Read Online Girl of Vengeance by Charles Sheehan-Miles - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Sheehan-Miles
Ads: Link
with rounded cheeks and a prodigious belly, was a caricature of his former self.
Richard weighed no more than he had when the two men met in 1983, and he took Roshan’s weight gain as a lack of self-discipline.
Of course, that wasn’t the only sign of a lack of discipline. The endless parade of call girls was another, as was Roshan’s DUI two years ago. Roshan had been behind the wheel, careening through downtown drunk when he drove his Maserati through the front windows of an old townhouse on 16 th Street. The State Department had to go to considerable effort and expense to cover the incident up, and to bribe both the appropriate officials and the elderly widow who owned the house.
However, right now, Roshan looked fine, besides the bloodshot eyes. “How are you, Richard?”
“Good, good!” The two shook hands, then Roshan took his shoulders and grinned. “Come in, please.”
Moments later, Roshan served Richard a gin and tonic without asking what he preferred, pouring the gin from a bottle of Hendricks. Richard sipped. Roshan had made the drink stiff.
“I hear things are rough for you, my friend,” Roshan said in a sober voice.
Richard nodded. “A little, but not as bad as it appears. May I be frank?”
Roshan nodded.
“Leslie Collins is behind much of it. The financial stuff, the accounts in the Caymans? That’s all his work. No one else it could possibly be.”
Roshan leaned forward and said, “We have several mutual problems. Collins is one, I agree. He’s a loose cannon. But that’s not all. You saw the report in The Guardian? It’s everywhere now. And you’ve been named in it, along with Prince George-Phillip. You understand how wrong this could go. I’d expect your Congress to announce an investigation within a week.”
Richard grimaced. “Already happened. And I bet you can guess who is behind it.”
Roshan rested an index finger against his cheek. “Rainsley?”
Richard nodded. “He wasn’t satisfied with fucking my wife. Now he wants to destroy me. But I’m not going to let that happen.”
“What will you do to prevent it?”
Richard took a sip of his drink. He loved Hendricks gin. In a dry voice, he alluded to his thoughts. “Roshan, you and I both know that we did everything we could to keep Collins under control in Afghanistan. I was as appalled as anybody that he would commit the crimes he did there.”
“Yes, Richard,” Roshan said in as unnatural a tone as Richard had ever heard. “We both felt that way. But how can we prove it?”
“Believe it or not, Collins received an official reprimand. It was classified, of course. But it’s not beyond belief that it would be leaked now, given the circumstances. Possibly to the special prosecutor, which might divert them from me.”
Roshan chuckled. “I’m not surprised you kept some insurance around Collins, Richard. It makes me wonder what you have on me.”
Richard smiled. “I trust you, Roshan.”
Roshan nodded. Richard knew Roshan didn’t believe his polite lie.
“All right, Richard. I will help take care of our mutual friend. You concern yourself with Rainsley and make sure that document gets leaked to the right people.”
Marky Lovecchio. May 5 .
The death metal blasting out of the speakers of Marky Lovecchio’s 2014 Dodge Challenger was loud enough that the rearview mirror vibrated with every thump of the bass drum. He liked the music. It drove out the ugly thoughts, and Marky had plenty of ugly thoughts, whether it was memories of his first enlistment (Somalia) or his last (the Sunni triangle), whether it was his failed marriage or the accountant who had seduced his wife while he was in Iraq. Sometimes his ugly thoughts were of prison, where he’d ended up after he beat said accountant within an inch of his life, then threatened to shoot his wife in the face. It had been ugly there for a few minutes, the standoff with the police, but he finally dropped his weapon. Suicide by cop wasn’t his
Richard weighed no more than he had when the two men met in 1983, and he took Roshan’s weight gain as a lack of self-discipline.
Of course, that wasn’t the only sign of a lack of discipline. The endless parade of call girls was another, as was Roshan’s DUI two years ago. Roshan had been behind the wheel, careening through downtown drunk when he drove his Maserati through the front windows of an old townhouse on 16 th Street. The State Department had to go to considerable effort and expense to cover the incident up, and to bribe both the appropriate officials and the elderly widow who owned the house.
However, right now, Roshan looked fine, besides the bloodshot eyes. “How are you, Richard?”
“Good, good!” The two shook hands, then Roshan took his shoulders and grinned. “Come in, please.”
Moments later, Roshan served Richard a gin and tonic without asking what he preferred, pouring the gin from a bottle of Hendricks. Richard sipped. Roshan had made the drink stiff.
“I hear things are rough for you, my friend,” Roshan said in a sober voice.
Richard nodded. “A little, but not as bad as it appears. May I be frank?”
Roshan nodded.
“Leslie Collins is behind much of it. The financial stuff, the accounts in the Caymans? That’s all his work. No one else it could possibly be.”
Roshan leaned forward and said, “We have several mutual problems. Collins is one, I agree. He’s a loose cannon. But that’s not all. You saw the report in The Guardian? It’s everywhere now. And you’ve been named in it, along with Prince George-Phillip. You understand how wrong this could go. I’d expect your Congress to announce an investigation within a week.”
Richard grimaced. “Already happened. And I bet you can guess who is behind it.”
Roshan rested an index finger against his cheek. “Rainsley?”
Richard nodded. “He wasn’t satisfied with fucking my wife. Now he wants to destroy me. But I’m not going to let that happen.”
“What will you do to prevent it?”
Richard took a sip of his drink. He loved Hendricks gin. In a dry voice, he alluded to his thoughts. “Roshan, you and I both know that we did everything we could to keep Collins under control in Afghanistan. I was as appalled as anybody that he would commit the crimes he did there.”
“Yes, Richard,” Roshan said in as unnatural a tone as Richard had ever heard. “We both felt that way. But how can we prove it?”
“Believe it or not, Collins received an official reprimand. It was classified, of course. But it’s not beyond belief that it would be leaked now, given the circumstances. Possibly to the special prosecutor, which might divert them from me.”
Roshan chuckled. “I’m not surprised you kept some insurance around Collins, Richard. It makes me wonder what you have on me.”
Richard smiled. “I trust you, Roshan.”
Roshan nodded. Richard knew Roshan didn’t believe his polite lie.
“All right, Richard. I will help take care of our mutual friend. You concern yourself with Rainsley and make sure that document gets leaked to the right people.”
Marky Lovecchio. May 5 .
The death metal blasting out of the speakers of Marky Lovecchio’s 2014 Dodge Challenger was loud enough that the rearview mirror vibrated with every thump of the bass drum. He liked the music. It drove out the ugly thoughts, and Marky had plenty of ugly thoughts, whether it was memories of his first enlistment (Somalia) or his last (the Sunni triangle), whether it was his failed marriage or the accountant who had seduced his wife while he was in Iraq. Sometimes his ugly thoughts were of prison, where he’d ended up after he beat said accountant within an inch of his life, then threatened to shoot his wife in the face. It had been ugly there for a few minutes, the standoff with the police, but he finally dropped his weapon. Suicide by cop wasn’t his
Similar Books
