Retribution by Ian Barclay Read Free Book Online

boost, because Sylvia
     was an old-fashioned girl, the kind who believes that a man should hold the door open for her and pay the bill.
    Richard Dartley was an exception to this rule. She had cooked steaks for them in her Washington apartment, saying that she
     supposed she should be grateful he had not become a vegetarian.
    “Or a celibate,” Dartley added.
    She smiled.
    After dinner she slipped out of her caftan and strode naked on high heels into her bedroom. Dartleyfollowed her in and found her standing before a full-length mirror, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulders. The large,
     proud globes of her breasts were reflected in the mirror. His eyes roved over her broad shoulders, down her back to where
     it narrowed sharply to her waist, the cleft at the base of her spine, the smooth curves of her ass. He felt his cock stiffen.
    He kicked off his shoes and discarded his clothes. Walking up behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked
     at her breasts in the mirror. Her nipples were erect and the areolae were dark and distended. His hands slid from her shoulders
     and stroked her breasts.
    He pressed his body into her back, letting her feel his stiff dick. She turned to face him and they tightly embraced.
    He led her across the room and pushed her down on the bed. She lay back with her eyes shut, waiting submissively for him to
     take his pleasure with her.
    Naim had them do a dry run the previous day and everything had worked perfectly, with the timing just right. Hasan had the
     most objections, so Naim had him take the main part, which Naim himself would take the following day. Hasan’s objections were
     reasonable.
    “They told us that Oxford University exists for its students, not tourists,” Hasan said. “Christ Church College was getting
     so crowded, they have to limit tourists to small groups between 9:30 to noon and 2:00 to 4:30. You even have to pay an entrance
     fee. It’scrazy to go into any restricted environment like that when the streets are open and unwatched.”
    “I agree,” Naim said. “It’ll be the last place they will expect terrorists to strike. I’m sure all three of us would be taken
     in for questioning if we set foot within a mile of London Airport. But they won’t be watching for us at Christ Church.”
    Hasan gesticulated with his hands. “Why Christ Church? Why not Westminster Abbey?”
    “Because that would be taken as an attack on religion,” Naim explained. “Ilt’s Christ Church
College
we’re targeting. Why that one? Two reasons. It is old and beautiful and draws tourists. The second reason is more important.
     Of all the Oxford and Cambridge colleges, Christ Church supplies by far the greatest number of members of Parliament. In a
     single act we will show them that nothing they revere is safe from us.”
    Hasan smiled slowly. “It is worth the risk,” he said.
    Six months before Naim had spent three days visiting Oxford. He had spent some time then at Christ Church College and knew
     exactly where he would go. On the second day Hasan and Ali drove to Oxford separately along the M40 and A40. Naim took an
     express train from Paddington Station, a journey of about an hour which he hoped to complete unnoticed. But he had no such
     luck. A moderately insane elderly woman with dried flowers in her straw hat sat next to him, informed him that he was a kind-looking
     young man and proceeded to tell him what was on her mind.Pigeons were robbing all the seeds from her bird feeder, bullying away the little songbirds.
    Naim nodded sympathetically to her and looked around desperately for another empty seat. There wasn’t one.
    She told him her bird feeder was on top of an antique stone column around which ivy grew. She claimed it had been the centerpiece
     of her garden— before the pigeons discovered it. She had clapped her hands and shouted at them. This worked at first and then
     not at all. In fact one afternoon one of the pigeons landed on her