Nightmare City Read Online Free PDF Page B

He lifted
both hands in an open-palmed gesture. ‘You do what you gotta do,’
he said to Curly, who he had now sussed as a rank amateur, as was
his pal behind him. Professionals don’t talk, they act. If they had
been pros Conroy would be splattered by now. Rider guessed this was
their first direct hit and it wasn’t easy. He knew. ‘I won’t
interfere. Not my business.’ To Conroy he said, ‘Sorry, pal.
Nothing personal.’
    Conroy’s mouth sagged open in fear. His eyes were bursting out
of their sockets. ‘You twat,’ he managed to breath.
    Rider shrugged.
    Curly’s thumb went to the spur of the hammer and pulled it
slowly back.
    Rider watched it, fascinated. He saw the firing pin come into
view, the cylinder rotate the next bullet into position.
    This was the only chance. He took it.
    At the exact moment the hammer locked into place he lunged at
Curly.
    With his right hand he palmed the gun away from the back of
Conroy’s head as though he was slamming a door shut.
    What he couldn’t prevent was Curly’s forefinger from pulling
the trigger, but this happened as the muzzle of the gun cleared the
danger area of Conroy’s skull. The bullet discharged just inches
away from Conroy’s ear.
    Rider continued with his self-propelled momentum, pushing the
gun further away, his fingers closing over the top strap and
cylinder of the gun, gripping tightly, and twisting it easily out
of Curly’s hand. At the same time he stepped into a position which
put Curly between him and the other gunman.
    Suddenly disarmed and disorientated, Curly staggered back a
couple of steps. This should have been a simple hit, no
complications. Now things had changed.
    For a start, there was no gun in his hand any more.
    Behind Rider, Conroy sank to his knees, holding both his hands
over his left ear. From such close range the shot had almost burst
his eardrum.
    Rider eased the gun into the palm of his hand and looked down
his nose at Curly, in the way the lioness had earlier surveyed
him.
    Before he could say anything, Curly made a bad
decision.
    He threw himself to the ground and yelled, ‘Shoot ‘em, Jonno.
Shoot the cunts!’
    Jonno, his almost-adolescent companion, was as bewildered as
Curly. He dodged and weaved on the spot, trying to get a shot in
without hitting Curly - but was slightly off-balance and wide
open.
    To be on the safe side, Rider shot Jonno once.
    He didn’t want to kill the poor kid - even though he knew that
if the gun was loaded with magnum shells it wouldn’t matter where
the hell he hit him, he’d probably die from shock if nothing else -
so he aimed in the general area of the youngster’s legs.
    It wasn’t a magnum. He could tell from the recoil.
    The .357 slug slammed into the outer part of Jonno’s right
thigh with an audible ‘slap’ as the flesh burst, ripping through
the muscle and lodging by his thigh bone.
    Jonno screamed and dropped his gun. His hands went to the leg
and clamped round the wound as he lowered himself to the ground.
Blood spurted out between his fingers. He was shivering already as
the shock waves pounded up through his abdomen.
    Curly looked up at Rider, who pointed the gun at
him.
    ‘ No, don’t, please,’ he gasped desperately.
    Rider was about to enjoy some sport with Curly, but this was
quickly curtailed when someone shouted, ‘Oi!’ from a distance. Two
people who looked like zoo officials approached
cautiously.
    Deciding enough was enough, Rider ignominiously heaved the
half-deaf Conroy to his feet and dragged him out of the zoo whilst
waving the revolver about so people would keep their
distance.
    There were one or two questions Rider wanted to put to
him.
     
     
    Henry leaned back in his chair, laid down his pen and picked
up the statement he had written about his little altercation with
Shane. He reread it thoroughly once more. If it came to the crunch,
he hoped it would answer all the questions.
    He was satisfied with the content, but winced when he came to
the