Read Online Gideon's War/Hard Target by Howard Gordon - Free Book Online
Authors: Howard Gordon
Ads: Link
Asian man was standing behind the counter of the open-fronted shop. He wore a black shirt and an Indiana Pacers cap, canted low over his taut, anxious face.
His nose wrinkled at the smell of the stranger. “What the hell happened to you?” The young man had a perfect American accent.
Gideon considered how to answer. “Long story.”
“Get in here.”
Gideon looked around, then walked inside.
“Dude, this town’s crawling with those jihadi assholes.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Did you just get dropped off a spaceship?”
“Something like that,” Gideon said.
“Are you not aware that the insurgents took over like half the province yesterday? Look at them the wrong way, they’ll drag your ass off the street and shoot you.”
“Good to know,” Gideon said, peering out the door before turning back to the young man. “Do you have a phone I could use?”
The guy shook his head. “They cut the lines. And cell coverage has always been shit around here. But listen, my family’s heading to KM as soon as it gets dark. You can come with us. If my grandfather wasn’t sick, we’d have been gone already.”
“Kota Mohan’s downriver. I’m going upriver.”
“Upriver?” The young Chinese guy stared at him. “What the hell for?”
“I’ve got someone waiting for me with a boat. His name’s Daryl Eng.”
“I don’t think so, dude. Daryl headed for KM like eight hours ago. Took his whole family.”
Gideon felt a spike of dread. “How do you know this?”
“Daryl’s Chinese, se y‘€ame as me. We pretty much stick together around here. My people have been here for like three hundred years, but the Muslims still consider us outsiders and infidels and all that shit.”
For a moment, Gideon considered taking the young man up on his offer. But only for a moment. “I need to get upriver. Do you know anyone who might be able to help me?”
The young man laughed. “Maybe a psychiatrist.” When Gideon didn’t laugh, the young man shrugged. “Your funeral, bro.”
Gideon smiled. “You sound like you’re from Ohio.”
“Indiana. Lived in Fort Wayne for ten years, then went to college at IU in Bloomington.” He held up his hand, showing off a heavy gold college ring. “Bachelor’s degree in chemical engineering. Came back here temporarily to help out with a family business situation and—”
His words were cut short by a burst of machine-gun fire somewhere in the distance. A truck engine raced, getting closer and closer.
“Get down!” the young man said.
Gideon was barely able to conceal himself behind the counter when a Toyota pickup packed with heavily armed young men, some of them only boys, cruised down the street. Gideon waited for the truck to pass before he stood.
“You wanna buy an AK?” the young man said. “Four-seventy-five, U.S. If you want something cheaper, I got a nice Mossberg pump with a pistol grip and—”
Gideon shook his head. “I have to go.”
The young man cocked his head and studied Gideon’s face. “You’re serious. You’re really gonna head upriver . . . unarmed. What are you, a missionary?”
Gideon felt compelled to tell him his story but decided to keep it simple. “There’s some family business I need to take care of.”
The young man nodded sympathetically. “Same reason I’m here. Family’s family, right?” Then he wrote something on a piece of paper, handed it to Gideon. “You got enough money, this guy’ll take you anywhere.”
Before Gideon could look at the paper, he heard tires screeching outside. The Toyota pickup was doing a U-turn somewhere down the street.
“They’re coming back. Someone ratted you out.”
“Is there a back way out of here?”
The young man ushered Gideon toward the rear of the shop, into a small room that smelled of fried food. Eight people were crammed inside, staring fearfully at him as he moved past them and out the back door, which deposited him in a squalid alley. Beyond its
His nose wrinkled at the smell of the stranger. “What the hell happened to you?” The young man had a perfect American accent.
Gideon considered how to answer. “Long story.”
“Get in here.”
Gideon looked around, then walked inside.
“Dude, this town’s crawling with those jihadi assholes.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Did you just get dropped off a spaceship?”
“Something like that,” Gideon said.
“Are you not aware that the insurgents took over like half the province yesterday? Look at them the wrong way, they’ll drag your ass off the street and shoot you.”
“Good to know,” Gideon said, peering out the door before turning back to the young man. “Do you have a phone I could use?”
The guy shook his head. “They cut the lines. And cell coverage has always been shit around here. But listen, my family’s heading to KM as soon as it gets dark. You can come with us. If my grandfather wasn’t sick, we’d have been gone already.”
“Kota Mohan’s downriver. I’m going upriver.”
“Upriver?” The young Chinese guy stared at him. “What the hell for?”
“I’ve got someone waiting for me with a boat. His name’s Daryl Eng.”
“I don’t think so, dude. Daryl headed for KM like eight hours ago. Took his whole family.”
Gideon felt a spike of dread. “How do you know this?”
“Daryl’s Chinese, se y‘€ame as me. We pretty much stick together around here. My people have been here for like three hundred years, but the Muslims still consider us outsiders and infidels and all that shit.”
For a moment, Gideon considered taking the young man up on his offer. But only for a moment. “I need to get upriver. Do you know anyone who might be able to help me?”
The young man laughed. “Maybe a psychiatrist.” When Gideon didn’t laugh, the young man shrugged. “Your funeral, bro.”
Gideon smiled. “You sound like you’re from Ohio.”
“Indiana. Lived in Fort Wayne for ten years, then went to college at IU in Bloomington.” He held up his hand, showing off a heavy gold college ring. “Bachelor’s degree in chemical engineering. Came back here temporarily to help out with a family business situation and—”
His words were cut short by a burst of machine-gun fire somewhere in the distance. A truck engine raced, getting closer and closer.
“Get down!” the young man said.
Gideon was barely able to conceal himself behind the counter when a Toyota pickup packed with heavily armed young men, some of them only boys, cruised down the street. Gideon waited for the truck to pass before he stood.
“You wanna buy an AK?” the young man said. “Four-seventy-five, U.S. If you want something cheaper, I got a nice Mossberg pump with a pistol grip and—”
Gideon shook his head. “I have to go.”
The young man cocked his head and studied Gideon’s face. “You’re serious. You’re really gonna head upriver . . . unarmed. What are you, a missionary?”
Gideon felt compelled to tell him his story but decided to keep it simple. “There’s some family business I need to take care of.”
The young man nodded sympathetically. “Same reason I’m here. Family’s family, right?” Then he wrote something on a piece of paper, handed it to Gideon. “You got enough money, this guy’ll take you anywhere.”
Before Gideon could look at the paper, he heard tires screeching outside. The Toyota pickup was doing a U-turn somewhere down the street.
“They’re coming back. Someone ratted you out.”
“Is there a back way out of here?”
The young man ushered Gideon toward the rear of the shop, into a small room that smelled of fried food. Eight people were crammed inside, staring fearfully at him as he moved past them and out the back door, which deposited him in a squalid alley. Beyond its
Similar Books
