Message From -Creasy 5 by A. J. Quinnell Read Free Book Online Page B

it. So was Senator
Grainger's wife. It's known that some person or organization mounted a revenge
attack against the bombers in the Middle East. That fax more or less confirms
it. Creasy was involved."
    "He
was involved in a lot of things," Friedman answered grimly.
    "An
ex French Foreign Legionnaire, then a mercenary in the West African wars in the
sixties. And then in Vietnam and Cambodia as an 'unofficial' connected to our
special forces."
    "The
dogtag," she said.
    "The
dogtag?"
    "Yes,
Elliot. That has to be the connection. Maybe he knew Jake Bentsen over
there."
    "Let's
try and track it down. I want you to scrutinize every unit that Bentsen was attached
to. The records will not show if any 'unofficials' were attached, but I can use
my own unofficial sources to find out." He grinned. "Senator James L.
Grainger is not the only one with connections."
    The
taxi pulled up at the Hotel Continental. Every time she came to Ho Chi Minh
city she always decided to stay at a modern hotel, but inevitably she changed
her plans at the last minute and booked into the Continental. Her father had
stayed there very often during his years in Vietnam. He had told her of its
famous veranda and bar and its old colonial atmosphere. It was always a
bitter-sweet feeling as she went through the door. Then, after a few minutes,
it was better to have the memory and in a strange way feel his presence.
    She
stood under the old copper showerhead washing her hair and irreverently
thinking of the line from South Pacific, "I'm gonna wash that man right
out of my hair". Her boyfriend, the professor Jason, was not really in her
hair. Somehow her passion seemed to be on hold. Subconsciously she was waiting
for a man to come along: not to sweep her off her feet, but to light some
passion that she knew must lie within her. So far it had been dormant. She
enjoyed the company of the man, both mentally and physically, but the physical
side had always been more or less routine. A social act rather than a blending
of the body and the mind. She had watched some of her friends stumble madly
into love and then usually out of it. It had never happened to her.
    Perhaps
her mind was too logical, her life too controlled. She rinsed the shampoo from
her hair and soaped her long body. Again, her mind went back to Washington and
her boss.
    Elliot
had returned from his lunch with Senator Grainger at The Red Sage and
immediately dropped by her office. She had spent the first ten minutes pumping
him about the restaurant, the food and the clientele. His gossip was
satisfying. He had spotted the Vice-President's wife lunching with an ageing
actor, and the Attorney General with a couple of Senators. He was sure it had
all been strictly business. Grainger had ordered a plain grilled steak but
Elliot had been more adventurous, starting with a wild salmon mousse and going
on to duck a l"orange. It had been delicious. At first Grainger had been
cautious, obviously sizing up his man. But with the main course he had opened
up and talked about his personal life. The conversation had slowly turned to
Creasy. It appeared the two men were very close friends. It had begun with
their shared tragedy over Lockerbie indeed, Creasy had mounted a revenge attack
partially funded and assisted by Grainger. A couple of years later Creasy had
become involved in a sort of war against a white-slave-and-drug ring in France
and Italy. Grainger had been able to pull a few strings to help the mercenary
during that time. The ring had been destroyed and its leader killed. The Dane
Jens Jensen, together with The Owl, had been part of that operation. A year
later the daughter of one of Senator Grainger's constituents in Denver had been
murdered in Zimbabwe. The local police had made no progress and the dead girl's
mother had come to Grainger to ask his help in applying pressure on the State
Department to get results. Instead, Grainger had introduced her to Creasy who,
in his own way, had extracted justice. Jens