Gibraltar Passage by T. Davis Bunn Read Free Book Online Page B

moved. He took another sip from his glass and repeated, “Tell me what you know.”
    His eyes still flickering from Jake to the gun and back again, the smuggler replied, “Others have been asking questions.”
    Pierre nodded as though expecting nothing else and said calmly, “Jacques and the scarred man.”
    Dark eyes blazed with fury. “Tell me who has spoken,” Abdul Hassad snarled. “By the Prophet’s beard, he will dine upon his own tongue.”
    â€œWhere were they from?” Pierre demanded. “Morocco?”
    Abdul Hassad ground his teeth in silence. The barkeeper tried to struggle, and Jake screwed up his arm lock until the man squealed in pain. The greasy little barkeeper smelled of old sweat and cheap tobacco and new fear. Jake raised the gun until it was focused directly into Abdul Hassad’s glowering eyes.
    â€œMarrakesh,” the huge man conceded.
    Pierre nodded at the news. “Did they speak of a traitor?”
    A snarl from across the room was cut off by a roared command from Abdul Hassad. “Get out while your legs can still carry you,” he growled at Pierre.
    â€œWhat about Gibraltar?” Pierre pressed.
    â€œI have said all that is to be said,” the huge man muttered.
    Pierre glanced toward Jake and motioned his head toward the door. Dragging the barkeeper along with him, Jake circled the bar, the gun never leaving Abdul Hassad’s face. Pierre opened the door, waited for Jake to exit, then said to the huge man, “You have been most helpful.”
    The barkeeper struggled harder when Jake started down the sidewalk without releasing him. Jake tightened the choke hold and picked up the pace. The barkeeper wrapped both hands around Jake’s arm and shuffled along on legs that could scarcely hold him up. His two-day stubble burned Jake’s forearm like sandpaper.
    Pierre stuck his face up close to the man’s and snarled words in French. Then to Jake he said, “Keep walking toward the harbor.”
    â€œNo problem,” Jake said. “Take the gun, will you? I’ll be able to move faster.”
    Pierre accepted the gun from Jake’s grasp and snarled something more to the whimpering barkeeper. Jake asked, “Are they behind us?”
    Pierre glanced back. “No. It is not their way. They will wait until dark and try to strike us in the back.”
    â€œSounds noble.” Jake shook the man hard as fingers tried to pry his arm loose. “Then why are we bothering with this guy?”
    â€œI want to get him out of sight. Down here.”
    They turned down a narrow, filth-strewn alley that emptied directly into the bay. When the water came into view, the barkeeper wailed and struggled anew.
    â€œWait,” Pierre said. When they stopped he stuck his face within inches of the barkeeper’s and roared. The manwhimpered a reply. Another angry command. The barkeeper spewed a fear-filled response.
    Pierre took a step back, his face filled with cold loathing. “Let him go.”
    The man dropped to all fours, coughed and rubbed his neck, then struggled to his feet. With one vengeful glance back at Jake, he turned and fled down the alley.
    â€œWhat did you learn?”
    â€œThe hunters were indeed here,” Pierre replied, his eyes upon the now-empty alley. “They have traveled on to Gibraltar.”

Chapter Six
    Jake returned to Mass the next morning, trying hard not to hope for a repeat of the previous day’s revelation. Still, when he remained untouched by the liturgy, he could not help but feel disappointment.
    After the service, Pierre’s mother motioned for him to remain behind while her husband exited the church. A familiar figure rose from one of the side alcoves and approached. Despite his surprise, Jake noticed the respectful greetings and formal half bows with which many people greeted Jasmyn. Madame Servais smiled sadly at the dark beauty, patted Jake’s arm, and