Read Online Hitman: Enemy Within by William C. Dietz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William C. Dietz
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Action, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction And Fantasy, Science Fiction - Adventure
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she would have preferred. Still, having been gifted with a straight nose, high cheekbones, and sensual lips, her face would have been considered beautiful had it not been for a certain hardness that was resident there.
“Say again,” she said, as static rattled in her earphones. “You’re breaking up.”
“I have a message for Mr. Nu,” Agent 47 replied. “Tell him I made contact with Marla Norton. And although I wasn’t able to pry any information out of her, she’s on the run. I placed micro-trackers in both her raincoat and her purse. With any luck at all, she’ll lead us up the food chain, and to the person who has the answers we’re looking for.”
Diana glanced at one of the monitors to her right. Mr. Nu was taking part in a board meeting inHouston , where shipping magnate Aristotle Thorakis was halfway through a report.
“I’ll tell him,” the controller promised. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” 47 promised, and he returned the phone to his pocket.
That was when the crackling flames found the explosives that Marla Norton kept hidden in the crawl space above her living room, and the houseboat exploded.
There was a loud boom, followed by a spectacular fireworks display as chunks of fiery debris flew up into the gray sky and rained down onto the surface of the lake, where they made a hissing sound before bobbing on the surface. Mrs. Beasley’s home was largely untouched, except for her geraniums, which were destroyed when a piece of wreckage fell on them.
The oarlocks creaked as the assassin pulled away. More sirens joined the already strident chorus, and the rain fell gently around him.
Chapter Five
NEW YORK,NEW YORK
The more than 7,000-square-foot suite took up the entire 16th floor of the Hotel France and had a sweeping view ofCentral Park . The reception area was dominated by a huge stained-glass window and the walls were covered with hand-painted depictions of the French countryside. All of which was quite familiar to Aristotle Thorakis, as he and his family had spent the Christmas holidays in the hotel just two years before, back when the $15,000-per-night price tag seemed reasonable. But even with the 500-million-euro loan from the Puissance Treize in his pocket, equaling nearly 700
million U.S. dollars, the businessman was struggling to keep his shipping empire afloat, and he had come to view such expenditures as an indulgence.Especially when perfectly good accommodations could be had for $5,000 a night.
The cost of the suite included the services of a very proper English butler who was present to greet Thorakis as he stepped off the elevator. The man’s hair was combed straight back, his long face was solemn, and the immaculate business suit fit his body to a tee. Judging from the way he greeted the shipping magnate, he was blessed with an excellent memory—or a very good set of files.
“Good afternoon, sir. Welcome back,” he said smoothly. “My name is Bradley. Mr. Douay has asked me to direct you to the sitting room.”
“Thank you,” Thorakis said brusquely. “I know the way.”
The formal reception area gave way to a hall that led past a formal bar, then a richly paneled dining room, into the large sitting area beyond. Picture windows opened out onto the park, a grand piano stood next to a tiny dance floor, and pieces of formal furniture were grouped to form discrete conversation areas, one of which was occupied by a pair of nattily dressed bodyguards. Both held magazines, but kept their eyes fixed on Thorakis.
Douaywas seated behind a handsome replica of a French provincial desk. He was talking on the phone, and nodded as Thorakis dropped into one of the upholstered chairs that faced him. The Greek couldn’t help but take note of the fact that the Frenchman allowed what was clearly a routine business conversation to continue for a good five minutes before finally bringing the call to an end. WasDouay sending him a message? Seeking to emphasize the extent to
“Say again,” she said, as static rattled in her earphones. “You’re breaking up.”
“I have a message for Mr. Nu,” Agent 47 replied. “Tell him I made contact with Marla Norton. And although I wasn’t able to pry any information out of her, she’s on the run. I placed micro-trackers in both her raincoat and her purse. With any luck at all, she’ll lead us up the food chain, and to the person who has the answers we’re looking for.”
Diana glanced at one of the monitors to her right. Mr. Nu was taking part in a board meeting inHouston , where shipping magnate Aristotle Thorakis was halfway through a report.
“I’ll tell him,” the controller promised. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” 47 promised, and he returned the phone to his pocket.
That was when the crackling flames found the explosives that Marla Norton kept hidden in the crawl space above her living room, and the houseboat exploded.
There was a loud boom, followed by a spectacular fireworks display as chunks of fiery debris flew up into the gray sky and rained down onto the surface of the lake, where they made a hissing sound before bobbing on the surface. Mrs. Beasley’s home was largely untouched, except for her geraniums, which were destroyed when a piece of wreckage fell on them.
The oarlocks creaked as the assassin pulled away. More sirens joined the already strident chorus, and the rain fell gently around him.
Chapter Five
NEW YORK,NEW YORK
The more than 7,000-square-foot suite took up the entire 16th floor of the Hotel France and had a sweeping view ofCentral Park . The reception area was dominated by a huge stained-glass window and the walls were covered with hand-painted depictions of the French countryside. All of which was quite familiar to Aristotle Thorakis, as he and his family had spent the Christmas holidays in the hotel just two years before, back when the $15,000-per-night price tag seemed reasonable. But even with the 500-million-euro loan from the Puissance Treize in his pocket, equaling nearly 700
million U.S. dollars, the businessman was struggling to keep his shipping empire afloat, and he had come to view such expenditures as an indulgence.Especially when perfectly good accommodations could be had for $5,000 a night.
The cost of the suite included the services of a very proper English butler who was present to greet Thorakis as he stepped off the elevator. The man’s hair was combed straight back, his long face was solemn, and the immaculate business suit fit his body to a tee. Judging from the way he greeted the shipping magnate, he was blessed with an excellent memory—or a very good set of files.
“Good afternoon, sir. Welcome back,” he said smoothly. “My name is Bradley. Mr. Douay has asked me to direct you to the sitting room.”
“Thank you,” Thorakis said brusquely. “I know the way.”
The formal reception area gave way to a hall that led past a formal bar, then a richly paneled dining room, into the large sitting area beyond. Picture windows opened out onto the park, a grand piano stood next to a tiny dance floor, and pieces of formal furniture were grouped to form discrete conversation areas, one of which was occupied by a pair of nattily dressed bodyguards. Both held magazines, but kept their eyes fixed on Thorakis.
Douaywas seated behind a handsome replica of a French provincial desk. He was talking on the phone, and nodded as Thorakis dropped into one of the upholstered chairs that faced him. The Greek couldn’t help but take note of the fact that the Frenchman allowed what was clearly a routine business conversation to continue for a good five minutes before finally bringing the call to an end. WasDouay sending him a message? Seeking to emphasize the extent to
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