The Brotherhood of the Rose by David Morrell Read Free Book Online Page A

a directional microphone.
    But Eliot knew better. He always carried a jamming device that interfered with microphones.
    Maybe one of Eliot's men was a double agent. But for whom'? The Mossad?
    Saul shut the door. The light went off. He used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his chest. In the night, he felt tired and cold.
    He didn't like coincidences. Eliot had sent him to Atlantic City, a location that seemed unusual, where a member of the disbanded team had tried to... Saul began to shiver. Eliot had also sent him to the abandoned hotel, where again Saul had almost been killed.
    The common denominator. Eliot. The implication was unthinkable. Eliot-Saul's foster father-had put out a contract on him?
    No! Saul pulled down his turtleneck sweater and stepped from the car, tugging on his sportcoat. Five o'clock-the eastern sky was turning gray.
    He left the trailer court, walking in pain along the highway. At the truck stop, he waited in the shadow of a semi till its driver left the restaurant.
    The driver stiffened when he saw him. "Fifty bucks for a ride," Saul said, "Against the rules. You see that sign? No passengers. I'd lose my job."
    "A hundred."
    "So you mug me when you get the chance. Or your buddies hijack the truck,"
    "Two hundred."
    The driver pointed. "Blood on your clothes. You've been in a fight, or you're wanted by the cops."
    "I cut myself shaving. Three."
    "No way. I've got a wife and kids."
    "Four. That's my limit."
    "Not enough."
    "I'll wait for another driver." Saul walked toward a different truck. "Hey, buddy."
    Saul turned.
    "That kind of money, you must really need to get out of town."
    "My father's sick."
    The driver laughed. "And so's my bank account. I hoped you'd offer five."
    "Don't have it."
    "Ever seen Atlanta?"
    "No," Saul lied. "You're going to." The driver held out his hand. "The money?"
    "Half now. "Fair enough. In case you get any funny ideas, I'd better warn you. I was in the marines. I know karate."
    "Really," Saul said. "Assume the position while I search you. I'd better not find a gun or a knife."
    Saul had thrown away the silencer and put the small Beretta in his underwear, against his crotch. The gun felt uncomfortable, but he knew only naked body searches were accurate, The driver would frisk the contours of Saul's body-the arms, up the legs, and along the spine. But Saul was doubtful the driver would feel his privates or reach inside his underwear, If the driver did... "All you'll find is four hundred dollars," Saul told him. "In Atlanta, if the cops come looking for me, I'll know who to blame. I'll phone your boss and tell him about our arrangement. It'll be a comfort to me to know you lost your job."
    "Is that any way to talk to a pal?" The driver grinned. As Saul expected, the frisk was amateurish.
    Through the gleaming day, as the truck roared down the highway, he pretended to sleep as he brooded over what had happened. Eliot, he kept thinking. Something was horribly wrong. But he couldn't keep running. He couldn't hide forever.
    Why does Eliot want to kill me? Why the Mossad? This much was sure-he needed help. But who to trust? The sun glared through the windshield. Clutching his chest, he sweated, feverish, thinking of Chris. His foster brother. Remus.
    Church OF THE MOON
    Among the surge of Orientals on noisy, acrid Silom Road, the tall Caucasian somehow avoided attention. He moved with purpose, smoothly, steadily, blending with the rhythm of the crowd. As soon as someone sensed him, the man was already gone. An untrained observer could not have guessed his nationality. French perhaps, or English. Maybe German. His hair was brown, but whether dark or light was hard to say. His eyes were brown, yet blue and green. His face was oval yet rectangular. He wasn't thin but wasn't heavy either. Ordinary jacket; shirt and pants of neutral color. In his thirties, maybe older, maybe younger. Without scars or facial hair. Unusual in only one respect-he seemed to be invisible.
    In fact,