Read Online Dirty Harry 11 - Death in the Air by Dane Hartman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dane Hartman
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wanted to be part of the massive pileup Callahan’s car seemed to be promoting.
And it wasn’t long before the bus driver noticed his insane antics. The bus driver’s reaction, however, was to speed up. Almost beside himself with frustrated anger, Harry pounded the Toyota wheel and grunted in pain. He had to stop the damn bus without killing everybody within range, and hit upon an audacious method.
He floored the Toyota’s gas pedal, then reached down to grab the hand brake. As soon as he felt enough speed and saw the back of the bus blotting out everything else, he pulled up on the brake lever, and ducked.
The Toyota’s wheels locked and squealed in smoking torture as the car smashed into the back of the bus.
Harry was thrown tightly against the front seat, but he had prepared himself well. The seat back held him without snapping any delicate bones. And it stopped the bus. No municipal driver in his right mind was going to roll away from an accident.
Sure enough, when Harry kicked open the car door and dragged himself out, he saw the bus braking and the front door opening. But instead of the driver, out came Denise Patterson.
She took off between cars, as Harry got to his feet to give chase. Only then did the livid bus driver appear and clamp his meaty hands around the back of Callahan’s neck.
“You miserable son of a bitch,” the driver seethed, surprising Harry with the strength of his grip. “What the shit do you think you’re doing? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
The driver had Harry at a disadvantage, to say the least. The cop was intent on where Patterson was heading, but the driver had him in a choking grip. Harry’s hands were useless for grabbing the man behind him, so Harry brought all his weight down on the driver’s foot.
The man screeched and the neck hold loosened. Harry spun, letting the turn give extra speed to his right fist, which slammed across the driver’s jaw. The meaty transportation man went down like a sack of potatoes.
That didn’t sit very well with the rest of his passengers. Some street people started getting off the bus with lynching in their eyes. Harry stopped the forward flow by dragging out his Magnum.
“Police business,” he spat. “Take care of him,” he continued, motioning to the felled driver as he turned. There was an angry buzzing in his ears. He looked up in time to see a low-flying helicopter. Ignoring it, he turned in the direction he had last seen the woman.
He made it around just in time to see Patterson disappearing into a doorway and down a flight of steps. The sign above the entrance said it all: Lincoln Way/Waller Street Station—BART.
Denise Patterson had gone into the subway.
C H A P T E R
S e v e n
E verything had worked perfectly until after the hospital. But the killer of Martha Murray reported in to his superiors without doubt. He had seen the danger this Inspector Callahan represented, and recommended that the cop be terminated.
But he wasn’t making the suggestion out of logic: he was working on a hunch. He had seen Harry close up in the hospital. Determination and ability were written all over the police vet’s face. The killer instantly saw that Harry would grab onto a tiger’s tail and not let go.
The Program, however, prided itself on its self-preserving decisions based on computer-aided logic. The computers had announced that the Inspector’s chances of affecting the Program were a million to one. Harry had beaten the odds. He had survived the hospital horror and showed up where and when it was least desirable.
They should have let me handle the Patterson Operation, the killer thought with pride as he weaved in and out of the late-night crowd. If they had, it wouldn’t have been necessary to risk my exposure on this mop-up mission.
The hospital operation had gone perfectly. The killer had merely slipped into Maggin’s examining room disguised as an intern—walking right past Patrolman Petrillo—and injected
And it wasn’t long before the bus driver noticed his insane antics. The bus driver’s reaction, however, was to speed up. Almost beside himself with frustrated anger, Harry pounded the Toyota wheel and grunted in pain. He had to stop the damn bus without killing everybody within range, and hit upon an audacious method.
He floored the Toyota’s gas pedal, then reached down to grab the hand brake. As soon as he felt enough speed and saw the back of the bus blotting out everything else, he pulled up on the brake lever, and ducked.
The Toyota’s wheels locked and squealed in smoking torture as the car smashed into the back of the bus.
Harry was thrown tightly against the front seat, but he had prepared himself well. The seat back held him without snapping any delicate bones. And it stopped the bus. No municipal driver in his right mind was going to roll away from an accident.
Sure enough, when Harry kicked open the car door and dragged himself out, he saw the bus braking and the front door opening. But instead of the driver, out came Denise Patterson.
She took off between cars, as Harry got to his feet to give chase. Only then did the livid bus driver appear and clamp his meaty hands around the back of Callahan’s neck.
“You miserable son of a bitch,” the driver seethed, surprising Harry with the strength of his grip. “What the shit do you think you’re doing? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
The driver had Harry at a disadvantage, to say the least. The cop was intent on where Patterson was heading, but the driver had him in a choking grip. Harry’s hands were useless for grabbing the man behind him, so Harry brought all his weight down on the driver’s foot.
The man screeched and the neck hold loosened. Harry spun, letting the turn give extra speed to his right fist, which slammed across the driver’s jaw. The meaty transportation man went down like a sack of potatoes.
That didn’t sit very well with the rest of his passengers. Some street people started getting off the bus with lynching in their eyes. Harry stopped the forward flow by dragging out his Magnum.
“Police business,” he spat. “Take care of him,” he continued, motioning to the felled driver as he turned. There was an angry buzzing in his ears. He looked up in time to see a low-flying helicopter. Ignoring it, he turned in the direction he had last seen the woman.
He made it around just in time to see Patterson disappearing into a doorway and down a flight of steps. The sign above the entrance said it all: Lincoln Way/Waller Street Station—BART.
Denise Patterson had gone into the subway.
C H A P T E R
S e v e n
E verything had worked perfectly until after the hospital. But the killer of Martha Murray reported in to his superiors without doubt. He had seen the danger this Inspector Callahan represented, and recommended that the cop be terminated.
But he wasn’t making the suggestion out of logic: he was working on a hunch. He had seen Harry close up in the hospital. Determination and ability were written all over the police vet’s face. The killer instantly saw that Harry would grab onto a tiger’s tail and not let go.
The Program, however, prided itself on its self-preserving decisions based on computer-aided logic. The computers had announced that the Inspector’s chances of affecting the Program were a million to one. Harry had beaten the odds. He had survived the hospital horror and showed up where and when it was least desirable.
They should have let me handle the Patterson Operation, the killer thought with pride as he weaved in and out of the late-night crowd. If they had, it wouldn’t have been necessary to risk my exposure on this mop-up mission.
The hospital operation had gone perfectly. The killer had merely slipped into Maggin’s examining room disguised as an intern—walking right past Patrolman Petrillo—and injected
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