Read Online Assumed Identity (1993) by David Morrell - Free Book Online

on Buchanan's left.
    'And they cannot see my pistol. I have covered it with my jacket. But be assured I am aiming it at your spine,' the bodyguard said behind Buchanan.
    'Hey, let's lighten up, okay? I'm missing something here. Why all this talk about shooting?' Buchanan asked. 'I wish the three of you would relax and tell me what's going on. I came to you in good faith. I wasn't armed. I'm not a threat to you. But all of a sudden, you-'
    'Shut up while we pass the people in the bar,' the first twin murmured in Spanish.
    'Or the next words you speak will be your last,' the second twin said. 'Entiende? Understand?'
    'Your logic is overwhelming,' Buchanan said.
    A few tourists glanced up from their margaritas as Buchanan and the others walked by. Then one of the tourists finished telling a joke, and everybody at that table laughed.
    The nearby outburst in reaction to the joke was so loud and unexpected that it made the twins flinch and jerk their heads toward the noise. Presumably the bodyguard was also surprised. There wasn't any way for Buchanan to know for certain. Still, the odds were in his favor. He could have done it then. He could have taken advantage of the distraction, smashed the side of his hands against the larynx of each twin, kicked backward with his left foot angled sideways to break the bodyguard's knee, and spun to snap the wrist that held the Beretta. He could have done all that in less than two seconds. The light from the bar made him able to see clearly enough that he wouldn't have had to worry about the accuracy of his blows. The agonizing damage to the throats of the twins would have prevented them from breathing. In their panic to fill their lungs with air, they would not have had time to think about shooting Buchanan, not before he'd finished the bodyguard and swung back to finish them. That would have taken another second or two. All told, four seconds, max, and Buchanan would have been safe.
    But as confident as he was of success, Buchanan didn't do it. Because his safety wasn't the point. If all he cared about was his safety, he wouldn't have accepted this mission in the first place. The mission. That was the point. As the laughter of the tourists subsided, as the twins and their bodyguard regained their discipline, as Buchanan and his captors finished passing the bar and reached the murky beach, Buchanan told himself, How would you have explained it to your superiors? I can imagine the expression on their faces if you told them the mission failed because you got so nervous you killed your contacts. Your career would be over. This isn't the first time someone's aimed a pistol at you. You know damned well that on this assignment it would have happened sooner or later. These guys aren't dummies. Plus, they'll never trust you until they learn if you can handle stress. So let them find out. Be cool. Play out the role.
    But what would Ed Potter do? Buchanan wondered. Wouldn't a corrupt ex-DEA officer try to escape if he thought the drug distributors from whom he was taking business had decided that killing him was less risky and less trouble than becoming partners with him?
    Maybe, Buchanan thought. Ed Potter might try to run. After all, he isn't me. He doesn't have my training. But if I behave the way Ed Potter truly would, there's a good chance I'll get myself killed. I've got to modify the character. Right now, my audience is testing me for weakness.
    But by God, they won't find any.
    Club International had a sidewalk that ran parallel to the beach. The stars were brilliant, although the moon had not yet risen. A cool breeze came off the ocean out of the darkness. Hearing the distant echo of more laughter from the bar, which was shielded from him by a row of tall shrubs and a waist-high wall, Buchanan paused at the edge of the sidewalk.
    'All right,' he said. 'Here's the beach. It's nice. Real nice. Now would you put those guns away and tell me what in God's name this is all about? I haven't done