Dirty Harry 01 - Duel For Cannons Read Online Free PDF

went back downstairs.
    “Find anything?” Williamson asked.
    “Nope,” Harry replied.
    “Where are those reports?” shouted Lieutenant Al Bressler out the open door of his office.
    “Which reports?” asked Sergeant Reineke from his desk.
    “The reports . . . you know the reports,” Bressler sputtered, waving his arms in little circular motions over his desk.
    “The ones on the Kleindale Jewelry heist?” asked Reineke. The lieutenant shook his head. “The Allegra shooting?” Bressler shook his head again. “The Wilson stabbing?”
    “No, you know . . . come on . . . the ones about the suicide thing . . . in Texas.”
    “Oh yeah, the Tucker case,” acknowledged Reineke. “Harry’s got ’em.”
    Bressler threw his hands up and stormed out of his office. He quickly walked in between the sergeants’ desks and moved down the man-made hallway toward the inspectors’ offices.
    The world may keep turning, Bressler thought as he marched past different squad rooms, but some things never change. Like the San Francisco homicide office. It was still on the seventh floor of the Justice Building, it was still in suite #750 and, no matter how they changed the desks, or how many partitions they moved in, the ambience stayed the same. Too much smoke, too many junk food wrappers, and too big a stink from Vitalis, Right Guard and bad booze. The custodians try, God love them but they only make the offices smell like the inside of a Band-Aid two days after.
    Bressler came to Harry’s office cubicle and stuck his head in. The only one there was Frank DiGeorgio, who was reading a 1977 issue of Playboy.
    “Where’s Callahan?” the lieutenant asked.
    DiGeorgio jerked in his chair, the magazine nearly hopping out of his hands. When he saw it was Bressler doing the asking he swallowed the curse that leaped to his lips and collected himself. “Down in Missing Persons, I think” was what he finally said.
    Bressler nodded. “Good article?” he asked before he left.
    “Article?” DiGeorgio replied. “Oh yeah. Right. Good article.”
    The lieutenant should’ve chewed DiGeorgio out, and he would have if it had been anyone else, but being Harry Callahan’s partner was dangerous enough. That was something else that never changed. DiGeorgio was the only one out of six partners to last more than one case. That’s why they called Callahan duty the “suicide seat.” Only DiGeorgio seemed to have the sense and the timing to get out of Harry’s way when he played superhero.
    It was Harry himself who always seemed to need the chewing out. That was the only way Bressler knew of controlling him, besides giving him plenty of rope and hoping he didn’t choke on it.
    After all Harry’s tragedies, Bressler mused, it was amazing Harry could be controlled at all. First his wife was killed in a meaningless traffic accident, then there was the “Scorpio” affair where Harry threw away his badge, and recently that terrorist fiasco where DiGeorgio was stabbed and Harry lost his fifth partner; a woman.
    And through it all, Harry just kept getting better and better and more and more professional. The “Vigilante Cop” mess probably had something to do with that, Bressler figured. Callahan really had to examine his M.O. during that case.
    So now, if anything, Harry was even more devastating in the field. It was just a matter of utilizing him properly. After all their years together, Bressler considered himself the Callahan expert. Unfortunately the various captains, commissioners, and mayors that came and went couldn’t claim the same.
    Bressler hopped into the elevator and rode down to the fourth floor. He found Harry in suite #436, sitting in Ron Caputo’s seat while Ron stood by, staring over Callahan’s shoulder.
    “What are you doing, Harry?” Bressler boomed, a grin on his face, “Bucking for a transfer? Harry Callahan, tracer of lost persons. That has a nice ring to it.”
    Harry said nothing, just grimaced and kept reading