Anthony Shaffer & William H Kei The Last Line (v5.0) (epub)

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.“Your distribution network is in place?” Reyshahri asked Alvarado.“Sí, señor.My people need only the order.”“Then do it.You have the order.”Alvarado’s eyes widened.“Immediately?”Reyshahri nodded.“The longer we delay, the more likely it is that the enemy will discover us.”That, of course, had been the chief danger all along.Operation Shah Mat was so big, involved so many people, and had such terrifyingly far-reaching implications that the secret would not be secure for very much longer.They had to strike now, before the enemy was aware of the danger.“And your part in this game, señor capitán?”“It will happen.Eight, maybe ten days.No more.”The man hissed, a sharp intake of breath.“Jesús y María.”“God willing,” Reyshahri added.EXECUTIVE SWEETSWASHINGTON, D.C.1745 HOURS, EDTChris Teller paused at the door, then held it open for Procario.“After you, Colonel.”“I hate these joints,” Procario said, grimacing.“Why can’t you get yourself plastered in a decent dive?”Both of them were in civvies, Procario in a sports coat, Teller in his usual stone-washed jeans and a gray T-shirt.“I’ll have you know I’ve done some of my best undercover work here,” Teller said.“Undercover? Or under the covers?”“Cute.”“Damn it, Chris, this is embarrassing!Once, Fourteenth Street had been D.C.’s infamous red-light district, a seedy, noisome patch of inner-city lights and shabbiness where strip clubs, massage parlors, triple-X-rated theaters, tittie bars, and by-the-hour motels had shouldered one another in salacious intimacy with somewhat more respectable businesses such as liquor stores, tobacco shops, pawnbrokers, and quick-loan joints.That had been back in the wild and woolly seventies, when an intoxicated Wilbur Daigh Mills, honorable congressman from Arkansas, had been stopped at 2:00 A.M.one night by Park Police for driving without his lights—and a stripper with the stage name Fanne Foxe had bolted from the car and gone for an impromptu swim in the Tidal Basin.The 1974 scandal had led to Mills’s resigning as chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee.It had also led to an attempt by the city to clean up the Fourteenth Street strip once and for all.Nowadays, new sex-industry businesses were kept out, and the old ones, the ones grandfathered in, were strictly regulated and ruthlessly taxed.The old Pussycat Revue was now Executive Sweets, a high-toned gentleman’s club with a tastefully elegant sign out front and a twenty-dollar cover just to get in.It was, Teller thought, the perfect illustration of a truism.Washington might be dynamic, constantly moving, always changing, and yet the place never, ever changed.Teller and Procario walked through near-darkness to the front desk, giving a smiling hostess their money under the watchful eye of a bouncer who could have doubled as a linebacker for the Washington Redskins.Beyond the hostess station, the club opened into a crowded pub with dark wooden paneling, subdued lighting, and a haze of cigarette smoke suspended beneath the ceiling’s cedar beams, while sultry R&B droned from the sound system.Teller led the way to a table close by the runway, where a bored-looking brunette was taking off her clothes more or less to the music’s beat.Other women moved among the tables wearing sequined G-strings, high heels, and smiles, serving drinks or cruising for tips.Teller liked the place.He’d spent a lot of pleasant evenings here, though sometimes it was tough to remember everything that had happened the next morning.He glanced over at the bar and took in the framed and autographed poster-sized blow-up of a topless Annabelle Battistella, better known to her fans as Fanne Foxe.Evidently, her notorious late-night swim in the Tidal Basin had given her career a real boost, and she’d commanded top dollar for her dancing at a number of area clubs, including the old Pussycat.A brass plate beneath the portrait read THE TIDAL BASIN BOMBSHELL, the nom d’art she’d adopted after the Mills incident.Before that, she’d been known as the Argentine Firecracker.“Did you really do undercover work here?” Procario demanded.He didn’t sound convinced.“Huh? Sure.”“Doing what?”“Remember that Russian from the trade delegation last year? Turned out to be SVR?”“Suslov?”“That’s the one.Brought him here and got him hammered.Told him I could pull strings, get him a date with one of the girls.”“And he bit?”“He bit.Had to work fast, though.The Company was putting the moves on him, too.Snuck him right out under their Ivy League noses.They thought I was taking him to dinner at the Filomena, over in Georgetown.”“Slick.”“I thought so.”“So … did you?”“Did I what?”“Did you get him a date with one of the girls?”“Well, that would be between Suslov and the girl, wouldn’t it? Strictly after hours.The girls here could get fired if they’re caught getting too personal with the clientele, you know?”A waitress came up to their table, leaning forward to give them a good view.“What would you boys like?”“Those’ll do,” Teller said, winking at her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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