Rhinoceros Read Online Free PDF

taking a shower and a wave of fatigue swept over her. Before she flopped on the bed again she tucked her Beretta automatic under the damp pillow, fell asleep. It was seven in the morning when daylight, penetrating the flimsy curtains, woke her again. She decided to get up.
    She thought once more of ta king a shower in the tiny bathroom, then reluctantly dismissed the idea. If some one came up the fire escape she'd be helpless, caught in the shower. She washed quickly, brushed her mane of red hair, put on a little make-up, felt better. The phone rang.
    She nearly jumped out of her skin but reacted quickly. Lifting the receiver, she said 'Yes' in a soft voice. It was the old besom who had stood behind the reception counter when she arrived.
    'Thought I'd better warn you. Coupla men are on the way up to your room. Said they was police. Rude sods, they are . . .'
    'Thank you.'
    She realized the woman had warned her because she'd resented the way they'd spoken to her. And she had obviously had doubts whether they were police, so they weren't in uniform. As a precaution - and due to her weariness when she'd arrived - she had opened the lid of her case but had taken nothing out except her cosmetics bag. She ran into the bathroom, grabbed the bag, shoved it back into her case, closed the lid.
    Lisa had the window open, had rested her case on a metal tread outside, lifted one leg over the sill, when she heard the hard rapping on the locked door to the corridor.
    'Police. We know you're in there. Open up. Police . . .'
    The voice was hard, demanding. The rapping resumed. She started down the fire escape, not hurrying for fear she'd have an accident. She heard the savage splintering of wood. They were breaking down the door.
    Two men had rushed into the room. Both wore dark business suits. One was of medium height, fat, and his black eyebrows, matching his hair, met over the bridge of his boxer's nose. His companion was small, slim with Slavic cheekbones, ponytail hair, a cruel narrow face and sideburns. He held a large knife in his right hand. The order had been it should be a quick quiet job.
    'Not in bathroom,' the small man reported.
    'Panko, the bloody window.'
    Eyebrows rushed across, peered out. As he did so Lisa, who had reached the bottom steps, looked up, saw him clearly, ran to her car. Eyebrows swore.
    'She's got transport. I'll get the car, you go after her. Pick you up in the jalopy . . .'
    Lisa kept her cool, carefully inserted her ignition key as Panko tore down the fire escape. She had the engine going as he reached the bottom, stood in the middle of the wide alley. Without hesitation she drove straight at him. He jumped aside, brandishing his knife, pressing himself against the wall.
    Lisa pressed her foot down, but travelling across the cobbled surface of the alley slowed her down. In her rear-view mirror she could see a large blue Ford pause at the foot of the fire escape. The little man jumped aboard, then the Ford was coming after her.
    'Those aren't detectives,' she said to herself. 'Not when one of them is waving an evil-looking knife about. Girl, you're in real trouble . . .'
    She decided to head for Waterloo station, but soon ran into heavy commuter traffic. The real danger loomed when she was approaching die bridge crossing die Thames. An amber light, which she hoped the car ahead would beat, turned red, it stopped. She braked.
    'Well, I'm surrounded by cars with people,' she comforted herself.
    Glancing again in the mirror, her brief release from fear vanished. She clenched her teeth. The small man had left the stationary Ford six cars behind her and was wending his way between the traffic towards her. The car she was inside was an old model and there was no mechanism she could use to lock all the doors.
    All Skinny had to do when he reached her was to open her door, then ram home his butcher's knife. She reached for her Beretta, jammed behind her belt under her coat. Couldn't get to the damned thing. She