Deliverer by Tamara Hart Heiner Read Free Book Online Page A

background. Truman nodded. One necklace wouldn't cancel out his debt, but in the hands of the right buyer, it was a step in the right direction. "How did it go?"
    "Fine. It went fine."
    Claber's voice changed, and Truman knew he wasn't telling everything. "What went wrong?"
    "Nothing went wrong." Claber hesitated. "I did what you said to do. Whatever it takes.”
    “Meaning?” Truman demanded, not sure he really wanted to know.
    “We had to take extra measures, that's all. We gassed the first two security guards without any problems. But another came around the bend right as we were leaving. We didn't expect him.”
    Truman swore. He hadn’t thought the other guards would venture so far from their posts. “Did he see you?”
    “He pulled his gun out."
    Truman exhaled, his heart rate slowing. "But you got away? And no one was hurt?" At least the raid wasn't wrecked.
    "None of us were hurt."
    Truman tensed as he realized the way Claber had phrased that. "Was someone else hurt?"
    "It was him or us, Boss. So I shot him."
    Another murder. Truman cursed and slammed his bottle onto the table. Was there nothing else Claber could’ve done? A line from The Life of Timon of Athens came to his mind: He commands us to provide and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer. Claber only had what Truman had given him to work with, and that had proven faulty. "Were you seen?"
    "The van, maybe. But we took out the plate light and blacked out the registration. We'll fix it tomorrow."
    "Where are you now?"
    "Heading for New Mexico. We're running high right now." Indeed, there was an exuberance in Claber's voice that Truman rarely heard. "We'll stop to rest closer to morning.”
    "Keep your eye out for cops," Truman instructed. His network in the US was strained, and more than likely he wouldn't be able to bail them out of trouble if the police found them.
    "We will," Claber said cheerfully.
    "Good job," Truman said, but the words felt remote. A hollowness filled his chest. He had the necklace. But at what cost?
    What was he becoming?
    #
    The ringing phone woke Truman from a deep slumber. His eyes refused to open and his head throbbed like someone had stuffed it with cotton.
    The phone stopped, and he hauled his pillow over his head. Birds whistled their early morning greeting outside, and he groaned. Details of the night before came back to him. Staying up until three a.m., the successful raid, stealing the Swan Lake necklace.
    The phone started up again, dancing its way toward the edge of the nightstand. Why would Claber be calling this early?
    He reached out and grabbed the phone. Restricted. A knot of trepidation formed in his gut. Claber would not call from a restricted number. But nobody else should even have his number. "Hello?"
    "Good morning, Truman." McAllister's voice purred through the line, cheerfully sinister. "How are you today?"
    The knot hardened into a cold rock. Truman wanted to ask how McAllister had gotten his number, but it was a moot point. He had the number, and it only showed that he was resourceful.
    Truman's house, tucked up in the pine-covered foothills of Montreal, was entirely self-sustaining. A well outside provided water. Generators created the electricity necessary for lighting, heating, and cooling. He had no land-line, only cell phones, and those were pay-as-you-go. No one could track him. No internet, either, except what he got on his phone and tablet. While records of the house existed, there was nothing to tie it back to him.
    The message was clear: it wouldn't be long before McAllister tracked down Truman's residential address, as well.
    These thoughts flashed through Truman's head in an instant. He cleared his throat, careful not to betray his fear. "Same to you. Not a social call, I assume."
    "Correct." Heavy breathing filled the phone line. "Do you hear that? It's a friend of yours. Say hello."
    Kessler. Truman heard the muffled sounds of fearful whimpers. He gritted his teeth. "I'm getting