Deep Black by Stephen Coonts; Jim Defelice Read Free Book Online Page B

professional nod, however, and after smiling in response he turned to
     look at the stage, determined to be discreet in his ogling.
    Which meant he had a perfect view a moment later when the lead guitarist did a full-gainer off the stage into the nearby pool,
     guitar and all.
    Unfortunately, the guitar was still plugged into its amp and power source. Even more unfortunately, Congressman Greene had
     just gone in the pool himself. The enormously loud pop and the massive blue spark that enveloped the stage appeared to some
     in the audience as just another part of the band’s act, but the odor of ozone and fried gristle that followed permitted no
     such delusion.

6
    The first flight on the board at Gate Two proved to be a flight to Rzeszow, a city in southeastern Poland. Dean dutifully
     bought his ticket, though he had begun to have his doubts about both the woman from the rest room and the mission itself.
     Hadash had said it would be easy; Dean had doubted that, but he had at least thought it would be straightforward. So far it
     had been anything but.
    Looking at the plane did nothing to assure him. The aircraft could be charitably described as a torpedo-shaped screen door
     with propellers attached. In fairness, the Ilyushin IL-14 had been a serviceable transport in its day; unfortunately, its
     day had come and gone fifty years before.
    As Dean strapped himself into the thinly padded seat, two Polish nuns took the row in front of him. Undoubtedly their presence
     was beneficial, because the plane made it to Rze-szow in one piece.
    Dean followed the others out the cabin door, down the stairway to the tarmac, lit in the darkness by a pair of distant lights.
     The passengers had to retrieve their own bags; Dean hesitated for a moment before grabbing the blue-and-brown suitcase he
     had been given back in the States. He snapped out the handle and began pulling the suitcase behind him toward the nearby terminal
     building. He had taken only a few steps when a Polish customs agent materialized from the shadows, demanding in good but brusque
     English that he follow him back to his office. Dean’s muscles tensed and his eyes narrowed into wary slits as he studied the
     shadows for the most likely ambush spots. But rather than shanghaiing him in the customs office, the Polish officer led Dean
     through a narrow corridor at the side of the terminal to an outside door. He grinned and held it open.
    A wave of paranoia flushed through Dean, but there was nothing to do but go through the door. For a moment he feared that
     the man’s coffee-stained teeth would be his last memory of the world.
    They weren’t. A car waited a short distance away. In the driver’s seat was the woman he had seen in Heathrow.
    “In,” she said.
    “You want to pop the trunk so I can put my suitcase in?”
    “Leave it,” she said. “It’s junk. Same with the carry-on. Clothes probably don’t fit anyway.”
    Dean hauled the suitcase around to the other side of the car anyway. He might have thrown the bags in the back, except that
     the woman pressed the accelerator as he opened the door. He barely got inside in one piece.
    “Did I do something to you, or have you been a bitch all your life?” asked Dean.
    “Listen, Chuck, there’s one thing we have to get straight,” she started.
    She didn’t finish, because Dean had his hands around her throat.
    “Enough is enough,” he told her, nudging his right hand against her neck. His fingers held a small, very sharp blade made
     of a carbon-resin fiber he’d smuggled aboard the plane in the back of his belt. The material was only 90 percent as strong
     as the steel used in the best class of assault knives, but 90 percent was more than enough to slit a throat, even a pretty
     one.
    “Your call,” said the woman, whose foot remained on the gas.
    “Pull off the road gradually,” said Dean.
    “I don’t think so. We’re being followed.”
    Dean pushed the knife blade ever so gently against her