Gambit by David Hagberg (fantasy novels to read txt) 📕

Sex and money, not necessarily in that order, had always been Bell’s main preoccupation. And here he was now flying top shelf after a successful mission and sitting next to a beautiful woman.

“Where are you staying in Athens?” he asked.

“The Electra. I always stay there. My treat to myself whenever I have to fly.”

“The Metropolis?”

“Yes, you know it?” she asked.

“As it turns out, I’ll be staying there for a few days. Maybe we could have drinks and dinner?”

“I’d love to. I have two days off before rehearsals start.”

“Won’t you be missed?”

“By the other actors?” she laughed. “Most of this crowd are more interested in looking at themselves in the mirror and reading their fabulous reviews.”

“Can’t be all that bad.”

“Worse,” she said. “You’ll be a breath of fresh air. Believe me.”

They turned onto the active runway, and in moments, the big jet accelerated.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Carol said, and she reached over and clutched Bell’s hand in a death grip.

He had to smile.

“Sure, you can laugh because you’re not crapping in your pants,” she said.

“Like I said, I have a couple of days before rehearsals start,” Carol told Bell at a late lunch the next day in the dining room looking toward the Parthenon.

“Lots to see in the city. I’ve only ever been here twice before, so I’m sure I’ve missed a lot.”

“In that case, I’ll be the girl guide. We can start on foot, but we’ll have to rent a car at some point to catch some neat places outside the city.”

“A lot of history here.”

“Yeah, and it’s still being made,” Carol said. “Game?”

“I’m all yours.”

They had adjoining suites, which Bell had thought was a fantastic stroke of luck. They’d touched down just before seven last night, and by the time they’d cabbed it to the hotel in the city and unpacked, Bell had figured she would go straight to bed. But she’d knocked on his door just before ten.

“Care for some company?” she asked. She was wearing only a white hotel robe.

“I’m all yours.”

“I’d hoped you’d say that.”

Actually, as far as the woman who was playing the part of Carol Grace was concerned, all of life was in reality an unreality. Everyone was an actor onstage, playing whatever part they’d learned as children. The face—or, more accurately, the persona—that we presented to the world was only one half of the truth. The remainder was buried sometimes so deeply in a person’s head that they often could never tell the difference between truth and fiction. Not that it mattered, if you managed to keep your stories straight.

Carol was a well-preserved forty-eight instead of the thirty-five she played, because of a few hundred thousand dollars in face-lifts, dental work, tummy tucks, liposuction, breast enhancements, and leg and thigh shaping.

The only bits and pieces that hadn’t been worked on were those involved in lovemaking, which was an art that, along with others, she had perfected years ago. She looked good, she spoke well, and she was dynamite in bed. Plus, she knew how to make money. Which was the point.

Only one man in her entire life had ever gotten the best of her, along with a very close friend, financially. And the two of them were going to even the score.

Revenge was petty, she’d read somewhere. But sweet nonetheless. And no one would get in their way.

The Acropolis was first on their list, but the tourists were so thick it was hard to see or do anything, and in less than an hour, Carol took Bell aside.

“I love people and all that, but this is nuts. Do you want to get off the beaten path?”

“I’m game as long as it’s with you.”

She smiled and took his arm. Downtown just off Syntagma Square, they found an Avis rental place, leased a Peugeot Allure SUV for the day, and headed east out of the center of the city through a working-class neighborhood.

“Mount Ymittos,” Carol said. “One of Athens’s more closely guarded secrets.”

They parked near the ruins of what she said was an ancient Byzantine monastery and got out of the car.

They were above the city, the thickly forested mountain sloping up and away.

“I’m not much for churches,” Bell said, but she took his arm, and they headed toward a walking path.

“Neither am I, but if you’re game for a twenty-minute walk, I’ll show you the best view of Athens from above, and a little spot in the trees off the path, where we can be alone.”

“As I said earlier, I’m all yours.”

“I’d hoped you’d say that.”

About fifteen minutes later, they found the narrow track off the path that she’d been looking for and followed it down about one hundred meters to a very small glen, no more than a dozen paces in length and half that in width.

From here, they had a lovely view of the city below, and closer at hand, a grassy depression about the size of a pair of king-size beds.

Bell smiled. “Perfect,” he said.

“Actually, you fucked up, and we can’t tolerate mistakes,” Carol said behind and above him.

Bell started to turn as she took a pistol out of her purse and fired into the side of his head.

He never heard nor felt the shot that killed him.

NINE

Ever since Mary Sullivan and Otto had gotten together, Mary had become point man for him and for Mac and Pete whenever something came up. Like Louise Horn, she was not only bright, she was an organizer.

She had called Housekeeping into action as soon as she and Otto understood what was going down at the Georgetown apartment, and it was she who arranged the meeting with the top brass at Langley for the following morning.

She met McGarvey and Pete with their temporary security badges at the elevator in the VIP garage below the Old Headquarters Building a few minutes before ten. Neither of them were CIA employees any longer, and even though he had been the director, he still needed a badge.

“Sorry about your wedding,” Pete told