Read Online Assignment Unicorn by Edward S. Aarons - Free Book Online
Authors: Edward S. Aarons
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up over the rail. The man named Wolfe just
kept watching Durell with a steady, dark stare.
Andrews was a Foreign Service man attached to the American
Embassy, and Durell did not pay much attention to him. Wolfe was another
matter, with his steady, unwinking stare. He was a big man, burly in the
shoulders, and under his salt-and-pepper suit, Durell suspected solid muscles
and any amount of weaponry. Wolfe was Meecham’s man. His pale-gray eyes seemed
to be taking Durell apart piece by piece, with unwarranted hostility, and
Durell finally said, “What’s the matter with him John?”
Meecham said, “Wolfe is taking Charley Lee’s place. Why did
you do that to Lee, Sam?”
“He was your man, wasn’t he?”
“You must have known that.”
“Well, I didn’t want him around anymore.”
“You didn’t have to batter him that way,” Meecham grunted.
“He won’t be useful for two more weeks.”
Wolfe said, “Don’t try that on me, Durell.”
“I don‘t want you around, either,” Durell said.
Meecham said, “It’s something we can‘t do anything about,
Cajun. You have to take him.”
“Only if he stays out of my sight,” Durell said.
Wolfe said, “I won’t get in your way, but I’ll be around when you need me. Because you’re going
to need me. You can count on it.” He had a deep gravelly voice and his nose had
been broken more than once. So someone had put a fist to him at least one
time. He went on flatly, “It’s not the job I asked for, but I’ve got my
orders from Mr. Meecham, no matter what you say, and I’m not responsible to you
and I don’t take any shit from you, either. You’re going to stay alive, as long
as you’re in this for the General, and I’m going to see to it that you do.”
Durell said, “Your concern is not very touching.”
“Fuck you.”
Durell turned to Meecham. “Can we talk somewhere? Alone?”
Meecham looked at his cigar. “We’ll go to Parigi’s trattoria . All right? Let’s get out of this rain. Mr.
Andrews? Abner? Can you make it back to the Embassy okay?”
“Yes,” Andrews said.
“Wolfe?”
The big man stared at Durell. “I’ll be out of sight.
But not far away, sir.”
Meecham transferred his cigar to his left hand and dug into
his raincoat pocket. “This is for you, Cajun. One of the assassins at the
airport lost it.”
Meecham handed Durell a rather large gold coin, with a small
hole drilled close to the outer rim, as if for a chain. The coin was very old
and worn. Durell looked at it closely. It was an old Scottish gold piece, and
he would have placed its date, although it had no date on it, at about the
sixteenth century. It carried the Scottish coat of arms on one face.
A unicorn.
16
WOLFE sat near the door of the trattoria , his heavy frame
slumped, only his eyes alert on the street outside, with its sheets of sullen
rain spattering on the blackened cobblestones. Then his glance swung to survey
the few other patrons and the back door to the kitchen.
Meecham and Durell sat at a corner table, their backs to the ocherous -yellow wall, where ancient posters pasted to
the plaster were peeling back and down. The Frascati wine was untouched on the table between them.
“Sir, may I ask a question?” Durell said.
“All you like, Sam.”
Durell said, “All right, then. What are you doing in Rome in
the first place? You didn’t fly in on the TWA plane, did you?”
“No. Wolfe and I were on the observation deck watching the
plane’s arrival. We saw it all. From a distance, of course. Nothing we could do
about it.”
“You flew in earlier, then?”
“The previous scheduled flight.” Meecham’s wide mouth twitched;
it might have been a smile. “I know what you’re getting at. In your report from
Singapore on Hugh Donaldson’s murder—for General McFee’s eyes only, but I got a
copy—when you left Palingpon, you implied a theory that these attacks were
basically aimed at K Section money transfers, They’re all
kept watching Durell with a steady, dark stare.
Andrews was a Foreign Service man attached to the American
Embassy, and Durell did not pay much attention to him. Wolfe was another
matter, with his steady, unwinking stare. He was a big man, burly in the
shoulders, and under his salt-and-pepper suit, Durell suspected solid muscles
and any amount of weaponry. Wolfe was Meecham’s man. His pale-gray eyes seemed
to be taking Durell apart piece by piece, with unwarranted hostility, and
Durell finally said, “What’s the matter with him John?”
Meecham said, “Wolfe is taking Charley Lee’s place. Why did
you do that to Lee, Sam?”
“He was your man, wasn’t he?”
“You must have known that.”
“Well, I didn’t want him around anymore.”
“You didn’t have to batter him that way,” Meecham grunted.
“He won’t be useful for two more weeks.”
Wolfe said, “Don’t try that on me, Durell.”
“I don‘t want you around, either,” Durell said.
Meecham said, “It’s something we can‘t do anything about,
Cajun. You have to take him.”
“Only if he stays out of my sight,” Durell said.
Wolfe said, “I won’t get in your way, but I’ll be around when you need me. Because you’re going
to need me. You can count on it.” He had a deep gravelly voice and his nose had
been broken more than once. So someone had put a fist to him at least one
time. He went on flatly, “It’s not the job I asked for, but I’ve got my
orders from Mr. Meecham, no matter what you say, and I’m not responsible to you
and I don’t take any shit from you, either. You’re going to stay alive, as long
as you’re in this for the General, and I’m going to see to it that you do.”
Durell said, “Your concern is not very touching.”
“Fuck you.”
Durell turned to Meecham. “Can we talk somewhere? Alone?”
Meecham looked at his cigar. “We’ll go to Parigi’s trattoria . All right? Let’s get out of this rain. Mr.
Andrews? Abner? Can you make it back to the Embassy okay?”
“Yes,” Andrews said.
“Wolfe?”
The big man stared at Durell. “I’ll be out of sight.
But not far away, sir.”
Meecham transferred his cigar to his left hand and dug into
his raincoat pocket. “This is for you, Cajun. One of the assassins at the
airport lost it.”
Meecham handed Durell a rather large gold coin, with a small
hole drilled close to the outer rim, as if for a chain. The coin was very old
and worn. Durell looked at it closely. It was an old Scottish gold piece, and
he would have placed its date, although it had no date on it, at about the
sixteenth century. It carried the Scottish coat of arms on one face.
A unicorn.
16
WOLFE sat near the door of the trattoria , his heavy frame
slumped, only his eyes alert on the street outside, with its sheets of sullen
rain spattering on the blackened cobblestones. Then his glance swung to survey
the few other patrons and the back door to the kitchen.
Meecham and Durell sat at a corner table, their backs to the ocherous -yellow wall, where ancient posters pasted to
the plaster were peeling back and down. The Frascati wine was untouched on the table between them.
“Sir, may I ask a question?” Durell said.
“All you like, Sam.”
Durell said, “All right, then. What are you doing in Rome in
the first place? You didn’t fly in on the TWA plane, did you?”
“No. Wolfe and I were on the observation deck watching the
plane’s arrival. We saw it all. From a distance, of course. Nothing we could do
about it.”
“You flew in earlier, then?”
“The previous scheduled flight.” Meecham’s wide mouth twitched;
it might have been a smile. “I know what you’re getting at. In your report from
Singapore on Hugh Donaldson’s murder—for General McFee’s eyes only, but I got a
copy—when you left Palingpon, you implied a theory that these attacks were
basically aimed at K Section money transfers, They’re all
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