Black Friday (or Black Market) - James Patterson [103]
“Mr. Carroll, judging from the tone of your voice, I think maybe you’re getting- a little out of order,” General Thompson said in a voice that remained low, perfectly in control.
“Yeah, well, I do that sometimes. Fourth point. The last thing that bothers me. Really frosts me… Why was I followed from the Pentagon last night, General? … Why was I followed out here to McLean, General? On whose orders? What the hell is going on here in Washington?”
General Lucas Thompson’s shiny, clean-shaven cheeks, his crinkle-cut neck blossomed bright red. “Mr. Carroll, I think you’d better leave. I believe that would be the best for all concerned.”
“You know, I think you’re probably right. I think I’d be wasting my time here…. General, I think you know a whole lot more about Colonel Hudson, though. That’s what I think.”
General Thompson smiled, just a faint condescending twist of his upper lip. “That’s the unappreciated beauty of our country, Mr. Carroll. It’s free. You can think whatever you like I’ll show you to the door.”
Chapter 75
ON THE MORNING OF December 17 in New York, David Hudson was feeling more self-conscious about his affliction than he had in years.
Clutching Billie Bogan with his good arm, he steered her in a protective manner through an onrushing tide of people on Fifth Avenue. He didn’t want to think about the resumption of Green Band—not for a few more hours anyway.
David Hudson’s self-consciousness was particularly unnecessary that morning. The two of them, paired together, were striking. They looked as if they’d been painted with thick, bold strokes—while everyone else had been lightly drawn by pencil or pen.
Billie Bogan watched David from the corner of her eye; so very serious charting their appointed path through the crowd. She felt an odd but growing fascination. That he was obviously taken with her made the attraction she felt much more irresistible. She allowed herself to be pulled forward…
Toward whatever was looming up ahead.
Where were they headed anyway?
“Are you a Christmas lover?” Billie asked, as they moved ahead through the cold flat knife of the winter day around them.
“Oh, it depends on the Christmas. This Christmas, I have a strange passion for the season… I want to drink in the sights: the evergreen trees and the holiday wreaths, the glimmering store windows, Santa Clauses, churches, choral music.”
“You do seem to go all the way on things,” she lightly teased Hudson.
“Or not at all. Just look at this insanity! This wonderful monstrosity!” He suddenly whooped and grinned broadly. It was quite unlike his usual self, at least the part she’d seen.
They’d finally come up close to the glittering, extravagantly overdecorated Rockefeller Center tree. A crowd, lovers mostly, from college aged to quite elderly, was clustered over the top of the skating rink and attached restaurant. A small boys’ choir, innocent in cassock and surplice, sang the loveliest carols down below.
Colonel Hudson’s brain had finally slowed; he was relaxed and relatively comfortable right now. An exceedingly rare treat. To be savored.
He occasionally felt a stab of guilt about his mission, about losing concentration, but he knew the release of tension could be valuable, too.
“Do you miss your family, your home? Being away from England during the holidays?” he asked.
He and Billie caught one another’s eyes, and held on for a long few seconds. As it had been with the two of them from the start, they seemed almost alone now. In spite of the shoving masses crowding the square.
“I miss certain incidents from the past.… Some charming things about my sister, my mother. I don’t miss home too much, no. Life in the Midlands. Birmingham is one of those places from which all the young people, all the reasonably bright ones, want to get away…
“If you remain in Birmingham, you work for British Steel, or perhaps the new exhibition center. Once you marry, you stay home with your brood. Watch the new