The Rule of Nine Read Online Free Page A

before he died. It’s possible the two of them, Liquida and Afundi, got sideways, and Afundi came out second best in a grudge match.”
    â€œYeah, I’d say whoever did this has a problem with anger management,” says Harry. He is looking at the photograph of the charred body.
    â€œThe question is, assuming the information from Mexico is accurate, how did Liquida’s thumbprint, if it is his, end up on your business card in the wallet of a drug overdose in D.C.?” says Thorpe.
    I look at him with a blank stare. “So what is it exactly that you’re telling us?”
    â€œIt’s possible that you show up on this guy’s radar screen,” says Thorpe, “and that’s not a place you want to be. Just a heads-up. If I were you, and this goes for each of you, until we know more, I’d be careful going out anywhere alone, especially after dark. And if you have any security devices at home, you might want to make sure they’re turned on.”

FOUR
    J osh Root was a man who could always make time for an old friend. He and Nicholas Merle had come of age together in the counterculture trenches of the sixties. So when Root called him on his cell phone and asked to meet for a drink, Nick didn’t think anything of it.
    â€œThe usual place?” said Nick.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œGive me twenty minutes.”
    Neither man felt comfortable venturing into the other’s office. It was one of those unwritten rules of government etiquette.
    The “usual place” was a quiet upscale restaurant in Columbia Heights, not far from the Capitol and the court building. The restaurant possessed a lounge dripping with old-world charm, dark wood, and equally dim lights.
    Root arrived first, dropped off by his driver, who parked in a garage across the street and waited. He ordered a drink and took a seat at the booth in the back corner.
    When it came to their meetings, Nick was usually late, mumbling something about circumspection and Caesar’s wife. It was part ofNick’s cautious routine. He always had to be certain that no one had picked up on their private meetings, especially the ever curious rumormongers from the press corps. Josh always gave him a hard time about it. If they ran into each other at a cocktail party or an embassy fling, it was fine. But a one-on-one meeting in a bar would cause tongues to wag, not that anybody could do anything about it. Still, why end up in the gossip sheets?
    A few minutes later Nick came through the door. He smiled the moment he saw Root. In many ways they were like night and day. Nick was as organized as Josh was chaotic. Nick was tall and slender, had a kind of stately appearance, and was reserved in his manner, whereas Josh was in your face. Josh’s suits, no matter how well tailored or expensive, never seemed to fit his paunchy body. If Nick was the smile of life, Josh was the scowl. Yet with all their differences the two men remained fast friends.
    Nick had been losing weight for the past several months. He didn’t look good, at least not to Josh, whose mind was increasingly focused on thoughts of mortality. Nick was working too hard.
    He ordered soda water, no twist, just ice. Nick never allowed alcohol to pass his lips during business hours. He took the glass from the bartender, headed for the booth, and took a seat on the other side of the table. “I thought you were out of town, back in Oregon.”
    â€œI was until yesterday,” said Root. “I came back to take care of some business.”
    â€œI should be out of here myself, but I’m interviewing some new clerks for the fall,” said Nick. “What a pain. Kids. Still, a couple of them are pretty bright.”
    â€œRemember when we were that age?” said Root.
    â€œI don’t think I can remember that far back.”
    â€œSure you can. Berkeley, sixty-eight,” said Josh.
    â€œJesus, don’t remind me. Seems like another