Lady Death by Brian Drake (good e books to read .TXT) 📕

congested street. What he saw were people free of the kind of problems he faced on a daily basis. It was time to join them.

“Ben?”

“What?”

“How do we handle Franco?”

“Change the location of the meet. Tell nobody.”

“I know where he is right now.”

“I’m short of assassins, Amira. Change the meet. I want an extra crew of gunners too.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

She scooted back her chair and exited the café. Doyle downed the last of his now-cold espresso and followed her after a few minutes. He left the last bits of his Danish behind. He didn’t leave a tip.

The exchange took place without interruption. Doyle, Amira, and two vans filled with four-man gun crews met the client on the bottom level of a mall parking structure. Money and guns changed hands. Nobody went home with any bullets in them.

Doyle returned to his penthouse apartment at the top of Hotel Sensanna. He felt worn out mentally and physically and tried sleeping. He couldn’t. Sitting in the dimly lighted living room, his smoldering gaze stared at nothing in particular.

In the time it took to finish a half-glass of Glenlivet he’d made up his mind. He’d turn over the gun business to Amira and run the hotel. His intelligence buddies wouldn’t like the news. He figured he’d still have to answer questions when they approached him. There was still enough criminal activity in his past to hang him. He would if he could. He didn’t want to sit in dark parking lots waiting for somebody to maybe kill him any longer.

He was young enough, and rich enough, to enjoy the rest of his life.

Doyle climbed back into bed with a feeling of calm about him. He’d made the right decision. He dozed off.

Raven enjoyed his visits to Madrid. He’d toured the city three times in the last five years. The architecture was the main draw for him. He appreciated the mix of modern with historic buildings. Raven was fond of old things, buildings or other useful objects. It told him not everything faced obsolescence. He often felt like a dinosaur, out of place in a narcissistic world. The resilience of “old things” gave him hope he was wrong.

But he wasn’t in the city to admire the history this time.

He had a target, questions needing answers, and a ticking clock. Operation Triangle never left his thoughts for long.

Raven checked in at the Hotel Sensanna and quickly unpacked the basics. There wasn’t time for elaborate surveillance. Raven needed to move fast, which meant picking up Doyle’s trail and squeezing him hard. He hoped the British agents Clark Wilson had mentioned weren’t in the city for one of their “now and then” visits.

He knew Doyle occupied the penthouse. All Raven needed was a way up there or wait for Doyle to come down.

Amira would arrive in ten minutes.

Ben Doyle decided not to dress up. His conversation with her wouldn’t be long and they wouldn’t leave the hotel. Well, she would when they finished. Doyle intended to lock himself in the penthouse and get to work on his exit paperwork. Amira needed all the details of the business. Client lists, supplier information, and knowledge of Doyle’s secret “inventory” locations.

The information he’d give her, should it fall into the wrong hands, might put him away for life. And jeopardize governments and individuals who bought large quantities of black-market weapons. Especially the governments looking to get around UN regulations.

He found her in the downstairs bar. She had a Manhattan in front of her and a martini waiting for him.

“Gin?” he said, taking the stool next to her.

“Of course.” She smiled. “What’s going on? I thought I wouldn’t hear from you until the next deal.”

Doyle sipped his drink. The elixir was ice cold and hit his stomach hard. He nodded hello to the bartender. The bar was doing its usual brisk business with both guests and street clientele filling seats.

“I’m getting out,” he told her. “I’m giving you control of the gun business.”

She set her drink down. In the low light of the bar, she looked striking. Tan skin and dark eyes, the high cheekbones, and intense expression she wore when she wasn’t smiling. She looked at him with a mix of curiosity and surprise.

“What?”

“Everything is yours now.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I need to do this,” he said. “This Franco situation clinched it for me. It’s not fun anymore.”

“Well, okay.” She swallowed more of her drink. “How do we do this transition?”

“I’ll provide you with documentation. Everything you need to know. You’ll be able to take over without a hitch.”

“I’m truly surprised, Ben. I didn’t expect to be your heir.”

“Who else but my second-in-command should take over?” He lifted his glass. “A toast. To your new future, and mine.”

She smiled. Her eyes lit up. They clinked glasses.

Raven didn’t know who the woman was and didn’t care. Girlfriend, associate, whore, it didn’t matter. What mattered was he had Doyle in sight. He waited at a table, with his own martini, as they completed their conversation.

To his surprise, the woman left after finishing her Manhattan. He didn’t watch her go. Instead, he signaled to the bartender for another drink.

Raven left the table and started across the bar.

A man stepped in front of him. About as tall as him, with blond hair. He shook his head.

Raven said, “Excuse me,” and started to pass, but the man put out a heavy arm and blocked him.

The man opened his sport jacket enough to show Raven the butt of an autoloader under his arm.

A voice behind him said, “Not another step, Mr. Raven.”

A woman. He turned. Then he smiled.

“Well, Miss Watson. Is the game afoot?”

“Don’t start.”

Misty Watson folded her arms and locked an angry gaze on Raven’s face. She was shorter than him, with long red hair, and pale white skin.

Raven laughed. Misty Watson worked for MI6.

British Intelligence.

Typical.

“My dear Watson,” Raven said, “what a pleasure to see you. Shall we talk somewhere?”

“Keep up the ‘Watson’ crap and we’ll be talking in a