Read Online The Nameless Dead by Paul Johnston - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Paul Johnston
Tags: thriller
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disturbing. ‘So what’s going on, Peter? You’re getting me back to full fitness, you’re letting us communicate with the outside world. Are we going to get out soon?’
He stared at me. ‘I don’t know, Matt. There may be some movement in Justice’s position. The birth should help.’
‘How about Doc Rivers’s reports? He says I’m making good progress with the deconditioning.’
‘Why do you think I’m down here, Matt? I’ll be talking to him later. I might even look in on a session.’
That didn’t fill me with hope. If another trigger kicked in…
‘How about some firearms practice?’ I asked, putting the pressure back on him. ‘You know I’ll need it if we get out.’
‘Will you? Whatever you think, I reckon the Bureau’s quite capable of protecting you and yours from the so-called Soul Collector.’
‘Touché,’ I said, shaking my head. Getting round Sebastian was about as easy as spearing mosquitoes.
‘I’m working on things.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll see you again before I go back to D.C.’
‘Hey,’ I said, as he walked to the door. ‘You never told me what happened when you were undercover in L.A.’
The FBI man looked round. ‘That’s classified.’ He paused. ‘What the hell? You’re almost family now. Put it this way—the studio went out of business and the Mob lost five soldiers.’
‘You’re some tough guy,’ I said. ‘How many special agents breathed their last?’
‘That really is classified,’ Sebastian said, slamming the door behind him.
Arthur Bimsdale was watching Sergeant Quincy Jerome instruct some very raw-looking army recruits in the basics of self-defense. There were regular thuds as they hit the padded floor of the dojo; none of them managed to lay a hand on the big man.
‘Why don’t you give it a shot?’
The special agent turned and saw that his boss had sat down behind him on the tiered benches. ‘Em, I don’t think that would be a good idea, sir.’
‘Don’t you?’ Peter Sebastian gave the tight smile that always appeared when he wanted to put the squeeze on a subordinate. ‘What’s the matter? Forgotten everything you learned at Quantico?’
‘No, sir. It’s just that I wouldn’t like to put him in the hospital.’
Sebastian’s eyes opened wide. ‘Very good, Arthur. Maybe you have got a spine after all.’ He frowned. ‘I’d still like you to challenge the sergeant.’
Bimsdale knew there was no point in further resistance. He’d already taken a chance by answering his boss back. He waited patiently till the squad was dismissed, then made his way over to the mat without looking at Sebastian.
‘Excuse me, Sergeant, could I challenge you?’
Quincy Jerome looked at him dubiously. ‘Who exactly are you, son?’
Bimsdale explained.
‘Okay, Arthur. How do you want to do this?’
Bimsdale had taken off his suit jacket and shoes, and placed his pistol and shoulder holster carefully on the floor. ‘I don’t suppose you’d let me throw you and then pretend you got concussed?’
‘You don’t suppose right,’ the sergeant said, with a laugh. ‘You FBI dudes are really something.’ He stepped back quickly as Bimsdale launched a high kick at his throat.
The contest lasted longer than Sebastian had expected. He knew from his assistant’s file that the young man had done well on every module at Quantico, but he assumed he’d been putting on a show for the examiners. After twenty minutes, during which Bimsdalealmost put Jerome down several times, he walked over to the dojo.
‘All right, gentlemen,’ he said, clapping his hands.
Both combatants were breathing heavily and Arthur Bimsdale’s tie had come undone.
‘You’ve made your point,’ Sebastian said to his assistant. ‘Go and have a shower, then meet me at the science block.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Bimsdale said, voice louder than usual.
‘So, Sergeant,’ Peter Sebastian said when they were alone, ‘what do you think?’
Quincy Jerome wiped his
He stared at me. ‘I don’t know, Matt. There may be some movement in Justice’s position. The birth should help.’
‘How about Doc Rivers’s reports? He says I’m making good progress with the deconditioning.’
‘Why do you think I’m down here, Matt? I’ll be talking to him later. I might even look in on a session.’
That didn’t fill me with hope. If another trigger kicked in…
‘How about some firearms practice?’ I asked, putting the pressure back on him. ‘You know I’ll need it if we get out.’
‘Will you? Whatever you think, I reckon the Bureau’s quite capable of protecting you and yours from the so-called Soul Collector.’
‘Touché,’ I said, shaking my head. Getting round Sebastian was about as easy as spearing mosquitoes.
‘I’m working on things.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll see you again before I go back to D.C.’
‘Hey,’ I said, as he walked to the door. ‘You never told me what happened when you were undercover in L.A.’
The FBI man looked round. ‘That’s classified.’ He paused. ‘What the hell? You’re almost family now. Put it this way—the studio went out of business and the Mob lost five soldiers.’
‘You’re some tough guy,’ I said. ‘How many special agents breathed their last?’
‘That really is classified,’ Sebastian said, slamming the door behind him.
Arthur Bimsdale was watching Sergeant Quincy Jerome instruct some very raw-looking army recruits in the basics of self-defense. There were regular thuds as they hit the padded floor of the dojo; none of them managed to lay a hand on the big man.
‘Why don’t you give it a shot?’
The special agent turned and saw that his boss had sat down behind him on the tiered benches. ‘Em, I don’t think that would be a good idea, sir.’
‘Don’t you?’ Peter Sebastian gave the tight smile that always appeared when he wanted to put the squeeze on a subordinate. ‘What’s the matter? Forgotten everything you learned at Quantico?’
‘No, sir. It’s just that I wouldn’t like to put him in the hospital.’
Sebastian’s eyes opened wide. ‘Very good, Arthur. Maybe you have got a spine after all.’ He frowned. ‘I’d still like you to challenge the sergeant.’
Bimsdale knew there was no point in further resistance. He’d already taken a chance by answering his boss back. He waited patiently till the squad was dismissed, then made his way over to the mat without looking at Sebastian.
‘Excuse me, Sergeant, could I challenge you?’
Quincy Jerome looked at him dubiously. ‘Who exactly are you, son?’
Bimsdale explained.
‘Okay, Arthur. How do you want to do this?’
Bimsdale had taken off his suit jacket and shoes, and placed his pistol and shoulder holster carefully on the floor. ‘I don’t suppose you’d let me throw you and then pretend you got concussed?’
‘You don’t suppose right,’ the sergeant said, with a laugh. ‘You FBI dudes are really something.’ He stepped back quickly as Bimsdale launched a high kick at his throat.
The contest lasted longer than Sebastian had expected. He knew from his assistant’s file that the young man had done well on every module at Quantico, but he assumed he’d been putting on a show for the examiners. After twenty minutes, during which Bimsdalealmost put Jerome down several times, he walked over to the dojo.
‘All right, gentlemen,’ he said, clapping his hands.
Both combatants were breathing heavily and Arthur Bimsdale’s tie had come undone.
‘You’ve made your point,’ Sebastian said to his assistant. ‘Go and have a shower, then meet me at the science block.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Bimsdale said, voice louder than usual.
‘So, Sergeant,’ Peter Sebastian said when they were alone, ‘what do you think?’
Quincy Jerome wiped his
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