Place of Bones by Larry Johns Read Free Book Online

the girl yelled for the driver to go on, and the Renault was off and away, the door banging shut in flight. The Volvo stopped opposite me, its front passenger door open. I spared a second to glance up and down the street. Shops, and more heaps of rubble. The shops were still shuttered. A man on a cycle appeared at the far intersection, crossed, and was gone. There was no-one else in sight.
    “Colonel!” called a voice from the Volvo. “Quickly!”
    I loped over the road and climbed in. Chi Luang, the man who had contacted me in Crete, was behind the wheel. I closed the door behind me and we moved forward, at a normal speed. “I apologize for all this, colonel.” said Luang. “But you will see that it was not without good reason.”
    Chi Luang was an “Odd-Job” character; from the Bond movies. Big everywhere, but not fat, with a small mandarin style moustache and a completely bald, or was it shaven? head. Unlike the film character, Luang had an open, friendly face. He smiled continually and without apparent effort. In Crete he had talked politics for a long time over drinks and had surprised me by coming across as closer to a liberal than a communist. There was good and bad, he had said, on both sides of the divide. A trite line, to be sure, but coming from him it had sounded fresh and hopeful. He certainly did not impress me as a man who hated the west simply because it was the west. In fact, I did not think he hated anyone. He was either a true “citizen of the world,” or the world’s best actor. Politics leaves me cold, but I was glad I had listened to him. If only so I would know who I was working for. Fanatics - and I have worked for enough of those - are a danger to everyone around them.
    He went on, “I understand you were subjected to one of our infamous spot-checks. Was it dreadful?” His accent was perfect Oxford English. His use of British colloquialisms stemmed, he told me, from an Etonian education. I found it easy to like him. It happens like that sometimes.
    I shrugged. “Thorough shakedown. Toothcomb job.”
    “Ah, yes,” he said knowingly, negotiating the corner that brought us onto the airport road. “A harrowing experience, I am sure.” Then he frowned. “A toothcomb job...Tell me, colonel, does that refer to a tooth brush ? I’ve always wondered.”
    I glanced over towards the airport buildings and wondered if Brown and the gang were on the ball. I hoped not. “I don’t know,” I said, remembering the question. “I guess. Never gave it much thought. It’s just an expression.
    He nodded and the frown disappeared. “Of course. Silly question at a time such as this.”
    I could not fault him there. I caught a whiff of myself and figured a smoke-screen would be in order. “Do you mind if I smoke, mister Luang?” I knew from Crete that he did not himself indulge.
    He flapped a hand in the air. “My dear fellow, do go ahead.” All the same, he wound his window down a crack. Perhaps he preferred the smell of travel sweat. I slid mine down all the way and lit up. The smoke tasted foul and I wondered why I bothered with it myself. “A time such as what? ” I asked, figuring that attack was the better form of defence.
    Luang shrugged expansively. “I must stress at the outset, colonel, that there is nothing for you to be alarmed at. But the truth is we have a small security problem.”
    “Oh?” I said, thinking; Tell me about it!   “How much of a problem?”
    “It is never possible to be one hundred percent certain of security in...how shall I put it?...in this line of work. Ours , that is, colonel. Not yours; though I’m sure you have your own special kinds of problems. We all know that walls have ears, etcetera. But here in this part of the world the very air seems to be listening...and looking,” he added.
    I nodded. The cigarette now tasted better. I puffed a fan of smoke out the window and watched it get whipped away on the slipstream. “Miss Chan told me about the