Honorable Assassin Read Online Free PDF Page B

with an old fruit juice can and a coat hanger from the
bed of the truck. It was noisy but it was no longer dragging. The
real problem happened when they stopped for fuel in Blaney. The
truck would not even turn over, the battery was dead. A jump got
the truck started, but it died again as it went into gear. The
alternator was shot and the gas station did not do repairs so
Ginger and Terry walked to the nearest parts store and bought an
alternator and a couple of wrenches. Terry was worried about his
uncle who was complaining all the way back to the truck about not
bringing any tools with him. Once the alternator was replaced it
was necessary to get another jump to start the engine. They finally
hit the road again. The entire trip was about 350 kilometers and
should have taken them three-and-a-half hours; it took them most of
the day.
    It was almost seven o’clock in the evening
when they got to the medical center on Goldsmith Street. Visiting
hours were definitely over by then but the staff was very
understanding about the situation. They let Terry visit with his
mother for an hour, then Ginger spoke with her privately for a few
minutes. He looked particularly grim when he left the room. Terry
complained when they could not take Marcia with them right then and
there.
    The sun was getting low in the sky and the
sheep and chickens needed to be secured. The engine in the old
truck fired up and they started putting out of the parking lot when
Terry saw the man from his dream. He was walking in the side
entrance. The side entrance should have been locked but was not.
Terry started yelling, pointing and grabbing his uncle’s arm. He
was so insistent that Ginger pulled to the side and parked the
truck on Faithful Street. Terry was frantic and could barely make
himself understood. He kept pounding on Ginger’s arm as he told him
that the man who had piloted the boat that had chased them just
went into the hospital.
    Ginger Kingston was skeptical but had
noticed the boy did not lean toward flights of fancy, so he got out
of the truck and headed toward the door the youngster had
indicated. The door should have locked automatically when it closed
but it pulled right open. Somebody had stuffed a matchbook into the
lock, blocking the mechanism. Ginger charged into the hallway
bristling like a guard dog. None of the elevators were sitting open
so he ran to the other end of the hall and up the stairs. On the
second floor he turned back down toward Marcia’s room. He slowed
when he saw the constable sitting on the bench outside the door,
and Terry rushed past him. Terry was flinging himself through the
door when Ginger realized the constable had a huge wash of blood
behind him on the wall. He had been shot through the chest as he
sat there. Then there was the sound of the muffled .40 caliber
pistol, coincident with Terry’s scream. Another shot rang out and a
hole exploded in the door. Ginger slid under the hole in the door
and pulled the constable’s .40 caliber, model 22, Glock from his
holster. First he chambered a round, then he grabbed his nephew’s
ankle where it was lying, just outside the doorway but he could not
pull him out of the room. The door was jammed up against him.
Standing to his full height, he kicked the door open and tried to
get a bead on the intruder.
    Bradley was in the room, expecting just what
he got. The door flew open and he shot Ginger Kingston in the
chest. The constable’s sidearm went off almost simultaneously but
the shot went wide. Bradley had not seen Terry lying on the floor.
When the door had opened the first time, he was facing the other
way, shooting Marcia in the head. When he had turned and blew a
hole in the door, Terry was already lying flat and covering his
head with his hands. The killer finally saw the boy lying on the
floor and took aim at him, just to remove any live witnesses, but
the boy was too fast. He was already rising and was behind the wall
before Bradley could peg him. Once