The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Read Online Free PDF Page B

gleaming, Reed followed him through the doorway onto the shaded porch of
the Club.
    "Our bolter may have answers." Quatermain inspected and then shouldered the
elephant gun.
    "But he's so far away," Reed said. "You'll never hit him."
    Quatermain ignored the remark, taking aim. He squinted, shook his head and
lowered the gun.
    "Yes, I thought he was—" Reed said, nodding with a trace of smugness.
    But Quatermain wasn't finished. He took a pair of wire glasses from his shirt
pocket. "God, I hate getting old." He put the glasses on, adjusted them, and
took aim again. The elephant gun belched a roar like a cannon, and Reed
flinched, squeezing his eyes shut and clapping his hands over his ears.
    The bullet covered the distance to its target at incredible speed. The
wounded assassin glanced back, thinking he'd gotten away—and the projectile
slammed into his unprotected shoulder, shattering bone and flesh. He yelped and
fell to the ground, sprawling on the trampled dirt of the road.
    Quatermain lowered his gun and put his glasses away. He cracked his neck,
surprised and exhilarated. "Well then, let us see what that fellow has to say
for himself." He went to the hitching post and swiftly untied one of the waiting
horses. He handed the reins of a second to Reed. "Nigel wont mind if you borrow
his horse."
    The two men approached the downed assassin, riding hard. Many locals had
already left their market stalls and huts, gathering to stare at the bleeding
killer, who was dressed as an Englishman.
    Reed shook his head, his face paler than usual. "They must have learned I was
coming for you. They wanted to kill you before you could offer to help."
    "Obviously," said Quatermain.
    They dismounted, striding forward like conquerors. The wounded assassin
looked at them with fanatical determination, then used his one good arm to
fumble desperately in his pockets. His other shoulder was a smashed and bloody
ruin from the elephant gun.
    "It's no use, man," Reed told him. "We'll get you to a doctor, and then to
jail."
    Finally, the assassin found a pill in his rumpled pocket and pulled it free
with blood-spattered fingers.
    Quatermain rushed forward. "Step him! We need the information!"
    He grabbed the mans wrist, but it was too late. The assassin bit down on the
pill with a smug smile that instantly transformed into a pain-wracked grimace as
he died.
    Cursing, Quatermain dropped the man's wrist in disgust. The crowd looked at
him in awe, but the old adventurer wanted no part of them.
    After all that had happened, Reed did not forget his primary mission. He
cleared his throat. "You may have no love for the empire, Mr. Quatermain, but I
know you love Africa." He gestured around him, as if there might be something
admirable to be found in Nairobi. "A war in Europe will spread to its
colonies—"
    Suddenly, behind them, the Britannia Club exploded.
    Flames erupted through the door and roof; windows shattered. Splinters flew
up into the air. The support beams toppled, and the whole structure groaned,
then collapsed into an inferno.
    Quatermain stared, his lips curled downward in a frown.
    No longer interested in the assassins motionless body, the crowd of natives
turned their attention to the explosion. Shouting with excitement, they rushed
toward the Brittania Club to help, or at least watch from up close.
    Quatermain's eyes were steely as he watched his home burn.
    "It appears the war has already arrived here," Reed finished. "You cant hide
from it, Quatermain."
    "All right. I'm in," the old adventurer said. "Damn…"
    Reed smiled. "Excellent. Pack for an English summer."
    With a smug look, the young bureaucrat strode away to the waiting buggy. The
driver hadn't moved from his seat, watching all the excitement with bemused
interest.
    As he took two steps to follow, Quatermain hesitated, then looked back toward
the African veldt, with its open skies and waving grasses. Thunderheads were
gathering over the