You Have Yourself a Deal

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Captain O’Halloran parked his Jeep in one of the bays in the courtyard of the United States Embassy, picked up a black leather briefcase on the seat beside him, slid his big frame out of the Jeep and walked briskly up the steps leading into the Embassy. He nodded to the man behind the reception desk, took the elevator to the second floor, walked down a corridor, climbed six stairs to another level as a tall, well-built woman of thirty-five or six came hurrying towards him. She was Marcia Davis, P.A. to the Head of the Paris Division of the C.I.A. Her face lit up with a smile as O’Halloran paused. Her grey eyes ran swiftly over him. His red, fleshy face, his shapeless nose, his light blue eyes and hard mouth always gave her a slight sinking feeling. She often speculated what it would be like to be gripped in those thick, muscular arms.

“Hello, Tim,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“The old man in?” O’Halloran asked, also speculating how this attractive redheaded woman would react if he were ever lucky enough to get her into his bed.

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