A Time to Slaughter by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page A

meet your standards. I don’t deal in shoddy goods.”
    â€œThen the only one in doubt is the scar-faced woman.”
    â€œTrixie will meet your standards, Ali. She knows how to please a man.” Moss smiled. “Even a flea-bitten Arab.”
    Ali smiled faintly. “Mr. Moss, I am but dirt under your feet and therefore do not mind, but do not say such words to the great and noble Sheik Abdul-Basir Hakim. He has a quick temper and has killed two score men and countless women with the sword.”
    Zebulon Moss was unimpressed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
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    The basement of the Lucky Lady saloon had been hewn out of solid rock. No bigger than a jail cell, it was dark, dank, and dreary. An iron cot stood against one wall, a slop pail against another, and nothing else.
    Zeb Moss took the flight of stone steps leading down to the room, the oil lamp in his hand splashing a dim yellow light on the damp walls.
    The bed creaked as Julia Davenport got to her feet and waited to speak until Moss stood in front of her. “You’ve come here to beat me, Zeb. I tell you now, you can beat me senseless but it won’t do any good. I’m not your woman any longer, nor do I wish to be ever again.”
    Moss smiled, huge white teeth gleaming in the gloom. “I’m not here to beat you, Trixie. Nor do I want you. Hell, I’ve already got another woman, and she’s a sight prettier than you.” As cruelly as he could, he added, “And her face ain’t scarred.”
    â€œThen what do you want from me?” Julia said. “Let me go.”
    â€œI need you, Trixie.”
    â€œFor what? You don’t need anyone.”
    â€œIt’s true that I don’t need your body any longer, but I do need the thousand dollars you represent. A few of my business ventures have not gone well of late.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about, Zeb?”
    â€œI’m selling you, my dear.”
    â€œI didn’t think I was worth that much.”
    â€œYou’re not, but my Arab friends think otherwise.”
    Julia was an intelligent woman, and she knew immediately what Moss was saying. “You’re selling me into slavery?”
    â€œBravo!” Moss said. “How very perceptive of you, my dear.”
    â€œZeb, you can’t do that to me!”
    â€œOh, but I can. You’re destined for the Zanzibar slave market. I’m told it’s a very pretty island off the coast of East Africa. You’ll like it there. Sunny all day long, I’m told.”
    â€œThat can’t happen . . . the authorities . . .”
    â€œWhat authorities? The Americans don’t care and the British thought they’d shut down the Zanzibar slave markets, but they still prosper.” Moss smiled. “As do the officials fresh from London who turn a blind eye to what’s going on. I believe some of them get quite rich off the slave trade.”
    Julia felt a spike of real fear. “You’ll never get me there alive.”
    â€œThat is a matter of complete indifference to me, Trixie. I get paid when I deliver you to the Arabs. As to what happens after that . . . well, I just don’t give a damn.”
    Julia was unable to talk, but Moss spoke into the silence. “Look on the bright side, Trixie. You’ll end up in a brothel or some rich Arab sheik’s harem. You’ll be kept alive until your prettiness fades and your body sags, say in two, three years.”
    â€œYou filthy rat!” Julia shrieked. She lashed out at Moss, but he caught her wrist and pulled her close to him. “You ran away from me once, Trixie. You won’t get a chance to do it a second time.”
    The woman wrenched free, then sat on the bed, her face in her hands. When she looked up at Moss her face was streaked with tears. “Zeb, have mercy on me. Let me go. Please, let me go back to being a schoolteacher.”
    Moss snorted. “A whore