Read Loose Cannon: The Tom Kelly Novels for Free Online

I?” The secretary bobbed her head twice and disappeared back to her console. “And what in hell are those?” Pedler continued, staring at the bag and radio Kelly was carrying.
    “My clothes,” said the squat civilian, sitting down carefully on a cushioned chair, “and my radio. Want to listen to Radio Moscow? Take me a moment to rig the antenna. . . .” He took a coil of light wire, perhaps fifteen feet of it, from a coat pocket and began unwinding it as if oblivious of the general’s burgeoning amazement.
    There was a bustle at the door. A naval captain, no doubt the Naval Attaché and the second-ranking officer in a post this size, stepped past Lieutenant Morley. He was carrying a set of file folders, their contents attachéd to the manila covers by hole clips. “Glad you could make it, Mark,” General Pedler said caustically. “Mr. Kelly, Captain Laidlaw. Morley, what the hell are you doing here? Close the door behind you.”
    Kelly had clipped one end of the antenna wire onto the receiver—length for length, a piece of supple copper worked just as well as a steel whip, and it was easier to transport without poking anything. Now the civilian took the six-foot power cord out of the other coat pocket and began looking for a wall socket.
    “What is that?” asked Captain Laidlaw, poised over a chair at the corner of the general’s desk. “Some sort of debugging device?”
    “No, just a radio,” said Kelly. “The general wanted to hear”— there was a socket directly behind his own chair—“Radio Moscow.”
    “Put that goddamned thing down!” the Defense Attaché snapped. “Mark, sit down.” Pedler seated himself, breathing heavily and looking at his hands. The uncurtained window behind him looked along the Boissy d’Anglais. One of the roofs, a block or so away, might be that of the ETAP, one of the finest luxury hotels in Paris. Presumably Kelly would be put up in one of the block of rooms there which the embassy kept rented at all times for Temporary Duty personnel and high-ranking transients.
    Kelly would be put up there if he decided to stay, at least.
    “We—ah,” General Pedler began. “Ah, Captain Laidlaw here will brief you on the situation.”
    Laidlaw smiled brightly over his crossed knees. “Well, Mr. Kelly,” he said, “what have you been doing since you left the Army?”
    The civilian took out a multi-blade jackknife and began cleaning his nails with the awl. Without looking up from his fingers he said, “That’s my file there, isn’t it?”
    “Ah—”
    “Isn’t it current? Doesn’t it say I’ve been selling office equipment for Olivetti?” Kelly glared at Laidlaw. The captain’s eyes seemed focused on the glittering stainless steel of the knife.
    “Well, it . . .” Laidlaw temporized.
    “Look,” said Kelly, “that’s your quota of stupid questions for the day. You know about me or I wouldn’t be here. I don’t know a goddamned thing about what you want of me. You want to talk about that, I’ll listen. Otherwise, I’ll go back to Basel where at least I get paid to talk to turkeys.”
    “I think I’ll take over after all, Mark,” said General Pedler with surprising calm. He met Kelly’s eyes. “How current are your Russian and Vietnamese languages?”
    The civilian blinked and snapped the awl closed. “Not real current,” he said carefully, “but I can still communicate well enough, I suppose.” Wistfully he added, “I used to be Native Speaker level, 4-4, in both, you know . . . when we were monitoring the message traffic in. . . .” His voice trailed off.
    “And your French?” Pedler continued.
    “My French customers tell me I have a Corsican accent,” Kelly said with a chuckle, “and I once had an Italian wonder if I didn’t come from Eritrea the way he did. But nobody takes me for an American, if that’s what you mean.”
    “You won’t need Italian for this mission,” the general said decisively. “Now, even though you were with a,