Read Online The Prone Gunman by Jean-Patrick Manchette - Free Book Online Page B

Terrier has a gun. I can tell you where!”
    Anne turned toward Félix and sized him up. He was pitiful and pathetic with his hair sticky with blood and the mixture of blood, tears, and mucus that trickled from his nose. Rossana Rossi was also looking at Félix.
    â€œIn his leather coat,” said Félix. “On the coat rack over there.” With an indistinct movement of his head, he indicated the rack where Terrier’s leather coat hung, at the far end of the room. “The hell with you, you stupid jerk,” added Félix for the benefit of Terrier, who was not looking at him. Then Anne’s husband closed his eyes and carefully palpated his nose. “I can’t breathe anymore except through my mouth!” he whined.
    The short fat man, a CZ automatic dangling from the end of his pudgy arm, exchanged glances with Rossana Rossi, nodded his head, and crossed the room. He found the HK4 in the outside pocket of the leather coat and came back, fiddling with the weapon with a contented look. The brunette brought her gaze back to Terrier.
    â€œWell, then?” she said.
    â€œTie them up and take them upstairs.”
    â€œWe’re wasting time,” said the brunette.
    â€œHe’s right!” proclaimed Félix. “Take us upstairs! We don’t have anything to do with your fucking problems!”
    â€œKill him,” the brunette said to the short fat man, who pocketed his CZ and worked the action of the HK4.
    â€œWait, you’re crazy!” shouted Félix. “Wait, Terrier is in love with my wife! Take me upstairs and keep my wife to make him talk!”
    He gave Rossana Rossi a supplicating look. She half smiled. Terrier had closed his eyes; he gave a long sigh. The short fat man glanced at the brunette. She nodded, and he aimed the HK4 at Félix Schrader’s head and pulled the trigger. The weapon made considerable noise in the enclosed room. Félix’s head exploded. Organic debris flew in several directions and splattered against the walls and windows. Félix’s corpse collapsed all at once on its side, with a thud. The smell of cordite hung in the air.
    Terrier looked at Anne. She seemed absolutely calm, except that she had sunk her teeth into her lower lip.
    â€œDucio,” the brunette said to the young guy, “look around, there must be candles somewhere in this shack. Find me a candle.” Her hands were in the pockets of her raincoat. She leaned slightly toward Terrier. “We’re going to put a candle in cutie pie’s vagina,” she announced with seeming affability.
    â€œI killed your brother with a carbine, on a road in northern Italy,” said Terrier. “I don’t remember the date. What else do you want to know?”
    The man called Ducio had gone into the kitchen where he was opening drawers and dumping their contents on the floor.
    â€œWe’d like to know why.”
    â€œI can’t go on,” Anne said suddenly. She rolled on the ground, emitting sharp little groans. Her limbs trembled. Her eyes turned up, and her teeth were bared. Her convulsions moved her almost a meter on her back, and then her body relaxed and she began breathing deeply. The whites of her eyes were visible between her lids. She stopped moving.
    â€œHow did you find me?” asked Terrier.
    Rossana Rossi shook her head.
    â€œYou’ll die without knowing. That’s harder,” she said. “We’ll finish you and cutie pie off quickly if you tell us everything.”
    â€œI killed a certain number of people in recent years because I was ordered to,” said Terrier. “I worked regularly for a guy by the name of Cox. An American. That’s all I know.”
    â€œNo. You obviously know a lot more than that.”
    Terrier sighed and began giving a rather exact physical description of Cox. There was dribble at the corners of Anne’s mouth. Her convulsions had brought her close to the fireplace,