Read Online Greene's Calling: Seventeen Book Three (A Supernatural Action Adventure Thriller Series 3) by AD Starrling - Free Book Online
Authors: AD Starrling
Ads: Link
eyebrow. ‘Why?’
The cabbie gave him an incredulous look via the mirror. ‘Bro, where you been? It’s Columbus Day weekend. Most of downtown is still in lockdown.’
Conrad sat back in the seat. Lines puckered his brow as he contemplated the speeding motorway traffic and tower blocks dotting the landscape outside the window. He had not realized it was a federal holiday in the States. Survival in the rainforest did not exactly require a personal organizer. Although he was aware of the change of the seasons and important days like Christmas and New Year, he had not kept a calendar since he started living in the jungle more than half a century ago.
He recalled first seeing the Columbus Memorial Fountain outside Union Station in Washington a few years after it was erected. Twelve months later, he was on the Western Front in Europe, part of a five-thousand-strong regiment of Bastian immortals who joined the Allied Forces in their efforts to defeat the Germans and their associates in the First World War.
Conrad had never attended the Columbus Day celebrations in D.C. or any other city. From the stories related to him by his father and other older immortals, Christopher Columbus had not exactly been a saint.
It wasn’t until they entered Arlington that blue and white bunting, interspersed with the star-spangled banner, started to appear on the roads. The national flag was up atop every government building they drove past.
The taxi got him as far as Farragut Square before traffic ground to a halt. Conrad got the cabbie to pull over, took the HK P8 semiautomatic and the gilded staff out of the luggage, and gifted the cases and the golf bag to the bemused taxi driver. He walked the rest of the way to H Street NW.
Despite the day’s festivities being concentrated near Pennsylvania and Constitution Avenue, it was still slow going. Street stands and temporary food pavilions had been set up on the sidewalks, and although it was too early for the crowds that would soon flock to the downtown area, there were plenty of people around.
By the time he reached a Starbucks some three hundred feet from the intersection of H Street NW and 10th Street NW, the temperature was nearing seventy degrees. Sweat dampened the back of his shirt, inches above the gun and staff weapon tucked inside his waistband. He went inside the coffeehouse, ordered an ice-cold drink, and took a seat near the window. He removed the prepaid cell from his pocket and stared at it for some time. He finally dialed the number Anatole had given to Gordian.
It rang three times before someone answered.
‘Hartwell here,’ said a female voice briskly. ‘Who is this?’
Although Conrad had been mentally preparing himself for this moment from the second he saw her photograph inside the dead man’s briefcase in Alvarães, his heart still stuttered painfully inside his chest at the sound of his soulmate’s voice. The old, familiar rush of bittersweet emotions rose to the surface of his mind, threatening to drown him. His fingers clenched around the cell phone.
A pair of college students sat down in the booth in front of him. One of them bobbed his head at what his friend was saying and took an iPad out of his satchel.
‘Hello? Is someone there?’ snapped Laura Hartwell at the other end of the line. A low hubbub of conversation rose in the background behind her.
Conrad blinked and lowered his head. ‘It’s me,’ he said quietly, cradling the phone close to his face. He was surprised at how composed his voice sounded.
He heard her inhale sharply. Frozen silence rose from the earpiece.
‘What do you want?’ Laura said finally.
Conrad looked out of the window at the heavy traffic clogging the avenue and steadied his nerves.
‘Two days ago, a private plane crashed near my place in Brazil,’ he said in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘Both the pilot and the passenger died on impact. I found a briefcase in the debris. Inside it was a gun and an envelope containing
The cabbie gave him an incredulous look via the mirror. ‘Bro, where you been? It’s Columbus Day weekend. Most of downtown is still in lockdown.’
Conrad sat back in the seat. Lines puckered his brow as he contemplated the speeding motorway traffic and tower blocks dotting the landscape outside the window. He had not realized it was a federal holiday in the States. Survival in the rainforest did not exactly require a personal organizer. Although he was aware of the change of the seasons and important days like Christmas and New Year, he had not kept a calendar since he started living in the jungle more than half a century ago.
He recalled first seeing the Columbus Memorial Fountain outside Union Station in Washington a few years after it was erected. Twelve months later, he was on the Western Front in Europe, part of a five-thousand-strong regiment of Bastian immortals who joined the Allied Forces in their efforts to defeat the Germans and their associates in the First World War.
Conrad had never attended the Columbus Day celebrations in D.C. or any other city. From the stories related to him by his father and other older immortals, Christopher Columbus had not exactly been a saint.
It wasn’t until they entered Arlington that blue and white bunting, interspersed with the star-spangled banner, started to appear on the roads. The national flag was up atop every government building they drove past.
The taxi got him as far as Farragut Square before traffic ground to a halt. Conrad got the cabbie to pull over, took the HK P8 semiautomatic and the gilded staff out of the luggage, and gifted the cases and the golf bag to the bemused taxi driver. He walked the rest of the way to H Street NW.
Despite the day’s festivities being concentrated near Pennsylvania and Constitution Avenue, it was still slow going. Street stands and temporary food pavilions had been set up on the sidewalks, and although it was too early for the crowds that would soon flock to the downtown area, there were plenty of people around.
By the time he reached a Starbucks some three hundred feet from the intersection of H Street NW and 10th Street NW, the temperature was nearing seventy degrees. Sweat dampened the back of his shirt, inches above the gun and staff weapon tucked inside his waistband. He went inside the coffeehouse, ordered an ice-cold drink, and took a seat near the window. He removed the prepaid cell from his pocket and stared at it for some time. He finally dialed the number Anatole had given to Gordian.
It rang three times before someone answered.
‘Hartwell here,’ said a female voice briskly. ‘Who is this?’
Although Conrad had been mentally preparing himself for this moment from the second he saw her photograph inside the dead man’s briefcase in Alvarães, his heart still stuttered painfully inside his chest at the sound of his soulmate’s voice. The old, familiar rush of bittersweet emotions rose to the surface of his mind, threatening to drown him. His fingers clenched around the cell phone.
A pair of college students sat down in the booth in front of him. One of them bobbed his head at what his friend was saying and took an iPad out of his satchel.
‘Hello? Is someone there?’ snapped Laura Hartwell at the other end of the line. A low hubbub of conversation rose in the background behind her.
Conrad blinked and lowered his head. ‘It’s me,’ he said quietly, cradling the phone close to his face. He was surprised at how composed his voice sounded.
He heard her inhale sharply. Frozen silence rose from the earpiece.
‘What do you want?’ Laura said finally.
Conrad looked out of the window at the heavy traffic clogging the avenue and steadied his nerves.
‘Two days ago, a private plane crashed near my place in Brazil,’ he said in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘Both the pilot and the passenger died on impact. I found a briefcase in the debris. Inside it was a gun and an envelope containing
Similar Books
