. She watched him disappear into the cavernous building and began to shiver. Jean-Philippe had urged her into the cut-offs and t-shirt that morning and she was beginning to understand why. He had hoped any suspicion would be allayed by the promising scenery of her bare skin. Now her skin was mottled by goose bumps and she felt more alone than ever before. She had no idea who the stranger was, only that she trusted him so far.
    She watched the shoppers leaving the grocery store and felt her isolation grow. Who were all these women in khaki slacks and ponytails, their toddlers clutching tightly to hands or pants legs, any surface that offered protection? The people Jean-Philippe had associated with had all flashed large amounts of money. They wouldn’t have been caught dead in the outfits these people wore.
    When Gant walked back through the electronic doors, Neeley studied her benefactor as he strode toward the car. He appeared to be in his early thirties and was large and powerfully built. He toted the bags as though they were empty, all the while scanning the area to his front and side. She supposed he was handsome in a masculine, rugged fashion but to Neeley that was no comparison to Jean-Philippe's delicate features and long curling hair. The thought of her lover's face rising