Read Online Liars & Thieves by Stephen Coonts - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Coonts
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Mystery & Detective, Espionage, Intelligence Officers, Virginia, Spy fiction; American, Massacres, Suspense stories; American
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FRENCH— whack Chirac!
Thank heavens the wipers worked—the misty drizzle had turned to rain again.
What a crummy day!
Liars And Thieves
CHAPTER SIX
The miles flew by as I zipped north on 1-81. Before I knew it, I was at the turnoff for 1-66, which would take me into Washington’s western suburbs. A few miles later I got off the interstate at the Front Royal exit and went south about a hundred yards to the McDonald’s. There was a pay phone on a low mount beside the parking lot. Although the telephone book attached to it with a woven wire was ripped to shreds, I got a dial tone when I lifted the receiver. I went into the McDonald’s and traded a five-dollar bill for more quarters.
Willie answered on the second ring.
“Hey, pal. It’s me.”
“They were here. Three of them came in about a half hour ago. Said you were wanted on a material witness warrant.”
“FBI?”
“Yeah. They wanted to search, but I wouldn’t let ‘em. They’ll probably be back with a warrant in a little while.”
There was nothing in the shop that I didn’t want the law to see, so that news didn’t worry me.
“What about the woman, Kelly Erlanger?”
“She’s got an unlisted number.” He read me the number and address. “Better hope the car is there. My friend at Lojack is out sick. I called his house, and his old lady says the son of a bitch is shacked up someplace or on a roaring drunk—she hasn’t seen him in two days.”
“How’d you come up with Kelly’s address?”
“Got a friend’s wife who works at the telephone company.”
Willie’s circle of friends and acquaintances never ceased to amaze me. “Where in hell did you meet all these people?”
“I met this woman’s old man in the joint, which is where you’re gonna wind up if you ain’t real careful.”
“I’ve heard that song before. Can even hum it.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re into today, Tommy, but these were heavy federal dudes on a mission, not desk jockeys doin’ some damn background investigation. I figure they’ll have a tap on this line within an hour.”
“Thanks, Willie. I’ll be talking to you.”
Oh, boy. If the FBI was a bit quicker than Willie estimated, they now had Kelly’s number and home address.
I needed money. I figured that the FBI would take a few hours to freeze my bank accounts, so I had better get some walking-around money fast. The convenience store next to McDonald’s had an ATM sign on its pole, so I went in and tagged it for three hundred from my checking account. I also bought a Coke and a bag of jerky.
Rolling toward Washington, I tried to put everything in perspective.
The FBI! How did they get into this mess so quick?
Why did Kelly Erlanger steal my car and jackrabbit?
Who wanted all those people at the safe house dead? Russians, probably. If Erlanger was telling the truth, of course the Russians wanted their ex-archivist dead and the file copies destroyed. But those shooters this morning weren’t Russians—I would bet my life on that.
***
Mikhail Goncharov found the cabin by the river well after sunset, just before the onset of total darkness. He was staggering along beside a creek when he came to the culvert and the road. Beyond the road was a river.
He was desperately cold, his clothes sodden from the rain, so cold he was near the point of collapse.
He wasn’t thinking anymore, just walking, trying to stay upright.
Standing on the road as the last of the twilight faded, he couldn’t even see which way the river was flowing. Didn’t matter, really. Upriver or down, there was really no difference. Without conscious thought he turned right because he was right-handed and walked along the road.
Goncharov hadn’t gone far when he found a road leading off to his right, away from the river. He followed it. A hundred yards along he found a cabin. There were no lights, no car in the parking area.
Summoning the last of his strength, he climbed the three steps to the porch,
Thank heavens the wipers worked—the misty drizzle had turned to rain again.
What a crummy day!
Liars And Thieves
CHAPTER SIX
The miles flew by as I zipped north on 1-81. Before I knew it, I was at the turnoff for 1-66, which would take me into Washington’s western suburbs. A few miles later I got off the interstate at the Front Royal exit and went south about a hundred yards to the McDonald’s. There was a pay phone on a low mount beside the parking lot. Although the telephone book attached to it with a woven wire was ripped to shreds, I got a dial tone when I lifted the receiver. I went into the McDonald’s and traded a five-dollar bill for more quarters.
Willie answered on the second ring.
“Hey, pal. It’s me.”
“They were here. Three of them came in about a half hour ago. Said you were wanted on a material witness warrant.”
“FBI?”
“Yeah. They wanted to search, but I wouldn’t let ‘em. They’ll probably be back with a warrant in a little while.”
There was nothing in the shop that I didn’t want the law to see, so that news didn’t worry me.
“What about the woman, Kelly Erlanger?”
“She’s got an unlisted number.” He read me the number and address. “Better hope the car is there. My friend at Lojack is out sick. I called his house, and his old lady says the son of a bitch is shacked up someplace or on a roaring drunk—she hasn’t seen him in two days.”
“How’d you come up with Kelly’s address?”
“Got a friend’s wife who works at the telephone company.”
Willie’s circle of friends and acquaintances never ceased to amaze me. “Where in hell did you meet all these people?”
“I met this woman’s old man in the joint, which is where you’re gonna wind up if you ain’t real careful.”
“I’ve heard that song before. Can even hum it.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re into today, Tommy, but these were heavy federal dudes on a mission, not desk jockeys doin’ some damn background investigation. I figure they’ll have a tap on this line within an hour.”
“Thanks, Willie. I’ll be talking to you.”
Oh, boy. If the FBI was a bit quicker than Willie estimated, they now had Kelly’s number and home address.
I needed money. I figured that the FBI would take a few hours to freeze my bank accounts, so I had better get some walking-around money fast. The convenience store next to McDonald’s had an ATM sign on its pole, so I went in and tagged it for three hundred from my checking account. I also bought a Coke and a bag of jerky.
Rolling toward Washington, I tried to put everything in perspective.
The FBI! How did they get into this mess so quick?
Why did Kelly Erlanger steal my car and jackrabbit?
Who wanted all those people at the safe house dead? Russians, probably. If Erlanger was telling the truth, of course the Russians wanted their ex-archivist dead and the file copies destroyed. But those shooters this morning weren’t Russians—I would bet my life on that.
***
Mikhail Goncharov found the cabin by the river well after sunset, just before the onset of total darkness. He was staggering along beside a creek when he came to the culvert and the road. Beyond the road was a river.
He was desperately cold, his clothes sodden from the rain, so cold he was near the point of collapse.
He wasn’t thinking anymore, just walking, trying to stay upright.
Standing on the road as the last of the twilight faded, he couldn’t even see which way the river was flowing. Didn’t matter, really. Upriver or down, there was really no difference. Without conscious thought he turned right because he was right-handed and walked along the road.
Goncharov hadn’t gone far when he found a road leading off to his right, away from the river. He followed it. A hundred yards along he found a cabin. There were no lights, no car in the parking area.
Summoning the last of his strength, he climbed the three steps to the porch,
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