Die Twice by Andrew Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

Innocuous stuff. Standard chain-store issue, probably bought specially. What you’d expect from people who know how to look anonymous.”
    “That kind of thing is safe to ask the police to follow up. But it does make sense. Shows a level of professionalism. And it ties in with the arms-dealing angle. Just like the weapons. MP5s are expensive pieces of kit.”
    “They are. But you can never be sure. I saw one on a council estate in Leeds, once.”
    “You’re not being a lot of help here, David.”
    “Then maybe the autopsies will reveal something.”
    “How? You shot both guys. Multiple times. Pretty straightforward, no?”
    “Forget cause of death. Think stomach contents. That might tell us where they’re from, if they followed McIntyre to the States in the last couple of days.”
    “Oh. Good thinking. I’ll talk to the PD about that, too. Try to get the medical examiner to put a rush on it.”
    “And what about their identities? If they entered the country legally, there should be a record somewhere.”
    A muffled soprano started singing an aria from
The Magic Flute
somewhere inside Fothergill’s jacket. It was his phone. He pulled it out and placed it on the desk between us. Then he must have caught the look on my face.
    “I love Mozart,” he said. “Don’t you?”
    “Are you going to answer that?” I said.
    “No. Whoever it is, they can wait. We need to get some kind of plan worked out, first. We should draw up a list of actions. Then we can decide what’s reasonable to pass on to the police, in terms of security and logistics. And whatever’s left, we’ll deal with ourselves.”
    I heard a sharp knock behind me, the door swung open, and Fothergill’s assistant appeared. Sadly he wasn’t bringing refreshments.
    “Did your mobile not ring?” he said, glancing down at the cell phone on the desk.
    “It did, actually,” Fothergill said. “Didn’t quite manage to answer it in time, though. Anything important?”
    “It was London,” he said. “Word has spread. They gave me two minutes to find you. Sounds like it’s time to break out the asbestos underwear.”
    “Damn,” Fothergill said. “One minute they refuse the resources I need. The next, they’re moaning when the job goes pear-shaped. I can’t win.”
    I began to think there was a little more field agent left in him than I’d given credit for. His assistant just shrugged.
    “David, I’m sorry,” Fothergill said. “I’m going to have to make this call. How about you head back to your hotel? Catch your breath a little? And as soon as I can get anything concrete pulled together I’ll have it biked straight over to you. Then you can review it in peace.”
    I figured that between fending off his bosses in London and calling in favors in the States, Fothergill was going to have his hands fullfor quite a while. My hotel was only twenty minutes from the consulate. There was no chance he’d have anything for me to see in that length of time. Which meant I could turn my attention to more important matters. Such as food. I hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast. That was the best part of nine hours ago, and I was starving.
    On the plane yesterday I heard a couple arguing about which was their favorite restaurant in Chicago. The debate was intense. It lasted nearly an hour. At first I thought a Spanish place was certain to come out on top. Then a Mexican, with a choice of bars. But ultimately, the winner was French. I remembered the name. And the location. It was convenient—on Hubbard, not much farther away than the clinic. The menu sounded good. The prices, reasonable. The service, not too intrusive. The decor, not too fussy. Which left me with only one problem. The restaurant where I was supposed to meet Tanya for our final, ill-fated dinner had been French. Part of me never wanted to go into one again. I was on the verge of heading for the Mexican instead, but I realized that was ridiculous. I couldn’t let my life be ruled by