Free The Bourne ultimatum by Robert Ludlum

colleges, and, to make it worse, a popular Washington socialite who contributed her salary to some la-di-da dance company whose members pranced around in their underwear when they wore any.
    “ Hog damn !” fumed Culver, running his hand through his fringed gray hair; he picked up the telephone and poked four digits on his console. “Gimme the Redhead, you sweet thing,” he intoned, exaggerating his already pronounced Georgia accent.
    “Yes, sir ,” said the flattered secretary. “He’s on another line but I’ll interrupt. Just hold on a sec, Mr. Parnell.”
    “You’re the loveliest of the peaches, lovely child.”
    “Oh, golly, thank you! Now just hold on .”
    It never failed, mused Culver. A little soft oil from the magnolia worked a hell of a lot better than the bark of a gnarled oak. That bitch of a first assistant of his might take a lesson from her Southern superiors; she talked like some Yankee dentist had bonded her fucking teeth together with permanent cement.
    “That you, Cull?” came the voice of Redhead over the line, intruding on Parnell’s thoughts as he wrote a seventh obscenity on the legal pad.
    “You’re momma-letchin’ right, boy, and we got a problem ! The fricassee bitch is doin’ it again. I got our Wall Streeters inked in for a table at the reception on the twenty-fifth, the one for the new French ambassador and she says we gotta bump ’em for some core-dee-ballet fruitcakes—she says she and the First Lady feel mighty strong about it. Shee-it ! Those money boys gotta lot of French interests goin’ for them, and this White House bash could put ’em on top. Every frog on the Bourse will think they got the ears of the whole town here!”
    “Forget it, Cull,” broke in the anxious Redhead, “We may have a bigger problem, and I don’t know what it means.”
    “What’s that?”
    “When we were back in Saigon, did you ever hear of something or someone called Snake Lady?”
    “I heard a hell of a lot about snake eyes,” chuckled Parnell, “but no Snake Lady. Why?”
    “The fellow I was just talking to—he’s going to call back in five minutes—sounded as though he was threatening me. I mean actually threatening me, Cull! He mentioned Saigon and implied that something terrible happened back then and repeated the name Snake Lady several times as if I should have run for cover.”
    “You leave that son of a bitch to me !” roared Parnell, interrupting. “I know exactly what that bastard’s talking about! This is that snotty bitch first assistant of mine— that’s the fuckin’ Snake Lady! You give that slug worm my number and tell him I know all about his horseshit!”
    “Will you please tell me , Cull?”
    “What the hell, you were there, Redhead. ... So we had a few games going, even a few mini casinos, and some clowns lost a couple of shirts, but there was nothin’ soldiers haven’t done since they threw craps for Christ’s clothes ! ... We just put it on a higher plane and maybe tossed in a few broads who’d have been walkin’ the streets anyway. ... No, Redhead, that elegant-ass, so-called assistant thinks she’s got somethin’ on me—that’s why she’s goin’ through you, ’cause everybody knows we’re buddies. ... You tell that slime to call me and I’ll settle his grits along with that bitch’s twat! Oh , boy, she made a wrong move! My Wall Streeters are in and her pansies are out !”
    “Okay, Cull, I’ll simply refer him to you,” said the Redhead, otherwise known as the vice president of the United States, as he hung up the phone.
    It rang four minutes later and the words were spat out at Parnell. “ Snake Lady , Culver, and we’re all in trouble!”
    “No, you listen to me, Divot Head, and I’ll tell you who’s in trouble! She’s no lady, she’s a bitch ! One of her thirty or forty eunuch husbands may have thrown a few snake eyes in Saigon and lost some of her well-advertised come-and-take-me cash, but nobody gave a shit then and