[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
scream rent the air, petrifying in its intensity. Fridge pushed the woman away from him and ran toward the sound, drawing his pistol as he went. The door was locked. He backed off and kicked hard once, twice, and the lock peeled away from its rended frame. The door burst open. June had just managed to jerk loose from the man assaulting her and was running toward the door where he leaned his rifle. The edge of the door slapped her in the head as it flew open, knocking her down. When she saw the huge black man shove the door closed behind him, she began crying. Not two of them, she thought hysterically. Then she saw the gun he was holding. They're going to kill me when they're finished. Oh, Doug. We were so happy. She bowed her head, shedding bitter tears as she waited for them to finish stripping her. She was already bare to the waist. Her breasts had bright streaks fingernail scratches marring their surface. "You want some too, Fridge? Hold her for me first. I give her a piece of black meat, maybe she stop fighting. The guard's laugh halted abruptly as the flat of Fridge's calloused palm struck the side of his face with brutal force. He staggered backward and bounced off a wall. His eyes grew wide as Fridge advanced on him. Fridge's mind was harkening back to memories of how nice Doris Craddock had always been, how supportive of her husband's concern for the troops. Get your black ass out of here, Teacup. Any man have a need to rape a woman got something wrong in his head. No, wait. You tell the men The Fridge got this one marked for his own. Anybody diss her, they in a world of hurt. You hear?" June's assailant nodded, knowing Fridge never made idle threats. Before he let the man leave, Fridge removed the clip from his rifle and ejected the cartridge in the chamber. You get your ass out there and pass the word. I done had enough of this shit. It's one thing to fight a man when you think you got a reason. Raping helpless women not going to help anybody. Now git!" Fridge didn't worry when he turned his back on the man. He had seen the fear on his face. He looked around, spotted June's bra and blouse. He picked them up. Here, Mrs. Craddock. Get yourself covered and go back outside. Anybody bother you again, tell them the Fridge got you covered. He tried to smile at her but it was a caricature. June looked at him, dubious of his sincerity, but willing to go along. At the very least, he had saved her from being raped and most likely beaten. She turned her back and started to put on the bra, then saw that it had been wrenched from her body with enough force to bend the hooks before tearing them out of the fabric. She dropped it to the floor and pulled on the blouse. She had to hold it together for now and hope she could find a safety pin or two outside. She turned to face the big man who had saved her. Thank you, whoever you are. What ... how...?" "Never mind for now. Me and Doug go back a long time. He asked me to look for you. Finally Fridge did smile, but it was a very small one. Looks like I found you just in time. Go on out with the others now. I'll follow you." Suddenly the import of his words hit June like a blow. Doug! He's alive!" "He's alive, Fridge confirmed, urging her gently back through the doorway and out into the lobby. June returned to the captives with a freshened heart, despite the path taken to get there. Doug was alive! * * * * Doug wanted to see Johannsen alone. He made his way to the Science Building, limping painfully from his leg wound. The basement was a cavern, divided off into storage rooms, pallets of supplies, vaults and bare machinery that kept the building functioning. Doug had been there only once or twice doing security checks, but he knew the general layout. He waited a few moments on the service elevator but for some reason it seemed to be stuck at the basement level. Maybe the power outages had damaged some of the circuitry, he thought. Impatient, he took the stairs and hurried down them. He didn't trust Qualluf Taylor to wait on him too long. He pushed open the basement door and stopped in his tracks. A short, well muscled white man was dragging a body away that still had a knife hilt protruding from its back. Doug reacted almost immediately, but still almost lost his life. The moment he drew his gun and yelled Stop! the man dropped the body and flung himself sideways. He rolled, drawing a pistol and firing at the same time Doug did. Both of them missed with their first shots, but the other man was moving and Doug wasn't. He was able to take better aim. His second bullet cratered the man's forehead. Doug knew there had to be someone else around. Assassins coming into a facility like this one wouldn't be working alone and he knew intuitively that they must be after Johannsen. He ran for cover as soon as he saw that his shot had gone true. Gunfire rang out from behind an idle forklift as he ran. His quick movement saved him, but he didn't get away free He took a bullet in his upper left arm and as he fell, another in same leg where he had been wounded before. His assailant made a single mistake; he came out from cover too soon, thinking he had done a complete job. Doug had hung on to his pistol as he went down, knowing that if he dropped it, he was dead. He got off a quick snap shot that startled the gunman, then another that thudded into the man's stomach. He gasped and fell backward, clutching his middle. Doug approached cautiously, his left arm dangling numb and useless and limping from renewed pain in his leg. He looked first at his fallen foe, then around, then back at the sprawled figure of the man he had shot. He lay on his back with his arms outflung, twitching and sucking air as if trying to breathe. His weapon lay nearby, a small automatic. An assassin's weapon. He knew now why the two bullets hadn't done him more damage. Doug appropriated the other weapon, frisked the man awkwardly but quickly with one hand, then began searching for Johannsen. He found him in the third room he investigated. Doug didn't know at first which was the prisoner, but one of the men was certainly dead. He hoped it was the federal marshal. He bent over the other man and saw that he was still alive, though he had been shot through the chest. Somehow, it must have missed his heart and lungs for he stared hopefully up at Doug with glassy blue eyes set below long hair as yellow as ripe corn. "Are you Savak Johannsen?" "Yes. I'm hurt. He breathed heavily. Get a doctor." "In a minute. Tell me where the financing for the Harcourt virus came from." "It was your CIA. The director; I saw his name on some ... documents." "What documents? Where?" "I'll tell you. A doctor, please. His voice was weakening. Doug needed proof. Where are the documents? What did you see?" "Shane Stevenson. Charleston. House. In... His eyes rolled up and he lost consciousness. Doug thought of rushing up the stairs to find a doctor to try saving the lives of the men still breathing, but doubted he [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |