Read The Death Trade for Free Online

door open, and ran to join him, arriving just after him. As he entered, Declan was immediately aware of a woman singing.
    â€”
    E arlier, Dillon and Sara had been greeted by the sound of a great driving piano backed by a trio. Most people had faded away at the lateness of the hour, just a couple of dozen aficionados left. Dillon was welcomed at once by the gray-haired black piano player, who called to them.
    â€œHey, Dillon, my man, get up here. Who have you got there, old buddy?”
    â€œMy very special date. A captain in the British Army.”
    The pianist leaned over, still playing, and kissed her on the cheek.
    â€œThat can’t be right. This rascal is IRA. Those guys never retire. Once in, never out, ain’t that so, Dillon?”
    Dillon said to Sara, “Jacko St. Clair, off a boat from New Orleans.”
    â€œThat’s true, honey, only it was about thirty years ago. Are you for real? Is it true what he says?”
    â€œI’m afraid so,” she told him.
    Dillon cut in, “She’s got a great voice, Jacko.”
    â€œYou mean she sings with you? Some of that cocktail bar stuff?”
    â€œTell the barman that, for this time only, we’ll do it for free.”
    Jacko got up. “Be my guest.”
    Dillon sat down, nodded at the trio, and smiled at Sara. “Show them what you’ve got, I’ll do the intro strong, just so you get used to it.” He turned to the trio. “You get that, guys? Then we’ll do it again with her joining in. Just remember, Sara, the hero of Abusan can do anything.”
    His hands moved into the driving rhythm of Cole Porter’s “Night and Day,” and as Sara swept in powerfully, people in the audience started to clap. The outside door swung open with a crash. Yousef Khan stumbled, fell on his knees, and then turned and grabbed at Declan Rashid, pulling himself up.
    â€œWhat’s going on, and why is that silly bitch making such a row?”
    Declan said, “Remember your manners. We’re leaving now.”
    Yousef slapped him in the face, snarling, “You stupid Bedu peasant, why don’t you stumble out of here and find some goats to milk?”
    Sara, who had stopped singing, moved close to him, followed by Dillon. “The only one getting out of here is you, you piece of camel dung,” she told Yousef in Farsi.
    He pulled away from Declan and tried to grab her. Immediately, a Colt .25 was in her right hand and rammed up under his chin. A warrant card was produced from her left pocket and held high for the audience to see.
    â€œDo I have to arrest him, Colonel, or can you persuade him to go? I’m an officer of the Security Services.”
    Rasoul appeared in the open doorway, the ugly scarred face intimidating. “What’s going on?”
    Declan ignored him and said to her, “I’m sorry for this trouble.”
    â€œNot as much as he is,” she said. “I believe he’s wet himself.”
    â€œDamn you, whore.” Yousef’s drunken rage boiled over and he struggled to get at her.
    Declan pulled him around and shook him. “Control yourself, fool.” Yousef spat in his face and Declan hit him very hard, a short and sharp punch, catching him as Yousef’s eyes rolled and he started to slide.
    Rasoul was outraged. “How dare you do that? His father shall hear of it.”
    â€œI’m frightened to death,” Declan told him and shoved Yousef into the big man’s arms. “Get him out of here, put him in my car, and wait for me.”
    Rasoul hesitated, then pulled Yousef up over his right shoulder, and Declan turned to Sara and Dillon. “You are a remarkable lady. I won’t forget you.”
    â€œOr we you, Colonel.” That’s a mean right hand you’ve got there,” Dillon told him. He grinned at Sara. “Ferguson ought to hire him.”
    â€œYour lesson may even do that young man some good,” Sara