Day of Independence by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

of pain coming from inside. He smiled. Jess Gable was doped up on morphine, or he’d be screaming by now.
    Ah well, perhaps it was easier this way. Quicker, certainly.
    Silently, Hacker turned the door handle and stepped into the room.
    For a few moments he stood still and let his eyes adjust to the gloom.
    The air was fetid, heavy with the stench of a man’s ruptured bowels and the strange, elusive vanilla odor of morphine.
    On the bed, Gable moaned, the pain that was beyond pain building in his belly again.
    Morphine is a good friend, but ultimately a fleeting and treacherous one.
    Hacker took the Scottish dirk from his pocket.
    A gift from some visiting British diplomat in Washington, it was not the puny pea-sticker worn as part of Highland dress, but a heavy fighting knife with a thirteen-inch blade, forged a hundred and fifty years before from meteoritic iron by a blacksmith who was said to have sold his soul to the devil in return for the secrets of steel.
    A shaft of moonlight angled through an opening in the curtains and rippled on the blade as Hacker stepped on quiet feet to the bed.
    His breath hissed between his thick lips, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His eyes, hidden in shadow, and the whiteness of his face gave him the look of a skull.
    â€œJess, are you awake?” he whispered.
    Gable lay on his back, and the grayness of death gathered in the hollows of his cheeks and temples. His pale lips were flecked with blood.
    He made no answer.
    â€œAll right, Jess, we’ll do it the hard way,” Hacker said, smiling.
    He raised his arm and brought the silver, disc-shaped pommel of the knife down hard into Gable’s belly.
    The dying gunman’s eyes flew open and he shrieked in mortal agony.
    Hacker’s beefy hand quickly covered Gable’s mouth and stifled his screams.
    He brought his mouth close to the man’s ear and whispered, “You couldn’t even get rid of a sick Ranger for me, you yellow, worthless dog turd.”
    Gable violently kicked his legs and tried to rise, his frantic eyes filled with fear and pain.
    Hacker enjoyed the feel of the man’s open mouth against his palm, the saliva slickness of his silent screams.
    A morphine syringe stood on the table beside the bed.
    â€œJess, do you want your medicine?” Hacker said. “Would you like that?”
    The man lay still for a moment, then nodded, his wide-open eyes pleading.
    â€œNo!” Hacker said, enjoying himself. “You don’t deserve to have it after the way you failed me.”
    Jess Gable was not a cowardly man. He made a supreme effort to fight back his pain, and his lips moved as he mumbled something into Hacker’s suffocating hand.
    â€œWhat’s that, Jess? I didn’t hear you,” Hacker said.
    Gable’s lips moved again.
    â€œLet me take my hand away, Jess,” Hacker said. He giggled, his jowls quivering. “I’m such a good nurse, am I not?”
    This time Gable managed to speak... just two words.
    â€œKill me,” he whispered.
    His head cocked to the side like an inquisitive bird, Hacker said, “I’m thinking about it, Jess.” He smiled. “Hey, yellow belly, how’s your poor little tummy-tum?”
    â€œPlease...” Gable said, his voice as soft as a woman’s sigh.
    â€œWell, you didn’t even laugh at my good joke, and thanks to your whining this is getting boring,” Hacker said. “It’s time I returned to my warm bed and willing woman.” He grinned. “That make you jealous, Jess, huh?”
    Gable grimaced, his teeth bared against the waves of agony that broke over him with fiendish intensity.
    Then, for the first time since he was a child, his lips moved in prayer.
    â€œWell, that does it for me,” Hacker said. “Jess, you really are a worthless lowlife. And I’ve got nobody to blame but myself for hiring you in the first place.”
    He held the knife low, ready