Read Online A Bridge to Treachery From Extortion to Terror by Larry Crane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Larry Crane
Tags: Espionage, Military, Revenge, Politics, Terrorism, Betrayal, Army, Army Ranger, strike team, collateral damage
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it. About too much luck, too much happiness.”
“When it goes, it goes. Meanwhile...Okay, I know there’s some mistake. I could track it down, but I don’t want to find out that I’m right,” he said, moving back onto the highway.
“Did you do anything so bad that you couldn’t tell me about it? Screw someone to get it?”
“I didn’t do anything, period.”
“Any chance you’re going to have to pay it back?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but we have two choices, and I say we spend it.”
“Pack up all your cares and woes,” Maggie sang softly, watching the road and Lou out the corner of her eye.
Chapter Seven
“We’d better find the place,” Maggie said, as the shadows of the forest deepened.
“It’s bound to be right here,” he said.
They saw the sign first, LAKESIDE INN, and then they spotted it through the trees: a low building with screened verandas all across the front and a circular driveway.
“You take care of the room,” Mag said, “and I’ll just mosey over here across the road. There’s an antique place stuck back in there somewhere. I saw the sign.”
Theirs was a single unit on the corner facing the lake. He brought their suitcase in and looked out the window at the orange planks of sunlight glancing low through the pines across the water. He plunked the suitcase onto the bed and hurried to catch up with Mag.
He stepped off the veranda and walked quickly toward the parking lot. At the near end, across the lot from the Subaru, he saw a dark Audi parked in the shadows. Someone was sitting in the front seat, hidden behind a newspaper. As Lou approached, the paper came down and he locked eyes with a sharp-faced young man who quickly dropped his eyes and ducked behind the funnies again.
Lou went on, but at the end of the lot, where the narrow path led out to the road, he suddenly stopped and turned to look at the Audi and caught the man’s eye again.
He found the antique shop easily enough, just a couple of hundred feet down the road. As he approached, he could see Mag and an old man out front with a Windsor chair, Mag walking round and round it, elbow in one hand, chin in the other.
“He says he brought it out of his own house after keeping it for fifteen years.”
“Uh huh,” Lou said.
“It’s good. The chair, not the story,” she said.
“How much?”
“How old do you think it is, Mr. Herman? Oh, forgive me. This is my husband, Lou.” The old man shook two heavy jerks on Lou’s hand.
“This is an oldie. I’d keep it myself but I can’t keep everything. Look at all those spindles! And see the stretchers down there? Run your fingers over ’em, feel how they’re worn. Some kid a long time ago hooked his heels on ’em.”
“Tell him about the patina,” Mag said.
“Tell me about the bad news,” Lou countered.
“He’s asking seven hundred.”
“What does your book say?”
“There have been a bunch of good, bow-back armchairs listed for over that.”
“Then we’ll get it. In fact, we’ll take two of them. Why do I think you might have another one of these back there somewhere that you’ve been agonizing over, Mr...?”
“Herman,” Mag said. “No, no. One’s enough.”
“Do you like the chair or don’t you?” Lou asked.
“You know I like it. That doesn’t mean...”
“Then we’ll get it and we’ll get another just like it. Fact is, we’ll take four of them. I presume they match.”
“We’ll take this one, Mr. Herman. I hope you’ll take a credit card.”
“I want to see what else Mr. Herman has,” Lou said. “C’mon, loosen up.”
“Hold it for us, Mr. Herman. We’ll be back for it after dinner,” Mag said, pulling Lou’s arm until he relented and they tripped over the sandy soil back toward the inn. At the front desk, the clerk handed Lou a message from Sherm:
Dear
“When it goes, it goes. Meanwhile...Okay, I know there’s some mistake. I could track it down, but I don’t want to find out that I’m right,” he said, moving back onto the highway.
“Did you do anything so bad that you couldn’t tell me about it? Screw someone to get it?”
“I didn’t do anything, period.”
“Any chance you’re going to have to pay it back?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but we have two choices, and I say we spend it.”
“Pack up all your cares and woes,” Maggie sang softly, watching the road and Lou out the corner of her eye.
Chapter Seven
“We’d better find the place,” Maggie said, as the shadows of the forest deepened.
“It’s bound to be right here,” he said.
They saw the sign first, LAKESIDE INN, and then they spotted it through the trees: a low building with screened verandas all across the front and a circular driveway.
“You take care of the room,” Mag said, “and I’ll just mosey over here across the road. There’s an antique place stuck back in there somewhere. I saw the sign.”
Theirs was a single unit on the corner facing the lake. He brought their suitcase in and looked out the window at the orange planks of sunlight glancing low through the pines across the water. He plunked the suitcase onto the bed and hurried to catch up with Mag.
He stepped off the veranda and walked quickly toward the parking lot. At the near end, across the lot from the Subaru, he saw a dark Audi parked in the shadows. Someone was sitting in the front seat, hidden behind a newspaper. As Lou approached, the paper came down and he locked eyes with a sharp-faced young man who quickly dropped his eyes and ducked behind the funnies again.
Lou went on, but at the end of the lot, where the narrow path led out to the road, he suddenly stopped and turned to look at the Audi and caught the man’s eye again.
He found the antique shop easily enough, just a couple of hundred feet down the road. As he approached, he could see Mag and an old man out front with a Windsor chair, Mag walking round and round it, elbow in one hand, chin in the other.
“He says he brought it out of his own house after keeping it for fifteen years.”
“Uh huh,” Lou said.
“It’s good. The chair, not the story,” she said.
“How much?”
“How old do you think it is, Mr. Herman? Oh, forgive me. This is my husband, Lou.” The old man shook two heavy jerks on Lou’s hand.
“This is an oldie. I’d keep it myself but I can’t keep everything. Look at all those spindles! And see the stretchers down there? Run your fingers over ’em, feel how they’re worn. Some kid a long time ago hooked his heels on ’em.”
“Tell him about the patina,” Mag said.
“Tell me about the bad news,” Lou countered.
“He’s asking seven hundred.”
“What does your book say?”
“There have been a bunch of good, bow-back armchairs listed for over that.”
“Then we’ll get it. In fact, we’ll take two of them. Why do I think you might have another one of these back there somewhere that you’ve been agonizing over, Mr...?”
“Herman,” Mag said. “No, no. One’s enough.”
“Do you like the chair or don’t you?” Lou asked.
“You know I like it. That doesn’t mean...”
“Then we’ll get it and we’ll get another just like it. Fact is, we’ll take four of them. I presume they match.”
“We’ll take this one, Mr. Herman. I hope you’ll take a credit card.”
“I want to see what else Mr. Herman has,” Lou said. “C’mon, loosen up.”
“Hold it for us, Mr. Herman. We’ll be back for it after dinner,” Mag said, pulling Lou’s arm until he relented and they tripped over the sandy soil back toward the inn. At the front desk, the clerk handed Lou a message from Sherm:
Dear
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