Read Online Target Churchill by Warren Adler - Free Book Online

to say.
    â€œYes,” Dimitrov said, certain of what Mueller had in mind. “What is the American expression about a hook?”
    â€œOff the hook,” Mueller said.
    Dimitrov put a hand over his heart.
    â€œWhen the job is successfully achieved, you are, yes, as you say ‘off the hook.’ You have my word.”
    Mueller frowned, telescoping his disbelief.
    â€œI will owe my life to your word? What does that mean?”
    â€œWe will destroy your written confession.”
    The man is not a naïve fool,
Dimitrov thought, considering all the possibilities of an aftermath. For Mueller, he knew, there could be no future.
    â€œSo that is the carrot?”
    â€œI’m sorry, I don’t understand….”
    â€œTo keep me motivated.”
    Dimitrov said, “You will have to trust me, Mueller.”
    â€œDo I have another option?”
    Dimitrov shrugged, smiled, and shook his head from side to side.
    Suddenly, they heard the low hum of an outboard motor. A small rubber boat came into view. Beyond the boat, they could see nothing in the blackness. They moved toward the edge of the beach and Dimitrov took a flashlight from his overcoat pocket and blinked it. The boat headed toward the beach.
    Dimitrov turned toward Mueller.
    â€œI wish you luck,
Obersturmbannführer
.”
    â€œGive my regards to the Führer, General.”
    He stood for a moment facing Dimitrov. Then raised his arm.
    â€œHeil Hitler!”

Chapter 5
    â€œSo why did he accept?” Todd Baker, managing editor of the
Washington Star
asked, sitting on the edge of Spencer Benson’s desk.
    â€œHarry is introducing him,” Spencer Benson said.
    â€œThey’ve announced that?”
    â€œNot yet.” Spencer winked. “I have my sources.”
    Benson smiled his cat-who-ate-the-canary smile. He was sandy-haired, brown-eyed, freckled, and still boyish in his late thirties. His smile was lopsided, and when he grinned, his eyes squinted. People said he had an endearing air about him, useful to disarm interview subjects, which was his specialty. He was the
Washington Star
’s top feature writer.
    â€œMakes sense,” Baker said. “Missouri is Harry’s home state. The Midwest is in.”
    â€œAnd Churchill is out,” Spencer reminded him.
    â€œYou think you can wheedle some idea of what he will talk about? He’s in Miami with his wife.”
    â€œSo I’ve heard. But I’m told he’s not doing interviews.”
    â€œHe loves interviews.”
    â€œI suppose he’s being coy.”
    â€œCome on, Spence, you’ve got the inside track. You don’t have to say what we’re really after. Feature is your turf, not hard news. Be a coup for us.”
    â€œWe’re not dating anymore, Todd. Besides, Sarah is on the West Coast making a movie.”
    â€œSo you are in touch?”
    â€œWe’re still friends,” Benson muttered, blushing.
    A month of passionate intensity didn’t make a lasting relationship. It was a fling. She was a delight, but her own person, not given to anything permanent—too rich for his blood. Drank too much. Wore him out in bed. And she had too many active lovers. Not his style. He was a one-woman-at-a-time man. Besides, he had obligations to his two children who lived in Bethesda with his ex-wife.
    â€œAs the Brits say: give it a go,” Baker said with authority. “I’m looking for a news peg. Maybe you can fish it out of him. Why this little college in the middle of nowhere? Why now? What’s the big deal? Fish around in Washington. You’ve got connections; use them.”
    His first call was to Donald Maclean, first secretary of the British embassy. Lord Halifax was the ambassador but dependent on Maclean to run the embassy. Sarah had introduced them at the height of their affair, and he invited them to a plushy dinner at the embassy. Maclean had called him after the dinner, and they had