CHAPTER FORTY-SIX Beyond Effective, But Not Maximum, Range Our situation’s complexity had just gone from that of a labyrinthine scheme, to that of a Gordian Knot. I saw but one course of action, and it seemed a darkly tunneled one without light at its end. I...
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE Hell Comes to Breakfast I waited in the dark. The cell door did not open. My mind wandered briefly. Were the six rounds remaining in the Kel-tec meant for more than Kasinski and Alexi? At any time in my career I could have played out my string. The...
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Morituri te Salutamus The Tundra Cat slowed. I had taken the back bench-seat. Don and Dutch were up front, with the drivers near the windscreen. The box of Johnny Walker Black label had been carefully jammed under the front seats. The...
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE To Live and Die for Dixie A small tendril of smoke curled up from the end of the suppressor, which I had once more pointed down at the floor. The machined steel part had done its first job well. There had been almost no sound. Possibly, a...
CHAPTER FORTY Wet Work On the way to the Lido deck, I stopped at Don’s room, and assured myself that the Basque was going to be on the radio while the rest of us were ashore. I opened Don’s door, unannounced, then greeted his bedmate. She held up her radio. I...