Sensitive New Age Spy by Geoffrey McGeachin Read Free Book Online

turn our missing choirboys’ bunks and lives upsidedown and inside out. Look for anything at all that links them together. Julie will coordinate everything from here; it all goes through her. We haven’t got time to be doubling up or tripping over ourselves. And Julie, hit your network and see what you can dig up.’
    Julie had extensive contacts in local and overseas intelligence services, and in the military, law enforcement, law breaking, and some other areas that were just plain weird. In five minutes she’d be researching on the Net, emailing, phoning, and for all I knew flashing a heliograph or sending smoke signals from up on the roof.
    ‘I’ll be on my mobile if you need me, Jules,’ I added.
    Lonergan looked at me. ‘Where’re you headed?’
    ‘With two missing nukes in the hands of God knows who, I think now is the perfect time for me to seek some spiritual guidance.’

EIGHT
    When she opened the door I wasn’t sure if she was the Reverend’s wife or his daughter. Then I remembered Julie’s briefing: the stunningly gorgeous nineteen-year-old brunette is the daughter, the totally gorgeous 23-year-old blonde is the wife. Totally gorgeous was a bit of an understatement: Mrs Louise Priday was a knockout. The Reverend Laurence LaSalle Priday had so much to be grateful for.
    Mrs Priday was barefoot and wearing very short shorts and a pale-pink midriff shirt knotted under her breasts. The knot was straining a little at holding everything in. Her stomach was flat and tanned and toned and so dammed tight I bet bullets would bounce right off it. She pulled the huge wooden front door back and invited me in, after first eyeing me like I was the last lamb chop at a barbie. Flirtatious was an understatement for Mrs Priday, and no matter how hard I tried to keep my mind on the job as I followed her down thehall, the back view of those shorts was extremely distracting.
    We entered the biggest reception hall I’d ever seen in my life. Whole forests of old-growth trees must have given up their lives for the panelling in this room alone.
    ‘My husband should be back shortly, Inspector Murdoch,’ the Reverend Mrs Priday said.
    The fake police ID comes in handy in a situation like this, or when someone gets curious about the concealed pistol under my left armpit.
    ‘Can I offer you a little something in the meantime?’ She smiled and gave me that look again. Downright predatory.
    I settled for a glass of water, and Mrs Priday ushered me out to the sunny terrace and disappeared back into the house to organise it.
    The terrace was bigger than my whole apartment, and 35 million gets you a rather nice view. It included a curvaceous brunette in a bikini sunning herself on a slatted wooden deck-chair, sipping a Goodie watermelon juice. This would have to be the teenage daughter. She glanced up from her book and smiled. It was a really lovely smile.
    ‘I’m Cristobel,’ she said, sitting up and closing her book.
    ‘My name’s Alby, Alby Murdoch,’ I said. ‘I’m just waiting for your dad. Good book?’
    ‘It most certainly is, Mr Murdoch. The very best book, in fact.’ She held it up.
    The combination of a King James Bible and a Tiger Lily bikini was pretty arresting and I found myself lost for words.
    ‘It’s very hot today, isn’t it Mr Murdoch? Is Louise getting you a drink?’
    I nodded. ‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ I said.
    ‘We are blessed. A generous benefactor donated this wonderful home for the use of the church, and Daddy feels we should live here as an inspiration to others.’
    The way she said it sounded totally genuine, even a little touching. By sheer force of will I took my eyes off Cristobel’s tanned, lithe body and looked out over the harbour. In the distance I could see Fort Denison and the moored tanker, which was now surrounded by police and Navy launches.
    ‘Nice view,’ I said. ‘Must have been a bit of a scare this morning, though?’
    Cristobel shook her head. ‘We saw the