Read Chase Baker and the God Boy: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book No. 3) for Free Online Page B

down the rest of her Prosecco, slides off the
stool.
    “Lead the way, Mr. Baker.”
    My first full view of her
take-no-prisoners body. Outstanding. Maybe this job won’t be so bad after all.
    “Call me, Chase.”
    On our way out of the bar, I shoot
a wink at Calum and Matt.
    “Some guys have all the luck,” Calum
says loud enough for me to overhear. “Or maybe my karma just sucks.”
    “You might think twice next time
about who you’re tossing out a window,” Matt says.

 
7
     

     
    We walk out of Piazza Santa Maria Novella down a narrow road
that leads directly to the river. Maybe two hundred feet on the right is the
Ponte Vecchio, one of only two bridges spared by the Nazis when they blew them
sky high to prevent the allied advance during World War II. The old iron lamps
mounted to the bridge’s stone buttresses illuminate the now cool, foggy evening
in inverted arcs of smoky lamp light.
    When I come to the mid-point of the
bridge—an open area sandwiched between the many butcher-shops-turned-jewelry-stores—I
stop, turn, and pull the .45 from my shoulder holster.
    Anjali’s dark eyes go wide. “What
are you doing, Chase?”
    “What’s happening here? Your boss
just happens to know a little bit too much about my life. Knows where to find me,
knows about my past loves. Or love, anyway. Why do I get the feeling that
finding his God Boy is a do or die mission? As in, I either do it, or die.”
    She feigns a smile. “You have Dr.
Singh all wrong, Chase. Finding Rajesh is his number one priority and he knows
you are the only man in the world capable of that task.”
    “That why he tossed in the little
bonus about Elizabeth Flynn? My heart tells me she’s dead, Anjali. But he claims
she’s alive.”
    “Dr. Singh might be many things, but
a liar is not one of them. If he knows of this Elizabeth you speak of and he
says she is alive, then you must believe him.”
    “He claims to be a psychoanalyst or
clinical psychology professor or both. But tell me, what’s Singh’s real business?”
    “He has many businesses. His family
has gathered great wealth and prestige over the decades. He is an investor. He
is also a generous benefactor. One of his passions is children. The new
children’s hospital in New Delhi was personally financed by him. Rajesh is his
son. It has not been easy for him, having to bear the burden of a child with
six arms.”
    “Okay, he’s got a lot of dough and
he’s nice, and he’s got a lot of college degrees to prove how much smarter he
is than me. But why insist on messing with my head? That one of his little psychoanalysis
tricks?”
    She eyes the gun barrel. “Pardon me
for saying so, but I’m not sure it’s your head he’s messing with. Perhaps your
heart would be more accurate.”
    I exhale, lower the gun, return it
to the holster.
    “Show me what I need to know, Anjali.”
    She digs into her bag, retrieves the
iPad, fires it up. The screen illuminates with a man’s face. It’s covered with
a thick, black beard, his eyes shielded by aviator sunglasses. His hair is
equally black, his skin dark like an Indian or perhaps even a man originating
from one of the Stans…Pakistan or Afghanistan. I can’t see precisely what he’s
wearing, but judging from his shoulders and collar, he’s sporting a military-style
tunic.
    “Do you know this man, Chase?”
    I stare at the face. It isn’t the
least bit friendly.
    “Can’t say I know the man,” I say
truthfully. “But the more I look at it, the more my mind spins.”
    “His name is Ilyas Kashmiri and,
until recently, he was the head of Al Qaeda’s 313 Brigade.”
    My pulse picks up. Bingo. Now I
recognize him.
    “I know of 313. They’re the
terrorist team that operates out of Afghanistan and Pakistan.”
    “Exactly. They also have ties to the
Iranian-backed Hezbollah, and more recently to ISIS regiments both in Syria and
Iraq. They are cold-hearted killers and they have