Beirut - An Explosive Thriller Read Online Free

are okay?’
    Duggan
slurred his voice, replying in German, a thick Bavarian accent.
‘Never better, my friend. Never better.’
    ‘ Well, get
out of the fucking road, then.’
    Duggan beamed
stupidly up at the truck driver’s pale face, hamming up the drunken
reveller act. ‘Thanks. For the advice. And for stopping. It was
good of you.’
    The trucker
tutted and slammed the lorry back in gear. ‘Jesus. Hamburg. Fucking
drunks.’
    Duggan held
the girl up, weaving and waving at the departing truck. Dirt
streaked her leather jacket. A small cut on her right temple fed a
tendril of blood down into her dark eyebrow. She leaned against
him, breathing in small gulps, her scared eyes searching his
face.
    He helped her
away from the road and she slumped against the wall. He ran his
fingers along the two pale bullet marks in the stone.
    She smiled
shakily. ‘Thank you. That was good of you. But they will come
again.’
    ‘ They?’
    ‘ Those
men.’
    Duggan
brushed the gritty dirt from his jacket sleeve, the movement
triggering a dart of pain from his shoulder. ‘I only saw one. How
do you know they’ll come back?’
    She fought
for control. ‘They are working for my father. He is trying to
finish me.’
    ‘ To kill
you?’
    She searched
his face, wringing her hands. She dropped her gaze.
‘Yes.’
    A customs
officer by trade, Duggan had seen desperate people before. Trained
in reading the tiny signals of body language, he had spent years
scrutinising nervous travellers in airports as they walked through
the customs channels. He had waited by lorry drivers as his
officers had pulled little plastic bags of white powder from the
prised-open boxes and had felt the heat they radiated as they tried
to look calm. He was a specialist in fear, he reflected. Just the
ticket for this girl, a man who understood frightened people. He
weighed her up, took her unresisting arm.
    ‘ Come on. I
think I had better buy you a drink.’
    Duggan guided
her back towards the crossroads and into the warm fug of the bar
before the traffic lights. He led her to the toilets at the back.
‘Here. You can freshen up. I’ll have a wash myself and meet you at
the bar.’
    Duggan wasn’t
long in the gents. He went back into the bar, pulled up two stools
and called for two double brandies. He wondered if the girl would
slip through the back door. Looking back, he saw her coming back
into the bar and relaxed. Duggan watched her scan the room and
strike out towards him through the throng, her face pale and
serious. She reached the bar and drained her glass in a gulp. Her
nose was slightly off-centre, the imperfection lending her a quirky
prettiness. The cut above her eye no longer wept blood now she had
cleaned it up, but the nasty graze on her cheek burned
crimson.
    It seemed as
if they were the only people in the bar not chattering to each
other. The long room resounded with constant outbursts of bright
laughter, the bitter reek of beer mixed with rich food
smells.
    ‘ So. We have
not yet been introduced,’ he said in German, smiling. ‘I’m
Charles.’
    ‘ Elli. Elli
Hoffmann.’ Her eyes were on her hands cupping the small brandy
balloon.
    ‘ You
certainly know how to make a first impression, Elli.’
    She grimaced.
‘My jacket is ruined.’
    He
acknowledged this with a wry dip of his glass at her. ‘You could
have lost more than your jacket out there.’
    She glared up
at him. ‘It would perhaps have been better.’
    ‘ Oh come, on.
You’re being melodramatic,’ Duggan said, signalling the barman for
more drinks. ‘You could have died back there. A jacket’s a small
price most people would be glad to pay.’
    ‘ Maybe I am
not most people.’ She ran her hand through her short hair. ‘So,
thank you for trying to help me. This was very nice of you. But now
I think I would be better to leave.’
    He signalled
to the two glasses on the bar. ‘I bought you another drink. You’re
still very shaken.’
    She paused
for a second,