Read Online The Holy Bullet by Luis Miguel Rocha - Free Book Online

new lover, as well as gratitude and admiration for his mysterious boss, who gave him, without knowing it, all that professional and emotional stability.
    The phone rang on his desk—yes, he had his own desk outside Sarah’s office, turned toward the noisy editorial office always overflowing with frenzied activity—shaking him out of that happy daydreaming and recalling him to work.
    “Simon Lloyd,” the person on the other end of the line said.
    “Hello, my love.” A wide smile gradually spread over his lips as soon as he recognized the voice. A blush colored the skin of his face and stirred other corporal reactions, normal in this case. “I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”
    A conversation began at this point between lovers that is not worth following, topics like “Did you sleep well? You’re an angel,” and even “I didn’t want to wake you, so I left quietly.” Let’s move on to the persistent ring of the phone five minutes later, another call that required his attention.
    “Hold on a minute. I have another call on the line,” Simon said. “Just a minute, angel. Kiss, kiss, kiss.” He forced himself to press Hold.
    “Simon Lloyd,” he answered professionally, although he let some irritation show in his voice.
    “Good morning, Simon,” he heard a voice say in a not very friendly foreign accent. “I want to talk to Sarah.”
    “She’s busy. I’ll have to see if she wants to take the call. Who’s calling?” he asked while he looked at the nails of his right hand, analyzing whether they needed to be trimmed. Image was everything in this business and in this city.
    “Tell her it’s her father.”
    “Oh, Senhor Raul. How are you? I didn’t recognize your voice. I beg your pardon.”
    “No problem. I’m fine, and you?” If it weren’t for Cupid’s arrow, Simon would have noticed a certain impatience in the captain’s voice with talking for the sake of talking.
    “Very well. I’m very well.” The same stupid smile spread over his mouth, a smile of happiness. “I’m going to transfer you, Senhor Raul. Have a good day.” If it hadn’t been for his lover on hold on the other line, Simon would have started a long conversation with Sarah’s father, whom he had not yet had a chance to meet. Better that he chose not to. Better for the two of them, of course.
    He pressed the buttons to transfer the call to Sarah without telling her first, since his instructions were to send any family calls through directly.
    “I’m back, my love,” he said with the same stupid grin and blush covering his face. “It was my boss’s father. Nothing important.”
    Let us leave the love affair on that side and move on to Sarah’s office, where the telephone began to ring. It was not Simon; that would sound different—the marvels of technology—it was an outside call, and a glance at the screen identified the familiar number of the family home of her parents in Beja. She stopped the work she was doing and answered immediately.
    “Hello?”
    “Sarah?”
    “Hi, Papa. Is everything all right?”
    “Are you all right, Sarah?” One question followed another, as he completely ignored his daughter’s first concern.
    “I’m fine.” Something’s wrong . Her father’s voice didn’t reflect his customary calm. The last time she’d heard this tone there was a man at the door of her old house in Belgrave Road preparing to kill her. And the only reason he didn’t was—
    “Sarah, you need to pay attention to me,” her father ordered in a serious voice.
    “What’s going on, Papa?” An anxiety returned that she hadn’t felt for a long time, a disagreeable sensation she hoped never to feel again.
    “Listen, Sarah,” her father repeated. “Listen carefully. You have to leave London immediately—”
    “Why?” she interrupted, her heart suddenly thumping with alarm. “Don’t treat me like a child. This time I want to know everything.”
    Silence on the line, not total, punctuated by clicks and