Dirty Harry 10 - The Blood of Strangers Read Online Free PDF Page A

going.
    “Hello, this is Ellie Winston, who am I speaking to, please?”
    “My name is not important,” said a man in a voice that had a slight accent, but just what kind of accent Ellie could not immediately discern. “All that matters is that I am a representative of the Alpha Group. This morning we destroyed the international terminal at San Francisco Airport and while we deeply regret the loss of life that resulted, we must point out that in this war there are no innocent victims, there can never be innocent victims. Without violence, we would remain ignored or ridiculed. We cannot allow that, do you understand? We are striking for the rights of oppressed peoples everywhere, for those who suffer from exploitation and the imperialism of the United States and its big business surrogates. Tomorrow you shall receive a manifesto which will state our objectives and offer a resolution to the problem confronting us. All the news media will have this manifesto in their hands by noon. All the news media will be obliged to publicize our manifesto without comment, without alteration, or otherwise we cannot be held responsible for the consequences. Is that understood?”
    Unable to get a word in edgewise throughout the anonymous caller’s entire statement, Ellie now said, “I am not sure anything’s understood.”
    “It will be,” the caller said cryptically. “Good day, Miss Winston.”
    “Now, wait a min . . .”
    It was too late. He had already hung up.
    “Did you get that, Jimmy?”
    The assistant dutifully pressed rewind, then the play button. He’d gotten all of it.
    “And what do you make of it?”
    “I think he’s crazy. What the hell is the Alpha Group?”
    “Beats me, never heard of It before.”
    “You think he’s for real?”
    “I think so, somehow I do.”
    “Should I call the police and let them know we’ve received this call?”
    Ellie considered this for a moment. “Just sit tight on it until I get back. You could try calling a couple of the other stations though, feel them out, see if they received similar calls. That way we’ll know how to play it on this evening’s news.”
    The phone rang again. Jimmy knew enough to answer it this time.
    “Ellie, your camera crew’s waiting downstairs,” he said.
    “Wish me luck.”
    She was out the door before he could wish her anything.
    The gentlemen bandits, as they were known in those cities where, with impeccable manners, they had carried off many hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of cash and jewelry, were no longer able to maintain their image. Instead, they were hunkered down behind the reservations counter of the Mark Hopkins, repeatedly firing their automatics. Their first targets, naturally, had been the three policemen who had attempted to spare themselves the fate of their fallen colleague.
    In this objective they’d been none too successful. For one thing, by throwing their guns aside when ordered to do so, they had lost precious seconds in scooping them up again. For another, they had no cover.
    Two men were instantly cut down, though only one sustained fatal injuries. The other, his thigh covered with blood, groped for his weapon and returned the fire. Unfortunately, one of the panicking guests—a portly man with a briefcase—got in the way. When his massive stomach burst open with a strange sucking sound, he dropped his briefcase and gazed with astonishment at the injury. As he clutched his gut, trying to prevent his intestines from falling out, he kept shaking his head dazedly as though this was a dream from which he might eventually awaken.
    The third officer managed to escape the initial fusillade; perhaps because he was the youngest—a rookie with only half a year on the force—he possessed the greatest agility and he’d thrown himself to the floor before the rounds were impacted in the wall beyond him. But he found himself in the frustrating position of having to hold his fire. What sense did it make to begin shooting