Dr. Death Read Online Free PDF Page A

let you die. But I assure you, you will remain alive — and be sorry that you are alive — for as long as we wish you to — until you tell us what we wish to know."
    Akhmed said nothing. I doubt if he even heard the man's words. He was a lot closer to death than these men realized.
    "Alors,
Henri," said the other, in the drawling French of one born in Marseilles, "shall we castrate this filth?"
    I'd seen enough. I took one step backward, concentrated all my energies, and kicked. The door exploded from its hinges and hurtled forward into the room. I was right behind it. Even as the two men turned, my finger was gently squeezing Wilhelmina's trigger. A bright circle of red appeared in the forehead of the man with the cigar. He spun around, then plummeted forward. He was a corpse before he hit the floor. I could have disposed of the other man a split second later with another bullet, but I had other plans for him. Before his hand could reach the.38 revolver holstered under his left arm, Wilhelmina had disappeared, and Hugo was sliding into my hand. There was a bright flash of steel blade flickering through the air, and Hugo's point sliced neatly through the tendons of the second man's gun arm. He screamed, clawing at his arm. But he was no coward. Even with his right arm hanging bloodied and useless, he hurled himself at me. I deliberately waited until he was only inches away before I stepped aside. My elbow tapped his skull as his body, now totally out of control, hurtled past me. His head snapped up as the rest of his body slammed point blank to the floor. He was hardly down before I had rolled him over, face up, and pressed two fingers on the exposed sciatic nerve of his bloodied arm. The scream that came from his throat almost deafened me.
    "Who do you work for?" I gritted. "Who sent you?"
    He stared up at me, his eyes wide with pain.
    "Who sent you?" I demanded again.
    The terror in his eyes was overwhelming, but he said nothing. I pressed the sciatic nerve again. He shrieked, and his eyes rolled upward.
    "Talk, damn you," I gritted. "What Akhmed felt was pleasure compared to what's going to happen to you if you don't talk. And just remember, Akhmed was my friend."
    For an instant he simply stared up at me. Then, before I realized what he was doing, his jaws moved swiftly and violently. I heard a faint splintering sound. The man's body stiffened, and his mouth stretched into a rictus of a smile. Then
the
body slumped, inert. A faint smell of bitter almonds came to my nostrils.
    A suicide capsule, hidden in his teeth. Die before you talk, they had told him — whoever
they
were — and he had done just that.
    I pushed his body aside. The faint moans I could still hear coming from Akhmed were tearing at my guts. I retrieved Hugo from the floor, and, cradling his body in my left arm, cut my friend's bonds. I laid him on the floor as gently as possible. His breathing was shallow, weak.
    "Akhmed," I said softly. "Akhmed, my friend."
    He stirred. One hand fumbled for and found my arm. Incredibly, something like a smile appeared on the tortured, bloodied mouth.
    "Carter," he said. "My… friend."
    "Akhmed, who were they?"
    "Thought… sent by St. Pierre… opened gate for them after bar closed. Carter… listen…"
    His voice was getting weaker. I bent my head to his mouth.
    "Trying to reach you for two weeks… something going on here… our old friends…"
    He coughed. A trickle of blood slid from his lips.
    "Akhmed," I said. "Tell me."
    "My wife," he whispered. "Is she all right?"
    There was no point in telling him.
    "She's okay," I said. "Just knocked unconscious."
    "Good… woman," he whispered. "Fought like hell. Carter… listen…"
    I bent closer.
    "…tried… contact you, then St. Pierre. Our old friends… the bastards… heard they'd kidnapped somebody…"
    "Kidnapped who?"
    "Don't know… but… brought him first here, Tangier, then…"
    I could hardly distinguish the words.
    "Then where, Akhmed?" I asked urgently.