This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS . An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
Copyright © 2016 by David McCallum. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010. ONCE A CROOKED MAN.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com www.stmartins.com Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data (TK) ISBN 978-1-250-08045-5 (hardcover) ISBN 978-1-4668-9248-4 (e-book) Our books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com. First Edition: January 2016
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There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse. And they all lived together in a little crooked house.
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DAVID McCALLUM
Harry left extra time for the taxi ride to Kennedy Airport in an effort to avoid the rush-hour exodus from the city. As always, the Van Wyck was a parking lot. But check-in and security went relatively smoothly and he was able to get himself a bite to eat before it was time to board. At the gate he was delighted to find that due to overbooking he had been upgraded. This was clearly a sign that he had made the right decision to go and warn Colonel Villiers. The seat in Business Class had a series of levers that would angle the head, body and feet to any desired position. A touchscreen television and Bose headphones were provided for the inflight entertainment. As Harry sipped from the little plastic glass of champagne, he amused himself by reading the safety pamphlet telling what he should do if this massive plane came down unexpectedly in the Atlantic. “Good evening,” said a voice, soft and low. Harry looked up. Settling into the seat next to him was a woman with deep violet eyes. Elizabeth Taylor eyes. She wore a smart suit and a Hermès scarf. The current issue of Vanity Fair poked out from her carry-on. “Good evening,” he said, marveling at his good fortune. Harry took a moment to check out the other passengers in the cabin. Could one of them be on his way to eliminate the Colonel? And need a hired killer necessarily be a male? There had been several movies in the last few years with diabolical women assassins. Would she, or he, be traveling in Business? The more successful could certainly afford the comforts of First, but Economy would be the most anonymous. Then Harry reminded himself that what he was doing was not fiction but reality. He should stick to facts. Before takeoff, seat belts were fastened, the empty glasses were collected and everyone was made aware of the necessary safety
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instructions. The cabin gave a slight shudder, and right on schedule the big jet was pushed back from the gate and slowly trundled over the bumpy concrete like an elephant. But as the wheels left the runway the great jet flew into the air like an eagle. About twenty minutes later the Captain’s voice over the intercom announced they had reached their cruising altitude. Harry’s companion pushed the scarf from her head and said, “Excuse me.” “Of course,” he replied. “Do you know what time we land at Heathrow?” She had an odd accent that Harry couldn’t place. “About nine thirty,” he answered. She smiled her thanks revealing teeth that were toothpastecommercial material. She stretched out her hand. “Marisa Vargas.” Her hand was strong and cool. “Harry Murphy.” The flight attendant appeared with tablecloths and they both pulled out their trays. “Are you traveling on business?” Marisa asked, dropping the magazine at her feet. Harry took an instant to ponder the question. The last thing he wanted to talk about was show business. He was sipping champagne next to a drop-dead gorgeous woman en route to Europe. It was unlikely they would ever meet again. Here was an opportunity for a little fabrication. What could he be? Then he remembered, like the Blues Brothers, he was on a “mission from God.” “I’m in law enforcement,” he said confidentially. “Really?” The dusky way she replied gave him goose bumps. “INTERPOL?” “Well, not exactly,” he said, and added, “I’m with an agency that
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deals with a select number of cases that are out of the normal areas of police investigative work.” “Really?” She was impressed. “Drugs?” “Computer crime mostly.” Harry was on a roll. “The criminal mind has become smart and sophisticated. It’s tough to catch them these days.” “Is what you do dangerous?” she asked. He gave a slight shrug and smoothed out his tablecloth. “It’s a living.” As he had waited to board the flight Harry had passed the time reading an article in The Week describing the deplorable foreign-policy decisions of the current administration. All through dinner he talked fluidly about his work as an undercover operative, using plots and dialogue from scripts he’d done in the past. Two more glasses of champagne and two of Sangiovese oiled his willing tongue. Marisa was a good listener. The creative fiction only ended when the overhead lights were darkened for the movie. The efforts of the last two days and the flickering images on the screen combined to lull Harry into a deep sleep…
Once a Crooked Man will be released January 12, 2016, and is available for pre-order now.
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