the Hunted (1977) Read Online Free Page B

the tear sheets out of the folder , glanced at the front-page story, unfolded the sheets , and stared at the photo page, at the figure s wrapped in blankets and the bearded, shirtless ma n in the light-colored trousers.
    "Yes, he looks like an Israeli there," Tali said , "but I can see it's Mr. Rosen. We don't have thi s picture here."
    "Wire service," Mel Bandy said. "It was in th e Times, the Chicago Tribune, the Detroit papers, it could've been in every paper in the country--Rosi e showing off his body--and he doesn't know it."
    "He called you from Netanya?"
    "I think that's what he said. But he was--wha t should I say--upset, distraught? He was shitscared is what he was. See, I already had my reservation. I told him hang on, call me late Wednesday afternoon at the Pal Hotel, Tel Aviv, we'd work i t out together."
    "Oh, you were coming here to see him?"
    "I told him last month I'd be here sometime i n March."
    "I didn't know that," the girl said. She ha d thought Mr. Bandy, Mr. Rosen's lawyer, was her e because someone had tried to kill Mr. Rosen. Sh e didn't know of another reason for the lawyer to b e here. She didn't want to ask him about it. He looke d tired and hot, even in the air-conditioned car.
    "It wasn't in the newspapers about a man shooting at anyone," Tali said. "I went to Netanya, but I didn't find out what coffeehouse it was that it happened at. Only that he checked out from the hotel."
    Approaching a highway intersection, they followed the curving shortcut lane past a green sign with arrows and the names of towns in Hebre w and English-- Peta Tiqva, Ramla, Tel Aviv--an d past lines of soldiers waiting for rides: girls in min i uniform skirts and young bareheaded men, some o f them armed with submachine guns.
    "How far is it?" Mel said.
    Tali looked at him. "Netanya? I don't think he' s there anymore."
    "Tel Aviv."
    "Oh . . . twenty minutes more."
    "How about the money? The guy get it yet?"
    "He receive it yesterday," Tali said. "I call whe n we get to the hotel."
    "Have him bring it over as soon as he can."
    Tali hesitated, not sure if it was her place to as k questions. "You want to give it to Mr. Rosen yourself?"
    "I'm thinking about it," Mel said. "We'll se e how it goes."
    The black guy, standing by the open trunk of th e BMW, waved in quick come-on gestures to the tw o Americans walking out of the Ben Gurion termina l building, each carrying a suitcase and a small bag.
    The older of the two men, who had the look of a retired professional football player, a line coach , was Gene Valenzuela. His gaze, squinted in th e sunglare, moved from the white BMW to the right , to the flow of traffic leaving the airport, and bac k again to the BMW. Valenzuela had short hair an d wore his sport shirt open, the collar tips pointin g out to his shoulders, outside his checked sportcoat.
    The younger one, Teddy Cass, had long hair h e combed with his fingers. He had good shoulder s and no hips, the cuffs of his green-and-gold prin t shirt turned up once. Teddy Cass was saying, "Shit , we could've brought it with us. Anything we wan t to use."
    The black guy was waving at them. "Come on , throw it in. They already took off."
    Reaching him, Valenzuela said, "You see thei r car?"
    "Gray Mercedes. Chickie with the nice ass got i n with him."
    "So they're going the same way we are," Tedd y Cass said.
    "My man," the black guy said, "any place yo u are, they four ways to go. They could be going t o Jerusalem. They could be going north or south. W e got to know it."
    In the BMW, driving away from the terminal , Teddy Cass still couldn't get over breezing throug h Customs without opening a bag.
    Gene Valenzuela had the back seat to himself.
    He had a road map of Israel open on his lap. H e would look out the window at the fields and th e sun and then look at the map.
    The black guy asked, "He see you on the plane?"
    Leaving it up to either one.
    "He was in back with the rabbis and the tou r groups," Valenzuela said. "I know what