Three Classic Thrillers by John Grisham Read Free Book Online Page B

know they talked about the wiretaps. They’re convinced everything is bugged, and they suspect us. They’re very careful where they talk.”
    “Why would the FBI bother with a search warrant?”
    “Good question. Probably for our benefit. To make things look real legal and proper. They respect us.”
    “Which agent?”
    “Tarrance. He’s in charge, evidently.”
    “Is he good?”
    “He’s okay. Young, green, overzealous, but competent. He’s no match for our men.”
    “How often has he talked to Kozinski?”
    “There’s no way to know. They figure we’re listening, so everybody’s real careful. We know of four meetings in the last month, but I suspect more.”
    “How much has he spilled?”
    “Not much, I hope. They’re still shadowboxing. The last conversation we got was a week ago and he didn’t say much. He’s bad scared. They’re coaxing a lot, but not getting much. He hasn’t yet made the decision to cooperate. They approached him, remember. At least we think they approached him. They shook him up pretty bad and he was ready to cut a deal. Now he’s having second thoughts. But he’s still in contact with them, and that’s what worries me.”
    “Does his wife know?”
    “I don’t think so. She knows he’s acting strange, and he tells her it’s office pressure.”
    “What about Hodge?”
    “Still ain’t talked to the Fibbies, as far as we know. He and Kozinski talk a lot, or whisper, I should say. Hodge keeps saying he’s scared to death of theFBI, that they don’t play fair and they cheat and play dirty. He won’t move without Kozinski.”
    “What if Kozinski is eliminated?”
    “Hodge will be a new man. But I don’t think we’ve reached that point. Dammit, Ollie, he ain’t some hotshot thug who gets in the way. He’s a very nice young man, with kids and all that.”
    “Your compassion is overwhelming. I guess you think I enjoy this. Hell, I practically raised these boys.”
    “Well, get them back in line, then, before this thing goes too far. New York’s getting suspicious, Ollie. They’re asking a lot of questions.”
    “Who?”
    “Lazarov.”
    “What have you told them, DeVasher?”
    “Everything. That’s my job. They want you in New York day after tomorrow, for a full briefing.”
    “What do they want?”
    “Answers. And plans.”
    “Plans for what?”
    “Preliminary plans to eliminate Kozinski, Hodge and Tarrance, should it become necessary.”
    “Tarrance! Are you crazy, DeVasher? We can’t eliminate a cop. They’ll send in the troops.”
    “Lazarov is stupid, Ollie. You know that. He’s an idiot, but I don’t think we should tell him.”
    “I think I will. I think I’ll go to New York and tell Lazarov he’s a complete fool.”
    “You do that, Ollie. You do that.”
    Oliver Lambert jumped from his seat and headed for the door. “Watch McDeere for another month.”
    “Sure, Ollie. You betcha. He’ll sign. Don’t worry.”

    4    
    T he Mazda was sold for two hundred dollars, and most of the money was immediately invested in a twelve-foot U-Haul rental truck. He would be reimbursed in Memphis. Half of the odd assortment of furniture was given or thrown away, and when loaded the truck held a refrigerator, a bed, a dresser and chest of drawers, a small color television, boxes of dishes, clothes and junk and an old sofa which was taken out of sentiment and would not last long in the new location.
    Abby held Hearsay, the mutt, as Mitch worked his way through Boston and headed south, far south toward the promise of better things. For three days they drove the back roads, enjoyed the countryside, sang along with the radio, slept in cheap motels and talked of the house, the BMW, new furniture, children, affluence. They rolled down the windows and let the wind blow as the truck approached top speeds of almost forty-five miles per hour. At one point, somewhere in Pennsylvania, Abby mentioned that perhaps they could stop in Kentucky for a brief