The List by J.A. Konrath Read Free Book Online Page B

having a conversation.”
    “Who was Jessup?”
    “Thomas Edison.”
    “And the others?”
    “There’s a guy in Nebraska who we think is Abe Lincoln, and a guy in Tennessee who is probably Robert E. Lee.”
    Tom’s cell phone vibrated. He put it to his ear.
    “Nothing happening down here, Tommy. ‘Cept some guy just bought a lure worth more than my damn car. How’re things up there?”
    “Surreal. I’m with Bert in his room. Come up.”
    Tom hung up and stared at the Jefferson book, his mind a tangle.
    This had to be some kind of put-on. He flipped it open and found a description of the man. Six feet two inches tall. Thin and wiry. Sandy hair.
    “There has to be more proof than this. I can see that I look like Jefferson, and write like Jefferson, but I could be a relative, a great-great-grandson or cousin or something.”
    Bert nodded, his jowls jiggling. “I figured the same thing. I mean, I flunked biology in high school. I get headaches when I do long division. But it all fits. I can explain it to you.”
    Someone knocked at the door.
    “Ah. The guy who wants the Luny Frog. Fifteen hundred. Don’t let me go less than fifteen hundred.” Bert went to the door, pulling it open and pointing dramatically. “The Heddon Luny Frog, right? I’ve got it right here. Excellent plus condition. I couldn’t go less than fourteen hundred for it. Maybe thirteen. You can touch it, you don’t need to wear those gloves.”
    Tom shifted to see the person in the doorway. Male, white, medium build, with dark blue eyes and thick, almost feminine lips. His face appeared to be stretched too tight. He was wearing latex gloves and a poncho, even though it wasn’t raining.
    “ You can touch it, you don’t need to wear those gloves. I’m Jack.
    You’re Albert. We’ve both made history before, Albert. Let’s do it again.”
    Jack reached inside his poncho pocket but Tom was already on his feet with the pistol in his hand.
    “Freeze! Police!”
    Jack grabbed Albert by the sweater and tugged him forward, his arm around the smaller man’s neck, using him as a shield. A knife came out, wickedly sharp with a long curved blade, the kind of crazy design that freaks bought from classified ads in Soldier of Fortune magazine. Fast as a snake he brought the point under Bert’s chin.

    “I could cut out his eyes before you pull the trigger.”
    Bert lost all color. “I like my eyes. They’re my second favorite body part.”
    “Drop the weapon!”
    “ Drop the weapon. I know you. You’re Jefferson. I’m number ten.
    Saucy Jack. A hundred year old mystery revealed.”
    Tom’s finger flexed lightly on the trigger, aiming for the perp’s shoulder.
    “Drop the weapon, now!”
    “ Drop the weapon, now . I don’t think so. Maybe you drop the gun, hmm?”
    The knife slid half an inch into Bert’s chin, bringing forth a torrent of blood. Bert began to cry.
    Tom let out a breath, ready to fire. Jack must have sensed his intention, because he pulled Bert backwards into the hall. Tom moved to follow, but then he heard Bert yell, “There’s two!”
    A trap. Coming in low, under his line of fire, was Arthur Kilpatrick. He’d been waiting outside the door. Tom couldn’t bring the gun down in time and was caught in a flying tackle. Kilpatrick landed on top of him, his breath smelling of rotten meat.
    “Hello, Mr. President.”
    Tom’s gun was pinned next to his body, useless. But his left hand was only inches away from his pocket. The gravity knife. He yanked it out and flipped the switch. The blade sprung from the handle and locked into position. Tom jammed it into Kilpatrick’s hip.
    The small man howled, rolling off of Tom and hobbling for the door, the knife jutting out of his leg. Tom rolled to all fours and stumbled into the hall after him.

    Kilpatrick had gone left, heading for the stairwell. Tom brought up his gun, hesitant to take a shot. The hotel was fully booked. If he missed, the bullet could easily go through