Assault on Soho Read Online Free PDF Page A

fun out of sin, what?"
    When they arrived at the other end, Bolan thanked him, delivered an offhand apology for the shattered television camera, then he climbed an iron ladder and lifted himself to the surface.
    Charles, his face dimly illumined in the side glow of a pocket flashlight, was peering up at him with considerable anxiety. "Remember to look before you leap, Yank," he called up.
    Grinning, Bolan replied, "Okay, I'll remember that, Brigadier."
    "This crackling museum of ours. You should realize that it has a deeper meaning, quite aside from its obvious purpose. It's a symbol of
our
times, Bolan. Remember that.
Our
times."
    Bolan's grin faded. He gave a curt wave and lowered the door on the concerned face. What, he wondered, prompted a grand old man like this into such questionable activities? He should be sitting out his days in a quiet clubroom somewhere, recounting the glories of days gone by. Instead, he played Secret Agent at a house of kinks.
    Bolan shook Charles out of his mind and took up the problem at hand. He was in the basement of another building situated directly opposite the
Museum de Sade
. The Sades operated this establishment, too. It was a book store and sexprop shop. A dim yellow bulb revealed the basement was a storeroom, with cartons of merchandise stacked about rather haphazardly. Bolan went up the flight of rickety stairs, found a key where Charles had assured him he would, and let himself into the shop. Here was utter darkness, except for a limited penetration of street light through the windows up front.
    Bolan moved quietly to the edge of darkness and took up a patient surveillance of activities outside. The fog was gone, except as a faintly visible pall hanging just above the rooftops. A half-dozen regularly spaced street lamps broke the darkness here and there about the square without actually relieving it. After several minutes of watchful waiting, someone just outside the shop but out of Bolan's range of vision lit a cigarette. Bolan saw the glow from the match and seconds later a puff of smoke drifting past the window. The guy was close.
    Some minutes later a large car cruised past, moving slowly. It was an American make, quickly identified by Bolan as a Lincoln. Four, perhaps five persons were inside. Bolan's attention was drawn to a large spotlight mounted on the driver's side. These boys were a hunting party.
    Shortly after the vehicle moved out of view, a man sauntered into the light of a street lamp across the way, seemed to consult a wrist watch, then he too faded into the darkness.
    Yeah, it was a hard set.
    The Lincoln returned some moments later and halted on Bolan's side of the square, out of his field of vision. A large man with thick shoulders immediately strolled past the shop, barely ten feet from Bolan's position, and disappeared in the direction of the vehicle. Almost at the same moment, the door opened at the
Museum de Sade
and Ann Franklin came out. Bolan watched her tensely, wondering about her reception by those waiting in the street. She crossed the traffic circle and halted in the small park at the center, standing beneath a street lamp. She seemed to be looking toward the bookshop; Charles had told her, no doubt, of Bolan's mode of exit.
    Bolan fidgeted and watched the girl. What the hell was she trying to do? As he watched, a man came out of the darkness walking directly toward the girl. He made a close pass and went on by, Ann swiveling to watch him out of sight. Had they spoken? Bolan could not tell; it had appeared not.
    Seconds later a taxicab eased into the circle and halted alongside the girl. She entered and the cab went on. A moment later another vehicle which Bolan had not seen earlier swung into view and circled around to fall in behind the taxi.
    No, she had not spoken. They'd made an identity pass, pulled the make, and were now following her. They were missing no bets.
    Nor was Bolan. His quiet surveillance had gained him a rather valid impression of