The Terrorizers Read Online Free PDF

found the human mind a fascinating subject.
    “You’re sure?” I asked.
    “Fairly sure,” Lilienthal said. “Dr. DeLong has had considerable experience in military situations. He says he would wager a tidy sum on their being projectiles from a machine pistol, although two achieved total penetration and the third has been removed. Probably 9mm. They could have come from a 9mm handgun, but something about the grouping seems to indicate a fully automatic weapon to Dr. DeLong. Not a rifle. Three bullets from a highpowered rifle in that large a caliber would pretty well have torn your arm off.”
    I said, “According to my fiancee, I’m supposed to have spent some time in Vietnam with my cameras.”
    “Of course, Mr. Madden.”
    I looked at him sharply. “You have a very unconvincing way of agreeing with a guy, Doc.”
    Lilienthal said dryly, “You’re a very unconvincing guy, Mr. Madden.”
    “Spell it out, please.”
    He came back to his chair, swung it around so he could straddle it, and faced me over the back of it. “Let me put it this way,” he said. “Do you really
feel
that you are a gentle photographer chap currently specializing in beautiful pictures of little birds and animals?”
    I grinned. “At the moment, I’m gentle as a lamb, but the answer to your question is that I’m not sure how I feel. Not yet. Go on.”
    “The fact is that you have altogether too many marks of violence on your body for a peaceloving cameraman, or even a news photographer with a penchant for trouble. The shoulder wounds are the most recent but there are others. And the most interesting thing about them is that some have been carefully erased, as well as could be managed with plastic surgery, as if somebody’d been interested in making sure you wouldn’t cause too much comment with your shirt off.”
    “So that’s it!” I couldn’t help laughing. “I thought those investigators from your MOT eyed me very suspiciously, not to mention that closemouthed gent from the RCMP. I suppose this was called to their attention.”
    Lilienthal looked slightly embarrassed. “As a matter of fact, it was. A doctor has a duty to his patient, but he also has a duty to society. There was no way for us to be certain that the identification found on you wasn’t forged or stolen.”
    “So somebody decided they’d dredged up a professional syndicate hitman, or maybe a soldier of fortune, disabled while engaged in a nefarious operation of some kind, is that it?” I laughed again. “How did you get around the fact that I’d been positively identified by Kitty Davidson… Oh, of course, she was my gun moll helping to preserve my cover. Cover? That’s the word, isn’t it, Doctor?”
    Lilienthal smiled. “Well, some fairly melodramatic theories were considered, I’ll admit, although the RCMP quickly determined that Miss Davidson was precisely who and what she claimed to be. Your history was a little harder to obtain, since you are not a Canadian citizen.”
    “And?”
    “Your fingerprints were finally identified in Washington.”
    I said, “The suspense is awful. I can hardly stand it, Dr. Lilienthal.”
    He said, “Your fingerprints were positively identified as belonging to Paul Horace Madden, a reputable photographer with no recorded involvement with the law.”
    I drew a long breath, not all for display. “Well, if they’d found anything else, that Mountie would be parked outside the door, wouldn’t he? What about my fascinating scars?”
    “You were severely wounded in Vietnam. It was some time after that—after convalescence—that you began concentrating on peaceful wildlife photography.”
    There was a little silence. I frowned. “So it’s all explained very plausibly, but you’re not satisfied. What bugs you, Doctor?”
    “Bugs?” It was his turn to frown; then he laughed. “Oh, yes, of course. Bugs!” He became sober and intent once more. “I’ve done my duty to society, Mr. Madden. Now my duty is to you, my