The Master Falconer Read Online Free PDF Page B

steps. He helped Bad Bobby Whiteplume cut Khalid down. The man stumbled toward the plane as the jet engines started up. Nate watched Khalid climb up the stairs on his hands and knees and wondered for a moment if Rocky would shut the door on him before he got in. Khalid made it, barely, without ever looking back. Twin spoors of blood snaked up the aluminum steps from Khalid’s wounds.
    The door closed behind him and the stairs scissored back into place and Nate and Bob drove their vehicles to the side of the airport, where they met the warriors. The roar of the plane shook the ground itself and split the sky in two.
    While the 737 rose into the air, Nate checked the birds in the hangar. The peregrine screamed at him when he opened the door. He rejoined Bob and Bob’s crew with the hooded falcon on his fist.
    It was minutes before the jet was far enough away that they could hear themselves speak.
    Bad Bob yawned. “Too damned early for this kind of stuff.”
    Several men agreed. They had all dismounted and held their horses by the reins.
    “Any of you ever see Fort Apache ?” Nate asked.
    “You mean Fort Apache , The Bronx ?” one of them asked. “With Paul Newman and Ed Asner?”
    “Pam Grier was in that, too,” Bob said.
    “No,” Nate said. “The original. With John Wayne.”
    No one had.
    “Here,” Nate said to Bob. “Our deal.”
    He gave Bob half of the brick of Al-Nura’s cash. Bob started to count it as the others gathered around him. Bob lost count, looked up at Nate, said, “I trust you. Besides, I know where to find you at my sister’s place.”
    A couple of the men laughed.
    “Not a bad gig,” one of them said, nodding at the 737, which was a dot against the belly of a cumulus cloud.
    “You can still make the shoot,” Nate said, looking up. “The light is still good.”
    “Fuck the Cherokee thing,” Bob said. “This is much better. Call on us anytime you need Indians.”
    “I hope I don’t need you again,” Nate said.
    “You don’t think he’ll come back?”
    “No. We screwed up his worldview.”
    Bob said, “Whatever that means.”
     
    AS NATE CLIMBED INTO HIS JEEP, Bob broke off from his friends and approached him. Bob had a threatening expression on his face, the one he no doubt had used on the film location to get more money from the director.
    “What?”
    “I’ve got a question,” Bob said in a gravel voice.
    “Ask away.”
    “Does this cover the seven chickens you took from my coop?” Then Bad Bob broke into a grin.
    Nate smiled back and peeled off two more bills. “This should cover the chickens,” he said, “with change left over to buy some coffee and your own television set.”

ALSO BY C. J. BOX
     
    THE JOE PICKETT NOVELS
     
    Nowhere to Run
     
    Below Zero
     
    Blood Trail
     
    Free Fire
     
    In Plain Sight
     
    Out of Range
     
    Trophy Hunt
     
    Winterkill
     
    Savage Run
     
    Open Season
     
    THE STAND-ALONE NOVELS
     
    Three Weeks to Say Goodbye
     
    Blue Heaven
     
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