Read Project Moses - A Mystery Thriller (Enzo Lee Mystery-Thriller Series) for Free Online Page A

trouble?” he asked.
    “I don’t know exactly.” Lee shrugged. “Curiosity, I guess.”
    Chu’s frown did not change. “Before you start trouble, you better know why.”
    •   •   •
    SARAH ARMSTRONG EASED herself carefully into her car and tossed the cane into the back seat. It was a heavy cane made of yellowed bamboo, a loaner from a sympathetic neighbor. Thus far, she had resisted the urge to buy something more consistent with her wardrobe, perhaps something with trim lines and a dark, wood-grain finish.
    It had been two days since the accident…incident? She wasn’t sure what to call it. Sarah had finished two spy thrillers, read Architectural Digest, Harpers and Ms. magazines cover to cover, overdosed on talk shows and answered every phone message left at her office. She had discovered it was nearly impossible to ride her stationary bicycle using only her right leg. She was going stir crazy. Gimpy leg or not, Sarah had decided she was heading to work.
    Sarah drove east on Sutter Street. It wasn’t the fastest route, with all of the stops, but it was the simplest since her office was on Sutter near Taylor in one of San Francisco’s older office buildings. The lawyers at the downtown megafirms knew immediately from the address that her’s was a “second-tier” firm, housed in cheaper, less prestigious quarters than in the financial district where, with enough seniority, one could hope for a view of the San Francisco Bay. Sarah didn’t mind too much. She had tasted and rejected big firm life and was happy to have ended up at Cross & Roberts.
    The adjustment had taken some time, though. The “rumple factor,” as she called it, was a lot higher at Cross & Roberts than she had been accustomed to seeing. It had taken her a while to see managing partner Larry Roberts as a wily litigator whose skill and down home charm had endeared him to clients and an entire generation of the San Francisco bar, and not simply as a guy with bad dandruff, dirty ties and cheap suits. She thought it was a joke the first time another attorney suggested cocktails at a nearby culinary school where the hors d’oeuvres were prepared as class assignments.
    Sarah knew that the process of assimilation had taken some effort on the part of Cross & Roberts as well. She had arrived with all the trappings of a dilettante willing to sacrifice her position and salary to represent more deserving clients, but still keeping one foot in the fast lane.
    First, there was the Beemer. Then, there were her clothes, always professional but with just enough extra style to set her apart and mark her as a clothes horse. There was something else, too, a distance or reserve about her that others mistook for aloofness.
    The truth was that Sarah felt like she had been raised about as far from San Francisco as was possible – even if the distance between the City by the Bay and her small, dying home town in Nebraska looked tiny on the globe. Her father worked in a hardware store. Her mother worked part-time as a school nurse. Both were born again Christians who spent most evenings at their church and eschewed alcohol, movies, dancing and any social activities unrelated to church. They had expected Sarah to live by the same creed.
    Armstrong had bought the car used from her aunt. It had been a gift really, from a proud Miriam Gilbert to her niece who had graduated from law school with top honors and was following in her footsteps. A fashion expert would have pegged Sarah’s clothes as last year’s lines, often of no-name or mid-level brands. Sarah was a ruthless shopper who bought only on sale or at discount. She substituted creativity and her own sense of style for cash.
    Of course she never took her friends at Cross & Roberts shopping with her for the same reason she never discussed the origin of her car or the fact that she came from more modest means than anyone would have guessed: It was none of their damned business.
    As she pulled into the