Read Online SILENT GUNS by Bob Neir - Free Book Online

two cuts of sizzling
salmon.
    “ Time changes people. Harper
wasn’t as Madden remembered him.”
    “ Buried eight years up in Canada,
I heard. No surprise. How did you find him?” Simons
asked.
    “ Being a Navy man, I figured he’d
hang around Vancouver harbor. I tried the authorities, but they
were no help. No interest in sailors evading the clutches of
American justice. Just showed his picture around the waterfront
bars and finally got a tip from a bartender.” I did the rounds
until I hit on the right one, the Wee Willie Tavern.
    A black man, he sat alone at a small round table
under a conical lampshade, his teeth sparkled white in the shadows.
His lips were thick, his nose flat, eyes a very dark brown. His
face was uncharacteristically thin.
    “ Ben Harper?”
    “ Aye, who wants to
know?”
    “ Tony Trent.” A foot stirred and a
chair slid back. Harper’s hair was gray and cropped short. A dark
blue sweater, pulled taut covered a muscular frame. A cigarette
dangled from his lips.
    “ What’ll it be, Bud?” the
bartender asked, compulsively wiping his one-time white
apron.
    “ Whiskey and seven. I don’t know…”
Trent nodded towards Harper. The bartender interrupted, “He’s a
regular,” turned and walked away.
    “ Do you remember me?” Trent
asked.
    “ Should I?” His eyes were dark and
restless.
    “ Peter Madden tells me you’re the
best with big guns.”
    “ That won’t buy me a cup of
coffee.”
    “ Got a job?”
    “ Nope. Not much around for an
ex-gunner. And, if I had a job, I wouldn’t hang around a dump like
this.” Harper raised his voice just loud enough for the bartender
to overhear. The bartender looked over, shrugged, and turned back
to pouring drinks. Harper smirked as he stamped out his cigarette.
The bartender set down two drinks. Harper swept his off the
table.
    “ Bring a bottle. I’ll open it
myself,” Harper belched. “Charge it to my friend here with all the
questions. Gotta watch this guy, he skims the booze, adds water and
sticks you for full tariff.” The bartender returned. Harper grabbed
the bottle, cracked it open, slopped whiskey into a glass and
downed two in quick succession. “Now, that’s the real stuff. On
this I could get drunk.” He laughed as he pulled at another
cigarette. His hands quivered as he held the match. The flare
revealed a taut face, a goatee and a pair of bloodshot eyes. As
Harper realized Trent was staring at him, he blew out the flame. “I
served as gunner’s mate on the cruisers Manchester , the Baltimore and ended my career on the Missouri . I
should say the Navy ended my career. I’ve been picking up odd jobs
ever since.”
    “ Madden explained why you’re
here.”
    “ Madden told you?”
    “ Everything.”
    “ I’m safe as long as I stay here
in Canada.” He frowned with sudden severity. “If it’s guns, I’m
your man.”
    “ You’ll have to come back to the
States.”
    “ How long?”
    “ Two months.”
    “ Too risky.”
    “ I’ll get you across the
border.”
    “ How much?”
    “ Five-million.”
    “ Five-million,” Harper eyed him
coolly. He leaned back against the wall, and then closed his eyes
tightly.
    “ It’s a dangerous job. You have to
be in top shape…And sober. Or, it’s no deal.”
    Harper wiped his face with his sleeve then reached
for the bottle. Trent swept it to the floor. Aghast, Harper watched
the bottle shatter, amber fluid pool, then drain into crevices in
the dry, wooden floor.
    “ Damn your hide,” Harper rose from
his chair. Trent didn’t move a muscle, and then calmly lifted his
drink to his lips. “Cheers,” Trent said, raising the glass. He held
eye contact as he fingered his pocket. He drew out a brown, sealed
packet and tossed it on the table. “That should see you through
until I come for you. Brush up on how to fire a
16-incher.”
    Harper covered the packet with his hand.
    “ You’ll find cash and written
instructions inside. Follow them to the letter.”