The Avenger 19 - Pictures of Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

couldn’t stop till he was into the cloud. There, he stopped, all right. He hit a curb, glanced off and nuzzled to rest against a tree. He couldn’t see a thing, blinded in that smoke.
    “I’ve muffed him,” he mourned disconsolately.
    He rolled down the right-hand window to find out if he could see a little better with no glass between him and the smoke. He couldn’t. He got out. In a moment the smoke would clear; then he could see where he was in relation to the road and perhaps find out into which lane the other car had turned.
    It was three or four minutes before he could see anything even dimly. Then, so close at hand that he almost jumped, he saw the other car!
    It hadn’t taken any road at all. It had stopped right after throwing the smoke screen. Why? Well, Cole was to find that out in about a second.
    He started impulsively toward the car, balling his fist to give the driver a good, persuasive clout!

    Cole Wilson was a ball of fire in action. There was no member of Justice, Inc., who had performed more marvels than he had. But he had one fault.
    He was impulsive.
    Any other of the little band would have thought it out a minute before leaping toward the car. But not Cole. So he got into trouble.
    “Stand perfectly still, please,” came a voice.
    He whirled. Coming around the side of his own car was the man he was after.
    The smoke had been, not an escape effort, but an attempt to lure him out of his own machine where he was accessible to trouble. And the attempt had succeeded.
    “Turn around,” said the man.
    He had an automatic that looked like a cannon. He was almost courteous, but there was impersonal murder in his tone.
    Cole hesitated. There was still much smoke, but there was not too much murk for the man to drill him in the head quite easily if he wanted to.
    Cole turned.
    He knew the trick, of course. The man would prefer not to shoot if he didn’t have to. Better to club him down silently. So he was going to walk up behind Cole’s back, and slash the automatic down.
    If Cole could spot the precise instant when the gun was upraised, and hence off line, he’d try a break.
    He felt, rather than heard, the man’s cautious steps over the turf behind him. He thought he heard a rustle of fabric as the man’s arm raised, but he wasn’t sure. Not sure enough.
    Sweat burst out on his forehead. It was a deadly guessing game. If he guessed wrong, he had his skull smashed, for he knew this fellow would play for keeps. If he guessed right—
    He whirled and sprang. And the luck of The Avenger’s aides was with him. The gun was swung up for the blow.
    Frantically, the man tried to get it down for a shot, but he was at least a half second too late. Then he grunted as a fist caught him in the middle and another tagged his jaw. Hard fingers tore the gun from his grasp, but he was at least able to twitch it away so Wilson couldn’t get it. It fell in the dark. Then it was man to man.
    The fight that followed was a honey.
    Cole was as fast as light, as tough as whipcord, and was now pretty sore. He would rather not go back to Bleek Street at all than go without the man he’d been sent for, and he fought with that grim thought in mind.
    The blond fellow fought as though death were better than defeat. And as far as strength and swiftness went, he, too, was quite a battler.
    He straightened from that first blow, and caught Cole over the heart with a right that made The Avenger’s man feel as if he’d been stabbed. Then he got one in on the side of Cole’s face that made him see stars.
    Cole came back with a double jab to the middle again, and a short one straight up to the jaw. The man reeled backward. Cole followed, then felt a hand suddenly seize on his face, with fingers jabbing viciously for his eyes.
    He had to back off or go blind. And as he backed, his opponent jumped like a tiger, caught him squarely around the waist and laid him on the ground like a falling tree. His hands went around Cole’s