Dirty Harry 04 - The Mexico Kill by Dane Hartman Read Free Book Online Page A

only objective here was to put a stop to the fight, though he had no idea just how he was going to go about this.
    Hunkered down, he waited for the battle to define itself, for a strategy on the part of one side or the other to become evident. He was certain that this unrewarding exchange of fire couldn’t go on much longer. With everyone dug in and protected as they were, no one stood a chance in hell to hit his enemy. Sooner or later someone was going to move or else they would all have to give up, go home, and think about other ways of passing a Thursday evening in San Francisco.
    In his assessment of the situation, Harry proved correct, though this did not necessarily mean anyone would give him any awards for the accuracy of his judgment. When it came to awards, people seemed more interested in taking them away from him.
    In any case, someone moved, then someone else joined him. They didn’t risk exposing themselves on the knoll. There were better and less painful ways of committing suicide, after all. Instead they clung to the darkness that was especially friendly on the perimeter of the knoll; there there were the trees and the brambles and brush. Their opponents apparently had failed to see them because they were still aiming in the same general direction as before. One of the men had stayed behind, maintaining an even level of fire so as to give his friends more time in which to skirt around the knoll and spring their little surprise.
    Harry couldn’t resist spoiling their fun. It was simply too much of a temptation. He was the wild card in the deck, the X part of the equation. Since he had the two men in view—and the view was growing better all the time since they kept coming closer, having no idea that Harry was monitoring their progress—he decided to wait no longer. He raised his Magnum and fired—but not to hit either of them. That wasn’t his purpose.
    Astonished, even a bit incredulous, the two gunmen jumped back, firing wildly since they couldn’t understand where this unexpected assault had originated. Harry fired again. And now, alerted to the two men’s presence, their enemies on the opposite end of the knoll began firing in their direction too. Someone’s aim was good or else he was just lucky. The man who was hit probably wouldn’t spend much time contemplating which it was; the blood was pumping out of his lower back too fast for him to pay much attention to anything else. He lay in a bed of green detritus, but wouldn’t stay still. Instead he thrashed about, screaming words that got drowned out by the increasing fury of the bullets flying every which way over the knoll.
    The second man apparently managed to get himself to shelter before he was hit. His flight seemed to encourage the assailants across the knoll because now one of their number emerged, testing the atmosphere, maybe in preparation for a full-scale assault. Could be these jokers were playing at World War II? Harry thought. Summer nights can get boring around town.
    Harry set out with the intention of circling around the knoll, laying down a barrage that wasn’t meant to hit anyone but rather to confuse them. And confuse them it did. They fired at Harry, they fired at each other, they went through one clip after another, trying like hell to achieve something significant for all their trouble.
    Way in the distance, sounding more like cows bellowing than anything else, you could make out the sirens of the squad cars. High time help arrived, Harry thought. But help was a mixed blessing. The appearance of the police might panic these gun-wielding gentlemen and result in considerably more bloodshed. Not that Harry cared about these characters, but he feared for the lives of the men he served with—or used to serve with before a D.A. named Nolan began reciting Supreme Court decisions to him.
    It seemed to him that he was at a point midway between the two groups of gunmen. But for the moment he had no way of knowing since the fire had