Free THE SPANISH REVENGE (Craig Page series) by Allan Topol Page A

trying to establish his identity.”
    “But you have someone in custody.”
    “He killed himself before he could be captured.”
    Jean Claude didn’t seem surprised. Had Alvarez told him that as well?
    “How did that happen?”
    “He shot himself.”
    “Well what did he look like?”
    “As I said, we’re still trying to establish his identity.”
    Craig had enough of this interview. He decided to end strong. “I wish to emphasize that my agency, in coordination with the Spanish and other EU governments, is making every conceivable effort to find and punish the perpetrators of this heinous crime. At the same time, we have stepped up our vigilance to prevent another attack. Now I must go back to work.”
    Craig unhooked his microphone clarifying that he wouldn’t take any more questions.
    As soon as the cameras cut away, he made a beeline for Marie and led her into a vacant office. He was glaring at her. “You should have let me hear the tape before the interview. That was outrageous. All you care about is your story. Whatever gets your ratings up. You have no moral compass.”
    She was glaring right back. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”
    “And you withheld critical evidence from law enforcement officials. I can have you prosecuted under French law.” He was raising his voice.
    “We’re not withholding anything. We only received the tape a little while ago. I wanted to confirm with you that it was genuine.”
    “Bullshit. You wanted to sandbag me.” He held out his hand. “I want the tape now or I’ll get a court order.”
    “Give me a minute.”
    She left him standing there and returned a few minutes later holding a CD which she handed to him. “This is the original we made. I prepared a copy which we’re keeping. This one has the best sound quality.”
    Craig’s anger was tempered by one cold, clear fact. In his effortto use the media to boast about his success, the man calling himself Musa Ben Abdil had given Craig his first clue at finding his identity and locating him. Sure the voice was garbled. But maybe it was his. If not, one of his confidantes. And if they could identify the voice, they had a real lead.

11
    CAP D’ ANTIBES, FRANCE
    General Zhou stood on the balcony of his luxurious estate, blowing smoke into the air from a Cuban cigar and looking at the sparkling lights of the Mediterranean a mile below. He had a clear view between the tall pines that lined the two sides of his property and the red clay tennis court between them. Yachts were gently bobbing in the water. In October the movie stars and other celebrities were gone. The crowds, too.
    This place is a bit of heaven, he thought. We have nothing like it in China. He should be grateful for being able to split his time between this house and the comfortable apartment in Paris. Not to mention having unlimited money forwarded by his brother, Zhou Yun, one of the most successful industrialists in China. And gorgeous, sensuous Androshka. Not much competition in tennis, but far more important, after a year and a half, she still drove him wild in bed. Men would give anything for a life like this.
    But he was still miserable. He wanted to be back in China. More than that, he wanted to replace President Li as the head of the Chinese government. One day, before long, he would do that. His brother would tell him when to make his move and return with the support of military leaders with whom he regularly communicated. Meantime, he was painfully aware every day of his gilded life that he was in exile.
    Ah, the bitterness of exile.
    He never forgot who was responsible for his banishment: That bastard, Craig Page.
    If it weren’t for Page, General Zhou’s ingenious plan for Operation Dragon Oil would have succeeded. He would now be in Beijing. Praised and revered by the entire Chinese nation. A hero without equal. A military genius embarking on conquests to exceed Caesar or Napoleon.
    But Page had foiled Operation Dragon Oil. Exile was