Stallion Gate Read Online Free PDF Page A

Century of the Jew they’ve taken our hearts, when they already had our minds. You see how it’s coming together, all of it, right here.”
    “Here?”
    “I’m talking, Sergeant, of the Third Great Jew. Sergeant, what would you say if I told you that J. Robert Oppenheimer is the most brilliant man you or I or anyone here has ever met?”
    “Could be, sir.”
    “Sergeant, what would you say if I told you that Oppenheimer is an agent of the Soviet Union, intent on developing an atomic weapon here only so that he can deliver the finished plans to his Soviet friends?”
    Joe didn’t know what to say. They had entered a depth of insanity that he was unprepared for.
    “You’d say I was mad, wouldn’t you, Sergeant?”
    “Have you”—Joe picked his words carefully—“passed your opinion on to General Groves, sir?”
    “As did the FBI. But the general is in Oppenheimer’s thrall. Everyone is. Nobel laureates are his lapdogs and the United States Army has been tied up and delivered as a gift to him. I have felt the allure myself.”
    “Have you, sir?”
    “The most fascinating conversations in my life have been those with Oppenheimer on history. He read
The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
on a single train trip from New York to Los Angeles, and
Das Kapital
on the way back. This is a physicist, I remind you.”
    “True,” Joe said. Oppy was always trying to launch turgid conversations.
    “Have you ever noticed something hypnotic about him, Sergeant? The way people will go into his office saying one thing and come out saying the opposite? Theway everyone imitates him? The way he’s made his own empire here? Here at this focal point of history?”
    “You’re following orders from the FBI or someone in Washington, sir?”
    “I don’t need orders from anyone. Everyone in intelligence already sees the obvious connections. It’s—”
    “Shh!” Joe saw three shapes emerging silently out of the opposite woods and stopping at the trees’ edge. Three large blurs watching and listening. Could be deer, elk or horses. Joe crouched lower. The Winchester had an open sight on a short barrel, one round in the breech and five in the magazine. He wondered how good Captain Augustino was with the Marlin.
    The first breath of day was a leaden gray light. Stars dulled and disappeared while the three blurs came into focus. Elk or deer from their utter quiet, Joe felt. They were waiting to make sure the meadow slope was safe, just as he was waiting to be certain of his shot. Blue light poured into the Valle, lifting the finest granules of snow. Gradually he saw them: two bull elk and a pregnant elk cow. Strange a cow would be with bulls at this time of year, he thought. He aimed at the bull on his side, assuming the captain would take the other. The bucks were beautiful, dark heads and big antlers ahead of their soft tan bodies. A heart shot, he decided. His own heart stood still, waiting, watching the lightening slope of meadow snow growing against the angle of pines. The three elk stood on shadows.
    When Augustino shot, the elk cow dropped in a heap.The bucks bolted into the woods and crashed through the trees.
    “You didn’t fire,” Augustino said.
    “You shot the cow.”
    “I gave you the bucks.”
    Joe stood up. “You don’t shoot a cow that’s carrying. She was carrying, anyone could see that. You said you were a hunter.”
    “Sergeant, you missed your—”
    “You don’t shoot a cow that’s carrying. I thought that at least you were a hunter. I listened to this garbage of yours about Jews, this fucking drivel, because you’re an officer. But you don’t shoot a cow that’s carrying. You’re fucking crazy, Augustino, you know that? Oppy’s worth ten of you or me. That shit about Marx. I lived in New York. I marched for the Spanish Civil War vets. I had two coeds screwing me for a solid month to teach me about Marx while you were beating off in the sheets of Brownsville.”
    “I’m