Scratch One (Hard Case Crime)
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To prevent an arms shipment from reaching the Middle East a terrorist group has been carrying out targeted assassinations in Egypt...Portugal...Denmark...France. In response, the United States sends one of its deadliest agents to take the killers down.
But when the agent is delayed in transit, lawyer Roger Carr gets mistaken for him. Now, with some of the world's deadliest men after him, will he survive long enough to prove his identity?
should want to get into his room. After all, he had ditched her, quite firmly and rudely. She giggled again. “Are you all right? You keep making funny noises.” “Why deed you leave me?” “I was tired,” he said. The accent was getting him down. He wanted to go to sleep. “How tired?” “Too tired,” he said, a little sharply. “I do not beelieve you.” She sat up in bed, and began undressing. “No?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because …” She paused reflectively, a hand on her zipper. “Because I do not.”
course?” he asked. “Oh, yes.” A waiter came with a bottle of rosé wine in an ice bucket. “I can’t do this very often,” she said. “Have to watch my weight.” “You’re joking,” Carr said, remembering the slim body on the sand. “I would have thought you’re the type that never has to diet.” “Not a chance,” she said, chewing on a crayfish. Her blond hair fell over her face, catching the sun. “I normally live on fruit, lettuce, and diluted water—plus three hours of hard exercise a day. Have to. The
said, holding it under the desk lamp. “It is a finger.” Carr waited. “Isn’t that amazing!” “Yes,” Carr said. “Is that all?” “Isn’t that enough?” “I meant, was there anything else—any further incidents?” “No. I came straight here after I received the package. There was this note with it.” Gorman took the note. Then there was a buzz from the intercom. “Yes?” Gorman said. “Amory on line one,” the secretary said. “Eggs.” “All right.” Gorman picked up the phone. Eggs meant that he would
was something. He strolled around to the drive and surveyed the parked cars. One was his little Alfa two-seater, standing with the top up; Liseau, no doubt, had the keys to that. The second was Liseau’s silver Ferrari, looking lithe and powerful. The third was a yellow Renault Dauphine. That, he thought, would be the maid’s car. He did not think anyone was watching him, but he moved carefully. Hands in his pockets, he wandered over to the Alfa, which he regarded with proprietary interest. He
one side were three glass-walled ovens. Liseau must do a great deal of entertaining, he thought. The maid worked at one of the sinks, shelling peas. Carr tiptoed up and kissed her lightly on the nape of the neck, just below her short-cropped hair. “Oh!” She dropped a handful of peas in surprise. “Monsieur Carr! It’s you.” “Josette,” he said. “You must call me Roger. I’d like to know you better.” “Avec plaisir—Roger.” She rolled the r charmingly, and looked at her feet in a reasonable