The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online

branch from the fire, took a deep pull, and then handed it to Marks as he exhaled. The two men continued to exchange the joint and after his fourth lungful Marks began to feel a little light-headed. The two men sat in silence, enjoying the dope. Marks always felt as if he got a better hit when smoking outdoors, or maybe it was just that Horvitz was growing a better strain of marijuana plant.
    “When is the next trip?” asked Horvitz eventually.
    “Couple of weeks,” said Marks. “They’re going quite regularly these days, though. If you miss that one, I can get you on another. And like I told you before, I can put anything you want into storage while you’re away.”
    “Haven’t got much here,” said Horvitz. “One rucksack full of stuff, the rest I got from the forest.”
    “Whatever,” said Marks. “I can take care of it for you, and if you decide you want to come back here afterwards, I’ll drive you.”
    Horvitz ran his hand through his rough beard. “I haven’t any money at all, you know that?”
    “It won’t cost a thing, Eric. Everything’s paid for, and we’ll give you money to spend. Not much, but enough to get by.” He sensed that Horvitz had finally decided to go.
    “I haven’t got a passport,” said Horvitz. “I threw my old one away once I crossed the border. It’d be out of date, anyway.”
    Marks reached for his haversack and opened it. “I’ve got the papers right here,” he said. “I’ll pick up a copy of your birth certificate for you.” He took a Polaroid camera out of the haversack. “And I can take photographs right here.”
    “Hell, Dick. Did you know I’d say yes?”
    Marks grinned. “I’d love to say that was so, Eric, but I’ve had this with me for the last three visits. Does that mean you’ll go?”
    Horvitz got to his feet and scraped the remains of his stew into the fire where it sizzled and spluttered. He looked over at Marks and nodded. “Shit, okay. What the fuck have I got to lose, hey?”
    Marks helped Horvitz fill in the application form and took half a dozen Polaroid shots of him, then said goodbye and walked back to his car. The walk back was easier because most of the route was downhill, but it took him longer to cover the distance because of the dope he’d smoked. He eventually emerged from the trees a couple of hundred yards to the rear of the Jeep.
    He opened the passenger door, threw the haversack into the back, and climbed in.
    “How did it go?” asked the man with the military-looking haircut sitting in the driver’s seat.
    “Perfect,” said Marks. “He’s agreed. I’ll get the passport fixed up and I’ve arranged to pick him up here in ten days to get some new clothes, a suitcase, stuff like that.”
    The man nodded and handed over a bulging, white envelope. “Here’s another 5,000,” he said. “I’ll give you the rest when Horvitz is on the plane.”
    Marks took the money as the man started the Jeep and drove down the road. He didn’t know why the man he knew as Joel Tyler was so keen to see Eric Horvitz back in Vietnam, but the amount of money he was paying was more than enough to stifle his curiosity.
     
    It was getting hot in the boiler room, really hot, which was just the way Dan Lehman liked it. When the atmosphere heated up the adrenaline flowed, everyone worked that much harder and they could all feed off each other’s excitement. It was a buzz that almost came close to the rush he got from cocaine. Almost. He took a pull from his can of Diet Coke and leant back in his black leather swivel chair and surveyed the room. There were two ranks of desks facing each other across the room, ten on each side, linked at one end by two long tables so that a huge U shape was created which filled most of the floor space. Each of the desks had two telephones and a console on which flashing lights indicated calls coming in and steady red lights showed which lines were in use.
    All the desks were manned: mostly by men but in two of