Cambodian Hellhole Read Online Free
way.
Tonight was not a night for love. When Stone lay down tonight and slept, his dreams would be of fire and blood and killing.
There was no remaining room for softness in him, not tonight. And Stone had no desire to take An Ling along with him into the nightmare world that his nocturnal hours had become since the bungled mission into Vietnam.
The girl deserved a warmer, softer place.
Perhaps, in time, Mark Stone could join her there, and they could share some tenderness.
But first there was the fire.
Chapter Three
Â
M ark Stone's hotel was located in central Bangkok. Of the lower-middle budget class, it had seen better days, but it was still a cut above most of the other lodgings readily available inside the crowded Eastern city. It would offer little in the way of actual security, but at the moment, between assignments, Stone had nothing special to conceal in any case.
The taxi driver let him out onto the bustling sidewalk three doors down, stopping for a line of rickshaws that had pulled against the curb to wait for patrons. Stone did not object to walking back, and after paying off the driver, he merged with the flow of pedestrian traffic surging up and down the long, congested avenue.
He was about to enter the hotel when a Caucasian in a light, tropical-wear suit sidled up beside him, almost brushing elbows in the nighttime crush. Stone felt the man, and smelled his cheap aftershave, before he saw him, registering the presence on his flank, prepared to react instantly if some reaction was required.
He had never seen the man before, but he recognized the type instantly. A single glance was ample to provide him with the information that he needed.
"Mr. Stone? My name's Carruthers." The voice was firm and strong, but somehow lifeless. "I work out of the U.S. Embassy."
"That right? And how are things around the Company offices these days?"
He felt the C.I.A. man stiffen at his side, but he recovered swiftly, never missed a beat as they reached the hotel's revolving glass doors and passed on through, Carruthers trailing.
"It's important that I speak with you."
Stone halted in his tracks and turned to face the man who called himself Carruthers.
"So speak," he answered simply.
The agent looked both angry and embarrassed, managing to let both expressions surface on his countenance at once. "This isn't what I had in mind," he said.
Stone shrugged.
"Okay. Forget it."
He was turning toward the elevators when Carruthers seized him by the arm. Stone shook the hand off without difficulty, and this time, when he turned around, his face and voice were as cold as steel.
"We've never met, so I'll forgive you that. This once." Carruthers looked him over, seeming to decide it was not worth it, here and now, inside the crowded hotel lobby. "I don't believe you understand the situation."
Stone frowned at him. "I understand it perfectly," he countered. "Someone at your office found out I was back in town, and they decided to check me out, find out if there's anything unusual going on."
Carruthers stared at him blankly, without speaking.
"Well, you've done your job," Stone continued. "You've seen meâand I have absolutely nothing that I want to tell you. Got it?"
Without waiting for an answer from the agent, Mark Stone turned his back and walked away. Carruthers did not follow him across the lobby.
He reached the elevator, reconsidered on a whim, and took the stairs, hiking four flights up to his floor without encountering another patron on the way. The elevator might have been all right, of course, but the encounter with Carruthers had forewarned him. If he was being watched around Bangkokâby C.I.A. or other hostile eyesâthen it would pay to give himself some room to run, some room to fight at need.
And just because you might be paranoid, that did not mean no one was out to get you.
Stone smiled wryly as he remembered the slogan from the sixtiesâ"even paranoids have real enemies" but there was
Tonight was not a night for love. When Stone lay down tonight and slept, his dreams would be of fire and blood and killing.
There was no remaining room for softness in him, not tonight. And Stone had no desire to take An Ling along with him into the nightmare world that his nocturnal hours had become since the bungled mission into Vietnam.
The girl deserved a warmer, softer place.
Perhaps, in time, Mark Stone could join her there, and they could share some tenderness.
But first there was the fire.
Chapter Three
Â
M ark Stone's hotel was located in central Bangkok. Of the lower-middle budget class, it had seen better days, but it was still a cut above most of the other lodgings readily available inside the crowded Eastern city. It would offer little in the way of actual security, but at the moment, between assignments, Stone had nothing special to conceal in any case.
The taxi driver let him out onto the bustling sidewalk three doors down, stopping for a line of rickshaws that had pulled against the curb to wait for patrons. Stone did not object to walking back, and after paying off the driver, he merged with the flow of pedestrian traffic surging up and down the long, congested avenue.
He was about to enter the hotel when a Caucasian in a light, tropical-wear suit sidled up beside him, almost brushing elbows in the nighttime crush. Stone felt the man, and smelled his cheap aftershave, before he saw him, registering the presence on his flank, prepared to react instantly if some reaction was required.
He had never seen the man before, but he recognized the type instantly. A single glance was ample to provide him with the information that he needed.
"Mr. Stone? My name's Carruthers." The voice was firm and strong, but somehow lifeless. "I work out of the U.S. Embassy."
"That right? And how are things around the Company offices these days?"
He felt the C.I.A. man stiffen at his side, but he recovered swiftly, never missed a beat as they reached the hotel's revolving glass doors and passed on through, Carruthers trailing.
"It's important that I speak with you."
Stone halted in his tracks and turned to face the man who called himself Carruthers.
"So speak," he answered simply.
The agent looked both angry and embarrassed, managing to let both expressions surface on his countenance at once. "This isn't what I had in mind," he said.
Stone shrugged.
"Okay. Forget it."
He was turning toward the elevators when Carruthers seized him by the arm. Stone shook the hand off without difficulty, and this time, when he turned around, his face and voice were as cold as steel.
"We've never met, so I'll forgive you that. This once." Carruthers looked him over, seeming to decide it was not worth it, here and now, inside the crowded hotel lobby. "I don't believe you understand the situation."
Stone frowned at him. "I understand it perfectly," he countered. "Someone at your office found out I was back in town, and they decided to check me out, find out if there's anything unusual going on."
Carruthers stared at him blankly, without speaking.
"Well, you've done your job," Stone continued. "You've seen meâand I have absolutely nothing that I want to tell you. Got it?"
Without waiting for an answer from the agent, Mark Stone turned his back and walked away. Carruthers did not follow him across the lobby.
He reached the elevator, reconsidered on a whim, and took the stairs, hiking four flights up to his floor without encountering another patron on the way. The elevator might have been all right, of course, but the encounter with Carruthers had forewarned him. If he was being watched around Bangkokâby C.I.A. or other hostile eyesâthen it would pay to give himself some room to run, some room to fight at need.
And just because you might be paranoid, that did not mean no one was out to get you.
Stone smiled wryly as he remembered the slogan from the sixtiesâ"even paranoids have real enemies" but there was
Readers choose
Izzy Mason
Bryan Smith
D Sean
Gem Sivad
T. Jefferson Parker
Ellen Hopkins
Linwood Barclay
Bernard Knight
Brandon Berntson
Steven Herrick