Read Online Three to Kill by Jean-Patrick Manchette - Free Book Online Page A

Orly airport. Thereafter it thinned out somewhat, moving faster and more dangerously. Gerfaut did not bear right in the direction of Orléans but continued on toward Lyons.
    â€œThis is crazy. Where’s he going now?” A note of genuine anxiety inflected Carlo’s fury.
    â€œI agree with you on that,” said Bastien. “I think we go now.”
    â€œGo now? What the hell does that mean, ‘go now’?”
    â€œPull up alongside,” replied Bastien.
    Carlo calmed down instantly. He even lifted his foot slightly from the gas pedal. The distance between the Lancia and the Taunus began to grow, soon surpassing five hundred meters.
    â€œNo! Never on the highway. That’s the rule. No, my friend. Shit, a highway is an absolute trap.”
    â€œSuppose we wait till just before an exit,” White Streaks suggested. “We ram him and get off right away.”
    â€œRight. And at the exit we run straight into motorcycle cops. You really are a dumb shit.”
    â€œThat’s not what you usually say.”
    â€œGive me a fucking break, okay?”
    Bastien fell silent.
    Just as night was falling, Gerfaut abruptly left the highway. Because of the delays near Paris they were only now approaching Mâcon. The two hit men had not eaten dinner. Nor had Gerfaut. The Taunus went through Mâcon and forged southwest. For a brief moment its sidelights came on. As yet, the Lancia had none of its lights on. Carlo was leaning forward slightly in his seat, his eyes narrowed. He drove fast. The distance between the Taunus and the Lancia had shrunk. Then one of the Lancia’s tires blew out. The Italian car wove back and forth from one side of the road to the other. Carlo clung tightly to the wheel, teeth clenched, and uttered not a sound. Bastien jammed his head onto the headrest and crossed his arms across his face. The blown tire, left rear, swelled and began to shred. Its temperature rose violently. A cloud of white smoke rose behind the Lancia, and the stink of burnt rubber filled the car. Eventually, as Carlo shifted down into second, the vehicle rolled onto the right shoulder and came to rest in a gravel pile. Carlo and Bastien leaped from the car, cursing wildly, especially Carlo. They got out the jack and the spare tire. The taillights of the Taunus had disappeared round a bend far ahead. Bastien took a flashlight from the glove compartment and held it on Carlo as he changed the tire in one minute and forty seconds.
    â€œLet me drive,” said Bastien.
    He took the wheel. Carlo jumped in beside him. They fastened their seatbelts and pulled back onto the road without even throwing up any gravel. Bastien was a meticulous and scientific driver. He put on his sidelights and his headlights and drove as fast as he could. On a number of straight stretches, he got up to 160 kilometers per hour.
    â€œWe should be able to see him,” said Carlo.
    They were approaching a town. They could see its lights against the black background of the foothills of the Alps, which blocked the horizon. To their left, a freight train rattled along. On the right, a service station appeared, small but well illuminated. The Taunus was standing at the pumps. In shirtsleeves in front of the car, Gerfaut was stretching and clasping his lower back and drawing on a Gitane filter. Pumping the gas was a young man in a smart uniform and a red canvas hat. The gas station had opened only recently, which explained the attendant’s impeccable manner and appearance. Nonplussed, Bastien stamped on the brake pedal. The Lancia halted with a horrible screech of tires just past the gas station exit. Gerfaut turned his head and saw the Lancia and, through its right front window, Carlo, who was looking straight at him. Wheeling, he reached through his car’s open window and grabbed the Star from his jacket. Hastily and clumsily he released the safety on the automatic.
    â€œPut your hands up!” he announced