Read Online 13 - The Rainbow Affair by David McDaniel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David McDaniel
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out simultaneous howls of complaint. One was silenced an instant later as Napoleon's other hand, slightly bent and rigid, chopped through a short arc which ended on the side of the nearest neck.
Agony shot through his wrist as he connected, but the pain was compensated by the sight of half his opposition collapsed on the tough marsh grass.
The other half had jumped back, clutching at his own injured wrist, and Napoleon felt a moment of sympathy for him. But he was unarmed, and there was no telling how distant help was. He decided not to press the engagement.
Resolutely ignoring the twinges that shot up his legs and through his back, Solo broke and ran for cover. The truck stood empty and unguarded, but the first gunman, who no longer looked as patient as he had, stood between him and the open door of the cab. A motorized escape was out. Dodging and ducking, Solo was out of sight among the trees within five seconds.
There were shouts behind him, as the driver of the truck summoned help, probably from the boat. Napoleon hoped so; it would take them some time to climb those steps and to get their breath back afterwards. He glanced over his shoulder to establish the direction of the cliff, and hurried in the opposite direction.
They had turned off the main road - or at least a paved road - somewhere back this way. It couldn't be more than half a mile, he thought, judging from how long it had taken and how slowly they had been going. Half his muscles were stiffening up already, but with a combination of will power and fear of capture driving him, he was able to keep going.
He heard the pursuers long before he saw them, crashing through the brush and swearing. They were audible enough to give him both location and direction; as soon as both had been established he swung at right angles to their course, moved quietly some twenty feet, and stopped, listening.
They shouldn't be making that much noise; they weren't fools, by any means. More than likely, a few men were trying to beat him into the arms of the main group which was moving quietly in the opposite direction. He didn't think they were clever enough to create a second-order deception, the main body making the most noise so he would think it was a trap. He took the situation at face value and doubled back, heading roughly towards the major source of racket.
As he approached, he became more cautious. They sounded only about fifty feet away now. He crouched low behind a bush and, parting the branches cautiously, peered out from his covert.
There they came - only two men, talking together as they came and brushing branches aside all about them, making quite a satisfactory racket. Napoleon pulled down into a tight little ball behind the bush, and tried to breathe as little as possible as they went by, less than fifteen feet away from him. After they passed, he began counting quietly to himself.
He counted off two hundred and fifty, and then looked around very slowly. There was no one else in sight. Very quietly and carefully he rose from his position of concealment and looked around again. Still no one. He took a cautious step, and then another. Eventually he was striding on through the woods, all pursuit left far behind him.
He became aware of the road shortly before he could see it, as the sound of a well-muffled engine and the unmistakable hiss of tires on pavement came to him. He hurried forward, his feet silent on the tufted grass, up a slight rise and past another line of bushes, in time to see the rear end of a big old battleship-gray Bentley disappearing around the next curve. Too bad he'd missed it - he needed a ride to the next town. No way of telling how far it was, or in which direction.
His main problem would be staying out of sight of the men hunting him while still remaining clearly visible to anyone coming along the road who might offer him a lift. He decided to compromise by remaining in hiding under a convenient clump of something green until he heard
Agony shot through his wrist as he connected, but the pain was compensated by the sight of half his opposition collapsed on the tough marsh grass.
The other half had jumped back, clutching at his own injured wrist, and Napoleon felt a moment of sympathy for him. But he was unarmed, and there was no telling how distant help was. He decided not to press the engagement.
Resolutely ignoring the twinges that shot up his legs and through his back, Solo broke and ran for cover. The truck stood empty and unguarded, but the first gunman, who no longer looked as patient as he had, stood between him and the open door of the cab. A motorized escape was out. Dodging and ducking, Solo was out of sight among the trees within five seconds.
There were shouts behind him, as the driver of the truck summoned help, probably from the boat. Napoleon hoped so; it would take them some time to climb those steps and to get their breath back afterwards. He glanced over his shoulder to establish the direction of the cliff, and hurried in the opposite direction.
They had turned off the main road - or at least a paved road - somewhere back this way. It couldn't be more than half a mile, he thought, judging from how long it had taken and how slowly they had been going. Half his muscles were stiffening up already, but with a combination of will power and fear of capture driving him, he was able to keep going.
He heard the pursuers long before he saw them, crashing through the brush and swearing. They were audible enough to give him both location and direction; as soon as both had been established he swung at right angles to their course, moved quietly some twenty feet, and stopped, listening.
They shouldn't be making that much noise; they weren't fools, by any means. More than likely, a few men were trying to beat him into the arms of the main group which was moving quietly in the opposite direction. He didn't think they were clever enough to create a second-order deception, the main body making the most noise so he would think it was a trap. He took the situation at face value and doubled back, heading roughly towards the major source of racket.
As he approached, he became more cautious. They sounded only about fifty feet away now. He crouched low behind a bush and, parting the branches cautiously, peered out from his covert.
There they came - only two men, talking together as they came and brushing branches aside all about them, making quite a satisfactory racket. Napoleon pulled down into a tight little ball behind the bush, and tried to breathe as little as possible as they went by, less than fifteen feet away from him. After they passed, he began counting quietly to himself.
He counted off two hundred and fifty, and then looked around very slowly. There was no one else in sight. Very quietly and carefully he rose from his position of concealment and looked around again. Still no one. He took a cautious step, and then another. Eventually he was striding on through the woods, all pursuit left far behind him.
He became aware of the road shortly before he could see it, as the sound of a well-muffled engine and the unmistakable hiss of tires on pavement came to him. He hurried forward, his feet silent on the tufted grass, up a slight rise and past another line of bushes, in time to see the rear end of a big old battleship-gray Bentley disappearing around the next curve. Too bad he'd missed it - he needed a ride to the next town. No way of telling how far it was, or in which direction.
His main problem would be staying out of sight of the men hunting him while still remaining clearly visible to anyone coming along the road who might offer him a lift. He decided to compromise by remaining in hiding under a convenient clump of something green until he heard
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