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    In The Line of Fire
    In The Line of Fire
    In The Line of Fire
    Ebook80 pages1 hour

    In The Line of Fire

    By Avram B. Cross

    ()

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    About this ebook

    He made war on the rats and they swore they would see him hang— even if they had to kill the most beautiful blonde in town to do it.

     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMystery & Thriller Publishing
    Release dateOct 10, 2023
    ISBN9798215955659
    In The Line of Fire

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      Book preview

      In The Line of Fire - Avram B. Cross

      All rights reserved

      No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means - graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems - without the prior permission in writing of the publishers

      He made war on the rats and they swore they would see him hang— even if they had to kill the most beautiful blonde in town to do it.

      I

      THE man who came in on the airliner at the International Airport was early. But he wanted to arrive before he was expected; to wander around and feel the city before it knew he was there. He checked his bags at the airport and took a cab to Aragon City.

      He went from bar to bar, from club to club. Іп each he had one drink. Brandy and water.

      By midnight the only evidence of the brandies was the warmth under his belt. And he knew Aragon City for what she was. Не could feel her lack of roots, the violence that bubbled just beneath the surface.

      He walked into a small, dimly lit club on Portola. He sensed a difference as he walked to the bar. Everyone there was better dressed than in the bars he’d visited earlier—sleeker, more enameled.

      He ordered his drink and became aware of the woman who sat next to him at the bar. Her perfume reached out to tug at his senses. He took a quick look. Evening dress. Plunging neckline. Mink stole. Careful blonde hair. Her face was familiar. He searched his memory апd found the face staring out from a movie screen. He turned back to his drink.

      Later he knew she was examining him. He looked at her. She stared back at him. There was excitement in her eyes. And something else.

      It was after one when he left the club with her. She handed him her car keys and pointed out the convertible. In the car she leaned against his shoulder, occasionally calling out directions in a sleepy voice.

      It was a small estate in the residential section of Aragon City. They left the car beneath the car

      porch. He unlocked the door with the key and followed her in.

      In the modern living room, she tossed her handbag on a chair and turned to him, holding her arms out in drunken gravity.

      Put me to bed, she said simply. She swayed toward him.

      He picked up her limp form and carried her out into the foyer. After a couple of wrong guesses, he found the bedroom. He paused uncertainly, then deposited her on the bed. She sagged back on the cover, her eyes closed.

      He dropped to one knee and removed her clothes. Then he turned to look at her. He let his breath out slowly. It was a well-cared-for body, delicately curved, the legs strong and shapely.

      He pulled the covers down beneath her so that she rested on the sheets. She still seemed submerged in a drunken sleep, but he was suddenly aware that her breathing was too deep and rapid. A panel of light was across her face and he saw the quiver of a curled eyelash against her cheek.

      Anger stirred within him as he stood up. A moment later, savagely, he turned back toward her.

      Outside, the tempo of the storm picked up with a sullen fury.

      Неге and there a sleeper stirred uneasily, but the honest citizens of Aragon City slept on, unaware that the storm was ravishing their city.

      ***

      І WAS DUE іп Aragon City at eight that night, 12th February 1957. On Flight 324 from Denver. I had another brandy and water in a bar on Third Street and got in a cab. It was a quarter to eight when I got to the International Airport.

      The girl at the desk said that Flight 324 was on time. I lit a cigarette and took a quick look around the waiting room. There were a lot of people but nobody who looked like they belonged on a committee. Then the PA system came to life.

      Mr. Milo March, there is a telephone call for you in booth three next to the United Airlines counter.

      I grinned and ducked out, taking the underground passage to the gates. The phone call meant that they hadn't bothered to ask if the plane was in or that they suspected I was there early. Not that it made any difference. But I was still going to make it look like I came in on the right flight.

      After a while the big transport lumbered off the strip and wheeled around with one wing pointing at the gates. When the passengers came off, I walked along with them into the waiting room.

      I didn't have to wait long. Мг. Milo March, the girl's voice said over the loudspeaker, there is a telephone call for you in booth three next to the United Airlines counter.

      I walked over to the booth and took the receiver from the hook. Milo March, I said.

      Just a minute, sir, the operator said. I waited.

      Milo March? a new voice asked. It was a man with a-salad voice. Crisp.

      Yeah, I said and waited some more.

      This is Willis—chairman of the committee. Did you just get in?

      Isn't this when I was due? I countered. I grinned, remembering the twenty-four hours I’d already spent in Aragon City.

      Of course, of course, he said hastily. "We were going to meet you, March, but thought better of it. Will you come straight here? The address is three two-two Loma Vista Boulevard. The third

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