Red Alert by Alistair MacLean Read Free Book Online Page A

her fingers to catch the barman's attention. She asked \ him to refill her glass. I 'Monsieur?' the barman asked Whitlock. I 'The gentleman was just leaving,' she answered. When I the barman had gone she turned to Whitlock. 'Thanks for I the second honeymoon, all three days of it. I suppose I \ should be grateful it lasted that long.' | 'Carmen - '
    'Leave me alone!'
    He kissed her on the cheek. There was nothing he could say.
    She stared ahead of her as he left the bistro. She was damned if she would give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears in her eyes.
    45
    THREE
    Tuesday
    The BA 707 touched down at Heathrow at midnight, ten minutes behind schedule. Whitlock took a taxi to the address in East Acton he had been given in his brief. It turned out to be a red-brick bungalow with a low wooden fence running the length of a small, neat garden. The gate squeaked as he opened it. An old intelligence trick. He instinctively looked around. The street was deserted. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the front door, dumping his overnight bag at the foot of the hallstand. He switched the light on and took in the unobtrusive patterned carpet, the pale-blue walls and the framed photograph of the Queen which hung between the two doors to his right. The first door led into a lounge. The second led into a bedroom. He glanced at his watch. 12.45. He had no idea when the antiterrorist squad were going to brief him. Tonight? Tomorrow morning? It was up to them to contact him. He certainly wasn't going to wait up for them. He picked up his overnight bag and j headed for the bedroom, turning on the light at the wall j switch as he went in.
    The man in the armchair facing the door was in his j mid-thirties with a pale complexion and cropped blond ' hair. The automatic in his right hand was aimed at the j centre of Whitlock's chest.
    Whitlock recognized it as a Browning high power, al favourite handgun of the British special forces. He dumped]
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    his bag on the bed. 'Are Scotland Yard's antiterrorist squad always so cordial to foreign visitors, Major Lonsdale?'
    The man picked up a photograph of Whitlock from the table beside him, looked at it, then put it down again, laying the Browning on top of it. 'You can never be too careful these days,' he said with a grin, then got to his feet, hand extended. 'George Lonsdale.'
    Whitlock shook his hand.
    'Your accent intrigues me,' Lonsdale said. 'Eton? Harrow?'
    'Nothing so grand, I'm afraid. Radley.'
    'Really? I'm an Old Etonian myself.' Lonsdale clapped his hands together. 'Well, how much have you been told about the London operation?'
    'Only that you'd be my contact once I got here.'
    'I guessed as much. Let's go through to the lounge, we can discuss the details in there.' Lonsdale slipped the Browning into his shoulder holster then picked up a folder from the table and led the way. He switched on the light and indicated the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. 'What's your poison?'
    'I wouldn't say no to a scotch and soda. No ice.'
    'Coming up,' Lonsdale replied, crossing to the cabinet.
    'We always keep a bit of alcohol in our safe houses. It can
    get pretty frustrating being cooped up in a place like this
    for days on end. We find that alcohol helps to relieve the
    tension.' 'As long as it's taken in moderation.'
    'You sound like a commercial for AA,' Lonsdale said i.with a smile and handed Whitlock his drink. He raised i his own glass. 'Here's to a successful operation.'
    Til drink to that,' Whitlock replied, taking a sip of his twhisky.
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    Lonsdale sat down facing him. 'How much do you know about Alexander?'
    'I read his background history on the plane. What I don't know about him isn't worth finding out. One thing does puzzle me, though. If Wiseman doesn't know what Alexander looks like, how can this Young be sure he's springing the real Alexander from the prison van?'
    'Young's hired a couple of locals who've worked with Alexander in the past. It's Young's insurance against