Read The Echelon Vendetta for Free Online Page B

prettied up a bit?”
    “Jack, you buy him a steel casket and weld the lid shut unless you want to see the funeral guests puking into the flowerpots. Haven’t we got anybody in London Center who could do this up right?”
    “Mandy Pownall. She knows the family pretty well. I guess we could send her.”
    “She’ll need a case of Cristal and some major meds.”
    “She’ll have them.”
    “And a couple of handlers for the girls. They’re a treat.”
    “I’ve never met them.”
    “Good decision. Now, how about it?”
    While Stallworth was working out the many ways in which he could come to bitterly regret saying yes, Dalton poured some more wine into the glass and watched the tour guide girl coming back along the Riva. Her thighs remained wonderfully mystical and now
    the echelon vendetta | 35
    her hapless Hindu tourists were liberally dappled with variegated tones of pigeon shit. She had the kind of look on her strong young face that said My work here is through.
    “All right. I admit I’d like to know what kind of drug could make a pro like Naumann go batshit. We’d have a tactical interest in something like that. Go to Cortona. Toss his room at the Strega. And make sure you get a clean copy of the toxicology report. Not just a verbal description. And see to it that they don’t lose the tissue and blood samples. If you can, have them handed over to you before you leave. Tell Brancati that Naumann’s insurance policy requires an independent medical exam before they can release any funds to the family. And Micah, hear me on this—”
    “I live to serve, Jack.”
    “Whatever you get—anything at all that looks weird to you, anything that catches your eye—it comes straight to me. Person to person. No messages. No e-mail. Verbal report to me direct. Got that?”
    “What about Sally?”
    “Not even her. No reflection. But that’s the way it is. Got that?”
    “How could I miss it?”
    “I know it sounds hinky. But this comes from the Vicar himself.”
    “A policy thing?”
    “He said it was. If Deacon Cather farts, farting becomes policy.”
    “Is Cather personally interested in Naumann?”
    “No. It’s a general order. Cleaners talk only to their handlers.”
    “Has he asked about Naumann?”
    “Yes. He’ll see the synopsis once you file your report. He sits on the Losses board. But we’re losing a lot of field guys these days, thanks to our lovely little War on Terror. Just do what you can. Make sure there’s nothing I have to worry about. File it direct to me, every detail you get, no matter how pointless. Send it by diplomatic courier, sealed, paper only, no copies, and my eyes only.”
    36 | david stone
    “This directive from the Vicar too?”
    “Like I said. It’s policy. Then go back to London and take it easy for a while. You follow?”
    “About the hostel, I can’t get into it until tomorrow.”
    “So do it tomorrow. Tonight, stay out of trouble.”
    “I’m in Venice. It’s an island. What can I do on an island?”
    “Cuba was an island too, and look what you did there. Gotta go.”
    “Jack . . . ask Mandy Pownall to be gentle with Joanne. She was once something to write your mommy about.”
    “My mommy died in a knife fight. They buried her in an oil drum.”
    “I was speaking metaphorically.”
    “Well don’t.”
    THAT EVENING, against Stallworth’s better judgment, Dalton went for a stroll. Venice was cool but not cold, with a few early stars glittering in a cobalt sky, and the canals were, mercifully, reeking only a little. Dalton wandered aimlessly along the ins and outs of the Riva with the eventual goal of a dinner at Ristorante Carovita. He smoked a couple of Toscanos on the way to sharpen his appetite, idly harassed a mime who was pretending to be a white marble statue, and bought a little ruby-colored Murano glass heart to send to Laura. It was their tenth anniversary next week. Maybe she’d remember who he was if she got a ruby glass heart from Italy. Probably