Read Online Dirty Harry 01 - Duel For Cannons by Dane Hartman - Free Book Online
Authors: Dane Hartman
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balls. Harry threw the bottom of his body back and threw the flat of his hand into the man’s nose. The first attacker fell backward, a column of blood marking his fall.
The second attacker complicated matters by taking a swing at Harry while an off-set technician set off a “squib” on the man’s chest by remote control. Callahan ducked under the swing just as the small explosive attached to a steel plate on the man’s chest blew out, ripping open a fake blood bag. The stuntman’s fist missed the cop, but the crimson gore caught Harry full in the face.
The cop straightened with his face dripping red. Harry put both hands on the second attackers shoulder and pushed. Off balance because of his missed punch, the stuntman fell on his side.
The third and fourth attackers came from two sides. The third was another Heald-primed stuntman. The fourth was a guy who had witnessed Harry’s retaliation against the first and second. The third swung his right arm back, trying to hit whoever pushed him without turning around. The fourth hopped over the downed second man, his fists clenched for the kill.
Harry reached in between the clenched fists to grab the latter attacker by the shirt front. With an abrupt jerk, he pulled the fourth guy’s head into the third’s backward trajectory. One man’s knuckles collided with the other’s lips. Harry dropped the latter and sidestepped the former just in time to see Heald crawling toward the front door. Unfortunately, there were still about a dozen guys between him and the stoolie.
With an angry shout, Harry started hauling actors out of his way. When the third cameraman suddenly saw a bloody man in modern dress plowing through its line of sight, it reported it by radio to the assistant director. After the assistant told the director, an abrupt halt was called to the proceedings. But no matter how many “cuts” were called, the stuntmen were too far gone to stop. By that time the fight was real for them.
Even Heald was getting caught up in the brawl. When he saw Harry barreling toward him, he scrambled to his feet and pulled a six gun out of a struggling stuntman’s holster. Still backing toward the door, he opened up on the rampaging Harry. The stoolie was wondering why the “bullets” weren’t having any effect when two more stuntmen ran in to join the fray. They smacked right into Heald, sending the blank-filled gun spinning to the floor and the stoolie spinning under a table.
At that juncture, the assistant director came roaring in, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Cut! Cut, goddamn it! Didn’t you hear the director? Cut, for Chrissake!”
Finally the huge bunch of stuntmen started to respond, but there were still too many milling and rolling about for Harry to get to Heald. The assistant director was having no trouble getting to Harry, however. He plowed straight through until he was screaming up into Callahan’s still-wet face.
“I told you to get a costume, Stilt! What the hell are you trying to do? Do you know how much money you’ve cost this production? It’s coming out of your pay, you hear me, Stilt? You’re getting no money, all right? What’s your number, Stilt? What’s your fucking number?” The man pulled up his clipboard for a renewed search for Harry’s name.
Harry looked at Heald. The stoolie was sneaking out from under the table. With a few steps he’d be out. Harry looked at the man rifling through his clipboard. Then he put his left hand around the assistant director’s neck and his right hand around the man’s belt.
With a mighty tug and a subsequent swing, Harry threw the assistant director across the room and onto the tabletop. The man with the clipboard landed back first, scattering the drinks, cards, and poker chip props. The table’s legs collapsed, leaving the full weight of the surprised man and wooden circle on Little Brian Heald.
Harry took his time making his way across the room. Then he casually reached down and pulled
The second attacker complicated matters by taking a swing at Harry while an off-set technician set off a “squib” on the man’s chest by remote control. Callahan ducked under the swing just as the small explosive attached to a steel plate on the man’s chest blew out, ripping open a fake blood bag. The stuntman’s fist missed the cop, but the crimson gore caught Harry full in the face.
The cop straightened with his face dripping red. Harry put both hands on the second attackers shoulder and pushed. Off balance because of his missed punch, the stuntman fell on his side.
The third and fourth attackers came from two sides. The third was another Heald-primed stuntman. The fourth was a guy who had witnessed Harry’s retaliation against the first and second. The third swung his right arm back, trying to hit whoever pushed him without turning around. The fourth hopped over the downed second man, his fists clenched for the kill.
Harry reached in between the clenched fists to grab the latter attacker by the shirt front. With an abrupt jerk, he pulled the fourth guy’s head into the third’s backward trajectory. One man’s knuckles collided with the other’s lips. Harry dropped the latter and sidestepped the former just in time to see Heald crawling toward the front door. Unfortunately, there were still about a dozen guys between him and the stoolie.
With an angry shout, Harry started hauling actors out of his way. When the third cameraman suddenly saw a bloody man in modern dress plowing through its line of sight, it reported it by radio to the assistant director. After the assistant told the director, an abrupt halt was called to the proceedings. But no matter how many “cuts” were called, the stuntmen were too far gone to stop. By that time the fight was real for them.
Even Heald was getting caught up in the brawl. When he saw Harry barreling toward him, he scrambled to his feet and pulled a six gun out of a struggling stuntman’s holster. Still backing toward the door, he opened up on the rampaging Harry. The stoolie was wondering why the “bullets” weren’t having any effect when two more stuntmen ran in to join the fray. They smacked right into Heald, sending the blank-filled gun spinning to the floor and the stoolie spinning under a table.
At that juncture, the assistant director came roaring in, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Cut! Cut, goddamn it! Didn’t you hear the director? Cut, for Chrissake!”
Finally the huge bunch of stuntmen started to respond, but there were still too many milling and rolling about for Harry to get to Heald. The assistant director was having no trouble getting to Harry, however. He plowed straight through until he was screaming up into Callahan’s still-wet face.
“I told you to get a costume, Stilt! What the hell are you trying to do? Do you know how much money you’ve cost this production? It’s coming out of your pay, you hear me, Stilt? You’re getting no money, all right? What’s your number, Stilt? What’s your fucking number?” The man pulled up his clipboard for a renewed search for Harry’s name.
Harry looked at Heald. The stoolie was sneaking out from under the table. With a few steps he’d be out. Harry looked at the man rifling through his clipboard. Then he put his left hand around the assistant director’s neck and his right hand around the man’s belt.
With a mighty tug and a subsequent swing, Harry threw the assistant director across the room and onto the tabletop. The man with the clipboard landed back first, scattering the drinks, cards, and poker chip props. The table’s legs collapsed, leaving the full weight of the surprised man and wooden circle on Little Brian Heald.
Harry took his time making his way across the room. Then he casually reached down and pulled
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