Cuba (65 page)

university as the bus accelerated away in

a cloud of diesel exhaust.

He had a map in his hip pocket, but he had

studied it so much he didn’t need to refer to it today.

He strolled along, readily recognized the

student union, and went from there.

The buildings were built all of. a pattern, and with

throngs of students coming and going, seemed to proclaim

the glory of man’s quest for knowledge in the bright

November sunshine.

Carmellini glanced at his watch a time or two,

then strolled along with his hands in his pockets. He

found the building he wanted, opened the door, and

went in. He took the stairs up to the top

floor.

The hallway was lined with doors, lots of doors.

He walked along, examining them. Each door

bore the name of a faculty member, and most had a

small card advertising the faculty member’s

office hours taped to the frosted glass.

He found the one he wanted, checked the hours. He

was early, by ten minutes.

He knocked.

No answer.

Should he wait here in the hallway, or … perhaps the

library? The hallway was empty, but

someone could come along at any moment.

Of course the professor might not come at all.

Carmellini recalled his own college days: a

student could spend weeks trying to waylay a tenured

associate professor in his office.

Well, if this didn’t work he would try something

else. Just what, he didn’t know.

He decided on the library. He turned and started

down the hall. He had taken three or disfour

steps when disthe door opened behind him and a man in his

sixties stuck his head out.

“Did you knock?”. “Yes.”

“Got a watch? Can you read? Office hours

don’t start for ten minutes.”

“Yes, but”

“Oh, come on in.”

Carmellini carefully closed the door behind him. The

office was tiny, merely a cubbyhole with a desk and

computer for the professor and one extra chair.

Bookshelves filled with books lined both side

walls. A shelf under the window behind the professor

was piled willy-nilly with papers, manuscripts,

files. The glass in the window didn’t look as

if it had been cleaned in years.

“If this is about your thesis, we’re going

to need more time than I have available today, so”

“You’re Professor Svenson, right?”

“That’s right.”…The professor had seated himself behind his

desk. He looked up into Carmellini’s face and

adjusted his glasses. His features twisted into a

frown.

“Your face doesn’t… You’re …?”

“Your name is Olaf Svenson?”

“What do you want?”

Tommy Carmellini unzipped the backpack,

pulled out

the pistol with the silencer. He thumbed off the

safety.

A look of terror crossed Svenson’s face.

“The government has no evidenceea”…he said. “They

decided not to prosecute. They”

Tommy Carmellini shot Olaf Svenson in the

center of the forehead from a distance of four feet.

Svenson collapsed in his chair, his head tilted

back.

Carmellini stepped around the desk, put the muzzle

of the silencer against the side of the professor’s head

and pulled the trigger twice more. Two little pops.

He bent down, retrieved the spent cartridges that

had been ejected from the pistol, pocketed

them, then safetied the weapon and returned it to his

backpack.

He had touched only the doorknob. He

extracted a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the

interior knob carefully, then pulled the door

open. He pushed the little button to lock the door,

then stepped into the hallway and pulled it shut. One

hard twist of the cotton handkerchief on the outside

knob, then he was walking away down the hallway and

no one could ever prove he had been there.

Surrounded by young adults strolling, laughing, and

visiting with each other on the sun-dappled grass,

Tommy Carmellini walked across the campus with his

head down, the backpack over his shoulder, thinking of

Cuba.

Visiting the former British province, Admiral

Jake Grafton becomes embroiled in a

volatile conspiracy that will threaten the fate of a

nation, the security of the free world, and the future of his

own family . . .

HONG KONG

By Stephen Coonts

After a series of political murders shakes

Hong Kong’s establishment to its core, paranoid

government forces shut down a faltering

bank. Subsequent riots trigger brutal

military crackdowns, leaving China’s position in

the coveted province anything but certain.

When shadowy conspirators abduct his wife,

Admiral Grafton must throw himself headlong into the

swirling intrigue that has engulfed the city. Only

by allying with Tommy Carmellinithe CIA

super-sleuth from CUBA-AND with a clandestine army of

Chinese patriots, can Grafton fight to the

shores of totalitarianism’s last bastion . . .

and hope to ever again see the woman he loves.

HONG KONG

The explosive new thriller from Stephen

Coonts. Look for it in hardcover this September

from St. Martin’s Press.

HK3/00