Tales From the Black Chamber by Bill; Walsh Read Free Book Online Page B

stopped, halfway to the door. “Yes.”
    â€œDo you have that FBI agent’s number?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œCall him.”
    Moments later, Anne’s head spun even more when, having explained the situation to Agent Hunter, he said, “Go with Mr. Ashton, Ms. Wilkinson. We know him. He’s trustworthy. Let me make a few calls to the New York field office to find out what the state of the investigation of the shooting is, and I’ll be in touch with you later tonight or tomorrow. But for now, come down here to Washington. You’ll be much safer. And Mr. Ashton is no threat to you. I promise.”
    After hanging up, Anne grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and plopped angrily into a chair. She tried to formulate a fierce accusation. “You’re not a librarian.”
    â€œNo, I’m not. Mildred was our Librarian. I’m the Historian.”
    â€œFor the Coolidge Foundation, about which you can tell me nothing—but that arms its librarians and historians.”
    He shrugged helplessly.
    â€œOkay, fine. We won’t talk about you. But we’re awfully alone here. You owe me the benefit of your knowledge about what happened at the hotel,” she said angrily, hoping she wouldn’t burst into tears and ruin the effect.
    â€œAbsolutely. But I swear to you, I really don’t know. I’m guessing those are the guys who killed Mildred and, like we thought, they’re trying to kill you because they think you know something about the book. And, if we left any pages behind, they’ll know we have it. Which can’t be good. But, look, all I know is that I thought Milton had brought the coffee and chocolate mousse, so I raise my eyes and there are two guys in the doorway holding H&K MP5SDs.”
    â€œThose are guns, I assume?” she asked, a little abashed at the sarcasm leaking into her words.
    â€œYes. German-made nine-millimeter submachine guns with integral silencers. Extremely accurate and the weapon of choice of hostage-rescue and commando teams—”
    â€œNot interested. So, they had guns. What did they look like?”
    â€œWhite guys in suits. That’s all I got.”
    â€œI wonder if one of them was Creepy Guy from my office.”
    â€œCould be,” said John, taking a deep breath. “Okay, so, thank God they didn’t have their guns aimed or we’d both be dead. So I’m guessing that they’re not ex-commandos or the like. Anyway, I turned over the table, trying to dump all the pages towards us, pulled my gun and fired as much as I could to try and keep them out. That seemed to work. They looked surprised as hell. Then they hid behind the doorframes, shooting at me every so often. I think I winged one guy in his arm, but it must have just been a graze, because it didn’t faze him. And this,” he drew his gun, “is a Glock 37 chambered in .45 GAP.” John popped out the magazine and unloaded a bullet onto the side table, then pulled the slide back and placed the bullet’s ejected twin next to it. “If you get hit solidly with one of these, you drop your gun and go down.”
    â€œYou’re not going to take that on the plane,” Anne said, incredulous, as he reloaded the two bullets, chambered one, and holstered the weapon.
    â€œI am. We’re not going through security. And if those guys can ambush us with automatic weapons in midtown Manhattan, they could jump us on a plane with a plastic shiv or garrote just as easily.”
    â€œBut they don’t know we’re here; and, how…?” Her voice trailed off.
    â€œI hope they don’t know we’re here. But hey, what if they put a transmitter in your wallet or shoe? It’s awfully hard to know. And as to how I can get on a plane with a gun, again, I’m going to have to tell you I can’t tell you how.” He raised his hands in helpless apology.
    Anne was amazed as they were led onto the