The Rainy Day Man: Contemporary Romance (Suspense and Political Mystery Book 1) by Amnon Jackont Read Free Book Online

tourist-guide. 
                  "Maniac!" our driver yelled and pulled over to the side.  We crossed a wide intersection, bounced over a steel bridge, rapidly passed a long row of trees and rolled into a sandy square to the barking of a dozen dogs.
                  The driver switched the engine off.  The dogs, dirty and mangy, surrounded us in a circle, baring their teeth.  The soldiers teased them, shouting, yodeling and chirruping at them. 
                  "What do we do now?"  Scheckler asked.  One did not need to be overburdened with sensitivity to feel the tension in him.  He was testing me.
                  "We'll wait," I said.
                  "By all means.  Only get a move on.  These people," he gestured towards the back of the vehicle, "are working men.  We have vehicles to fix."
                  At the other end of the sandy square two figures were standing at the entrance to a low building, the left one of three, on the wall of which was written, "Clinic" in Arabic.  The central building was apparently used for accommodation:  a checkered curtain fluttered at a window and a bougainvillea shrub climbed the wall.  From the last building, obviously a garage, I could see the enormous rear of a yellow car sticking out.  A broad sycamore tree shaded the entire area.
                  One of the figures, a woman, called something to us. 
                  "Come here," I shouted in rusty Arabic.  "Come here."             
                  The dogs burst out with a flurry of barking.  She said something to the other figure, a tall youngster who was leaning against the door-post, wiping his hands on a rag.  After that she started walking, taking small, careful steps.  Her head, which was crowned with a mane of reddish-brown hair, was bent to the ground. 
                  "Make her look up," someone shouted from behind us.  "Let's see her face."
                  "Shut them up," I told Scheckler.
                  "Quiet," he shouted, half serious, half mocking.
                  The woman gave the dogs a command and they surrounded her obediently as she stood in front of the command car.  "What do you want?"  Her voice was low and slightly husky.
                  "To see..." I studied the cable, "Anton Khamis."
                  Her face clouded.  "He's not here."
                  "When will he come?"
                  "I don't know."
                  "We'll have to wait for him," I said.
                  She shrugged her shoulders.
                  "Calm the dogs down."  I swung my leg over Scheckler's skinny knees, jumped down and began walking across the sand towards the building.  Behind me I heard the sound of another six pairs of boots landing on the ground.  The driver remained in his seat.
                  "There's a car here," Scheckler said.  "Maybe he's hiding."
                  The woman retreated, silencing the dogs with a gesture.  The soldiers overtook her and ran towards the clinic and the garage. 
                  "Wait," I shouted, before they got out of control.  "Three of you guard the front, three go to the back."  The uneasiness I was feeling increased when I noticed the youth slip into the garage.  How many people lived here?  If there were a lot we'd have to come back another day. 
                  "We'll have to search," Scheckler said eagerly.  I waited for the woman, who was walking behind us. 
                  "May we see the clinic?" I asked politely.
                  Silently she changed direction.  The sound her feet made in the sand was uneven, unmatched.  Her light panting indicated that she was making an effort.  We followed her into the treatment room, which