Read Online Dragonfly Bones by David Cole - Free Book Online Page B

Colombia?”
    Galliano shrugged, barely raising his right shoulder an inch and cocking his head slightly the other way.
    â€œFirst I’ll make all our problems go away,” he said. “One at a time.”
    He folded the list, handed her the Cross pen.
    Before he could put the list in a jacket pocket, she grasped his closed fist with both her hands. “It would be foolish to add my name to the bottom of your list.”
    â€œWe’ve done too well, Tamár. And once we’ve both moved on, we’ll do something else even better. For now…one problem at a time.”

laura
    7
    T he chopper circled the Perryville prison complex, but landed at a nearby hospital emergency helipad. Reaching across me, the pilot opened my door, his right hand, palm facing inward, making scooting-out motions. I stepped onto the skid, bent low and duckwaddled beyond the whirling blades, knelt with hands over my ears as the chopper rose with a sudden roar, and darted off into the morning haze.
    Nobody else on the helipad. I waited a few minutes before I got angry enough to head toward the exit stairway, saw an elevator, and jammed my thumb repeatedly on the Down button. The door opened with loud chimes and a tall man strode out, bumping my shoulder before realizing I was there.
    â€œSorry,” he said, stepping sideways, a little bow to acknowledge the bump. “Sorry. Didn’t see you.”
    He tugged his red beret tighter on short black hair. The only people I knew who wore red berets were either military or air marshals. Just what I needed. A U.S. Marshal. I’d had a very bad experience with the last one.
    â€œI’m Nathan Brittles,” he said. “Will you come with me, please?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy am I Nathan Brittles?” he said with a smile. A charmer. But then, I’ve met a lot of charmers, including theones who tried to kill me. “I know, I know. That’s not what you meant. Look. Spend five minutes with me. You’ll understand. Here. This is for you. From Don.”
    He handed me a photo ID badge.
    Â 
    WINSLOW, LAURA NMI
    AQUITEK
    Â 
    â€œThat sounds like a toothpaste,” I said. “You’re kidding me, right? Don Ralph’s business is named after a brand of Mexican toothpaste?”
    Chin tucked to his chest, he studied the ID badge.
    â€œThought it was scuba gear, first time he told me about it.”
    â€œYou got ID?”
    â€œWhy?”
    I fingered the laminated tag hanging from his neck.
    Â 
    BRITTLES, NATHAN C.T.
    US MARSHAL
    Â 
    â€œCuz I could get one of these with my own picture and any name I wanted. Twenty-four hours, maximum wait. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t. I just want to know if you rigged an identity in a hurry and forgot to put something extra in your wallet, like, I might see you’re really somebody else.”
    Without hesitation he reached inside his coat and handed me a battered, stuffed leather billfold. Waited, charm in his smile, but not in his eyes. I quickly rifled through a Texas driver’s license and several credit cards, all for Nathan Brittles. The finger-worn AARP membership card convinced me.
    â€œWhat do those middle initials stand for?”
    â€œCutting Tongue.”
    I took in his barrel chest, slightly flat and elongated nose, his black hair.
    â€œKeep talking,” he said. A smile crinkled his upper lip.
    â€œWhy are you staring at me like that?” I said.
    â€œDon’t know that I’m staring.”
    â€œDon’t want to work with me,” I said. “Worries you, working with a woman. That’s the kind of stare I’m seeing.”
    â€œYou’re the one who seems worried.”
    I was either disgusted with him or angry at myself, I didn’t know which.
    â€œSorry,” I said. “You probably think I’m one of those strong women that are just waiting for you to take me to your home.”
    â€œActually,