Read Online The Loo Sanction by Trevanian - Free Book Online Page A

was done, then he knelt on the bed and brushed the hair away from her forehead. “Come on, now. Get dressed, dear.” He nuzzled into the closure of her dressing gown and kissed each of her breasts lightly. Then he left to collect money from the other bedrooms.
    Typical of poor boys who have finally become financially comfortable, he was ostentatiously careless with money and kept a fair amount around in cash. By the time he had come back to their bedroom, combed and shaved, he had gathered almost three hundred pounds, largely in crumpled, forgotten notes.
    She was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed, but still dazed.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    He sipped his third café crème. Maggie had desultorily stirred hers when it arrived, but had not drunk it; a tan scum had formed on its surface. She stared into the glass unseeing, her thoughts focused within her. From their table deep within a coffee shop across the street, Jonathan watched the entrance of his Baker Street residence carefully. They had not spoken since ordering.
    She broke the silence without looking up from her glass. “Are we safe here? Right across the street?”
    He nodded, his eyes not leaving the hotel’s revolving door. “Fairly safe, yes. They’ll expect us to try to make distance.”
    â€œThey? Who are they?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œBut you have some idea?”
    â€œIt could be CII. An American intelligence organization I used to work for. Years ago.”
    â€œDoing what?”
    He glanced at her. How could he tell her he had been an assassin? Or even, to split moral hairs, a counterassassin? He returned to watching the doorway across the street.
    â€œBut why would they want to implicate you in . . . in that terrible business back there?”
    â€œThey have devious, perverted minds. Impossible to know what they’re up to. Chances are they want me to work for them again.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œDrink your coffee.”
    â€œI don’t want it.”
    They returned to silence and to their own thoughts. And after a time the impulse to speak came to both at once.
    â€œDo you know what was the worst . . . Pardon? You were saying?”
    â€œLook, Maggie, I’m very sorry . . . Excuse me . . . The worst what?”
    â€œSorry . . . No, you go ahead.”
    â€œSorry . . . I was just going to say the obvious, love. I’m terribly sorry you’re implicated in this.”
    â€œAm I? Really implicated, Jonathan?”
    He shook his head. “No, no. Not really. I’ll get you clear of it. Don’t worry.”
    â€œAnd what about you?”
    â€œI can take care of myself.”
    â€œTrue.” She searched his eyes. “Too well, really.”
    â€œWhat is that supposed to mean?”
    â€œWell, that’s what I was going to say before. When I think about it, the worst part of the whole thing was your reaction. So brisk. Professional. As though you were used to this sort of business. You were terribly calm.”
    â€œNot really. I was scared and confused. That’s why I had to take that unit of light meditation.”
    â€œOn the bed?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you can sort yourself out just like that? In a few minutes?”
    â€œI can now. After years of practice.”
    She considered that for a moment. “There must have been some terrible things in your life, for you to have to develop—”
    â€œThere! There they are!”
    She followed his eyes to the hotel entrance. Through gaps in the traffic, she saw two men emerge and stand on the pavement, looking up and down the street. One of them was dressed oddly in flared trendy trousers, cowboy boots, and a longish, tight plaid sports jacket. The collar of his aloha shirt was folded over the jacket collar in the style of twenty-five years ago, and a bulky camera dangled from around his neck. The other man was tall and powerfully