Assignment - Mara Tirana by Edward S. Aarons Read Free Book Online Page B

that gave his face a cruel and arrogant look.
    “Ask me the questions, Cajun, not Otto,” Hammett said, grinning. “Otto is scared of a little blood.” Hammett’s voice was thin and light. His biceps rippled as he lifted his arms to lean in the doorway. “You don’t like what happened to the smart-aleck punk?”
    “He came to help us. Why get so rough with him?” “Like I said, he was smart. He wants extra dough, I think; he tried to hold out. Wouldn’t give the name of the barge this Gija gook is supposed to be waiting on.”
    “Did you get the name?”
    “I got it,” Harry said. He laughed lightly. “You know me, Cajun, I don’t take no for an answer, especially from a gook kid.”
    “You were pretty rough with him.”
    “And you don’t like it? You got nothing to say about it. You don’t belong here. I suggest you get out right now, Cajun.”
    Otto said timidly: “Please, gentlemen—”
    “Shut up, Otto,” Hammett said, without looking at him. “Pack up your troubles in your old kitbag, Durell, and hike back home to your desk. This is my job, and I do it my way. You don’t like it, you can type up a nasty report, right? I’ll answer for it when I get back home with Stepanic.” “Why did you take Deirdre here with you, Harry?” “Maybe just to needle you, Cajun. You don’t like that, either? Or maybe she just loves this Stepanic flyboy so much, she wants to be waiting for him with open arms when I bring him back. That Deirdre, Cajun, you lost a real woman there.”
    The boy on the cot groaned louder. His eyes flickered, opened, closed, opened again. Durell looked at him and walked to the side of the cot. From the boy’s shapeless, broken mouth came inarticulate animal sounds of pain. Durell said gently: “Anton, can you hear me?”
    “Wha—?”
    The boy’s eyes looked up blindly at Durell. Then they touched Otto Hoffner’s nervous little figure and found Harry Hammett’s tall bulk in the pantry doorway. Fear suddenly flamed high in the boy’s glance. He made a thin, wailing sound. Hammett grinned. Durell put out a hand to touch the boy’s brow.
    “You’re with friends,” he said quietly. The boy’s mouth worked on an obscenity. “Believe me, Anton. It was a mistake.”
    The boy made a spitting noise.
    “Get away from him,” Hammett said flatly. “Don’t interfere, Cajun. I warn you.”
    Durell’s mouth was pale with anger. “Or what will you do, Harry?”
    “Throw you out. I could make it, too.”
    “Any time,” Durell said. “Try.”
    “Just get away from that boy. Fm not finished with him yet.”
    “You’re finished. You’re all through.” Durell swung away from the cot and spoke to Hoffner. “Otto, call the American Embassy and ask them for a doctor and tell them to make confidential arrangements for a hospital bed for this man. Go ahead, do it now.”
    Otto hesitated.
    Hammett said: “Stay where you are, Otto.”
    Otto looked agonized.
    Durell said: “All right, Otto, I'll do it myself.”
    He started for the door. Hammett blocked his way;, giant arms still uplifted, resting on the casement. “Stay out of this, Cajun,” he said thickly. “I’ve warned you. You have no official position here.”
    “Get out of my way.”
    Hammett did not move. His pale brown eyes were hooded, glittering sullenly. A thin shine of perspiration was on his handsome face. From the cot came a strange, giggling sound as the boy lifted himself on his elbows and laughed. Otto came forward with a quick, mincing step.
    “Please, gentlemen. Remember, we must not have the local police here under any circumstances, and no disturbances whatever. Please!”
    Hammett looked hesitant.
    “I’ll call for a doctor when I’m ready,” he muttered. “Call him now,” Durell said. “But first the Embassy.” For another moment Hammett stared at him, mouth tightened in a harsh line. Then he shrugged and dropped his massive arms from the doorway. Durell was ready to react instantly to any