Reach For the Spy Read Free Page B

world’s most dangerous weapon, I’d been
looking forward to taking some time off this summer to tinker with
my cars and suck back some cold suds.
    Now I had a bad feeling
that my summer was going to be filled with tedious computer work at
best, and, at worst, danger and terror like I’d experienced the
previous week. I shrugged as I made my way to my faithful ’98
Saturn. At least I hadn’t actually gotten tortured last week. And I
hadn’t had to kill anybody, either.
    My perception of silver
linings had changed a bit in the past four months.
    I hopped in the car and
drove out my long lane, carefully locking the gate behind me.
Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into the tiny town of
Silverside.
    I strode into the dingy
lobby of the Silverside Hotel just a few minutes before
nine-thirty. The deafening blare of a soccer game assaulted my ears
from the sports bar that doubled as the hotel’s restaurant. A
couple of elderly patrons stared blankly at the giant TV screen in
the dim room, but the place was mostly deserted.
    I walked over to the
reception desk and rang the bell on the counter. After a short
wait, I rang it again. Nobody responded.
    I shrugged. Small town.
They probably didn’t get too many hotel guests on a Monday
morning.
    Wandering into the
restaurant, I headed for the girl behind the counter. She looked
barely old enough to work in a licensed establishment. Her face was
plastered with petulance and too much makeup. Her hair was dyed
inky black, and piercings winked from her cheek, nose, eyebrow, and
lip. Tattooed spiders crawled over her generous cleavage.
    “Hi,” I yelled over the
noise. “I’m looking for Bill Harks.”
    She sneered. “If you
find him, you can have him. He’s a shithead.”
    Great. Just what I
needed to hear.
    “Where is he?”
    “Door behind the
reception desk. Knock before you go in. He’s probably jerking
off.”
    “Nice.”
    She shrugged.
“Whatever.”
    I retreated from the
din into the comparative quietness of the lobby and eyed the door
behind the reception desk uneasily. It was closed. I’d rung the
bell twice. This probably wasn’t worth the trouble. I really prefer
to avoid interrupting a man who’s on a hot date with Rosy Palm and
her five daughters.
    My dilemma resolved
itself when the door swung open. An enormous man shambled out and I
took an involuntary step back. He was at least six foot six, and he
must have weighed well over three hundred pounds. His arms looked
like hams. With no neck to speak of, his close-cropped hair gave
him a troll-like appearance. His bullet head swivelled slowly
toward me and he peered at me out of deep-set eyes.
    I put on a noncommittal
smile. “I’m looking for Bill Harks.”
    “You found him.”
    I stepped forward,
trying to look confident. “I’m Aydan Kelly, the bookkeeper. We had
an appointment for nine-thirty.”
    I reached out to shake
his hand. Serious mistake. I’ve got big hands for a woman. My hand
disappeared and he gave a thin smile as he crushed it in his.
“You’re late.” My knuckles popped and agony shot through my hand as
my arthritic thumb bent back.
    I clenched my teeth and
kept my face impassive.
    He stared down at me
for a long moment before releasing my hand. “Come into the office.”
He turned his back and trundled through the door behind the
reception desk. I followed him with the distinct impression that
this was a bad, bad idea.
    Harks gestured to the
chair behind the piled-up desk. “Sit. It’s all there.”
    I tried not to visibly
detour around him as I walked past. The smell of stale beer and
cigarettes overwhelmed me when I perched gingerly behind the desk.
He came around behind my chair, and apprehension crawled up my
spine. I hate having my back exposed.
    The chair sank as he
leaned his elbows on its back. He loomed over me, much too close
for comfort, and gestured to the computer screen with his free
hand. “There you go.”
    Forcing myself to
ignore his unpleasant proximity, I