Deadly in New York Read Online Free PDF Page A

two ideas.
    So, with an unemotional “good luck” and “safe journey,” Hendricks had flown off to London, while Hawker took TWA to New York.
    Hawker had expected action, but he hadn’t planned on having to use his Colt Commander so soon.
    From his duffel bag, he took one of the eight-round clips and fixed it snug into the grip. Then he slid a round into the chamber and locked in the safety.
    Hawker glanced out the rear window. The Lincoln was staying a more conservative distance behind them now, trying to blend into the darkness and the traffic.
    Through the hole in the glass partition, Hawker ordered, “Put some more distance between us. When we get to the back side of Rhinestrauss, I want to get out without being seen. After I’m gone, I want you to circle around and stop in front of the address I gave you, as if you’d just let me out. Got it?”
    The driver looked offended. “I look dumb or something to you, mister? Hell, yes, I got it—but I ain’t doing a thing till I get me that other twenty.”
    Hawker smiled and settled back. He wore a dark-blue Cuban shirt and white deck pants. He considered changing out of the pants into something less visible.
    He decided not to bother.
    The driver raced north on the Bronx River Parkway, then swung off abruptly on the Gun Hill Road exit. Five blocks later, he made a quick right, then a quicker left. He skidded to a halt and threw open the door.
    â€œYour address is straight through those houses,” he said, pointing. “I’ll pull around there just like you said—but I got to hurry. The Lincon ain’t far behind.”
    Hawker stuffed the second twenty in the man’s hand, grabbed his duffel bag, and slammed the door.
    The driver grinned as he skidded away, yelling, “Good luck, buddy. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get mugged before those dudes in the Lincoln catch you!”
    Hawker disappeared into the shadows just before the Lincoln squealed around the corner. He watched the limousine follow the taxi down the block, then turn west toward Rhinestrauss Avenue.
    Hawker made his way down an alley squeezed between two deserted tenements. Someone had strung across a chain-link fence and posted a city proclamation of condemnation.
    Hawker vaulted over the fence and sprinted toward the street where, between two somber brownstones, he could see the taxi slowing. He got to Rhinestrauss just before the Lincoln did.
    He stood in the shadows, waiting.
    The black taxi driver made a show of slamming the trunk shut—as if Hawker had just exited into the brownstone across the street.
    The Lincoln slowed behind the taxi, then stopped.
    Hawker assumed the men inside would wait until the taxi was gone, then go into the brownstone, looking for him. He planned to follow them in and take them from behind.
    He didn’t want any gunplay—not this soon. Hopefully, he would be able to take them alive and slap some information out of them before turning them over to the cops.
    But Hawker’s assumptions were all wrong.
    The men in the Lincoln didn’t wait until the taxi had pulled away.
    Instead, three of the four doors swung open, and the men who exited stood facing the taxi driver.
    The three of them wore dark suits, with hats pulled down low on their heads. All held automatic weapons.
    Hawker watched the taxi driver’s face tighten. “What the hell you dudes think you’re doin’, pointing them guns at me?” he bluffed, putting on a brave front.
    â€œWhere is he?” one of the men demanded.
    â€œIf you mean that dude I just brung from LaGuardia, he done went into that there house. I don’t know nothin’ more.”
    â€œYou’re lying!” the man snapped. “Where’d you let him off?”
    The taxi driver tilted his hat back on his head. “It’s just like I told you, mister man—”
    Hawker thought they’d give him one more chance to