Ghosts of Manhattan by George Mann Read Free Book Online Page A

open, with its sinister invitation to climb inside. He continued to walk.
    "Inspector Donovan. I really think it would be in your best interest to take me up on my offer to talk." The voice was thin and reedy, highpitched for a man, and all the more minacious because of it. It emanated from the rear of the vehicle.
    Donovan could see that the crook hanging out of the passenger window was now brandishing a snub-nosed automatic and was waving it in his direction. His options looked pretty limited. If he went for his own weapon, he'd likely be dropped by the goon before he had chance to draw it. But who was the character in the back of the car, and what the hell did he want? Was it some sort of elaborate trap? Was he going to end up like that poor bastard Landsworth? He shuddered at the thought.
    Donovan stopped walking and turned to regard the vehicle. The driver hit the brakes and the car swung in alongside the curb. Donovan felt his pulse quicken. The back of his neck was damp with perspiration, despite the chill. He held his arms out in front of him to show that he had no intention of making any sudden moves. But he did not approach the vehicle. "Why don't you come out here and talk?" He gave a wry smile. He knew he was walking close to the line. "I have difficulties with confined spaces."

    The goon in the front waved his weapon more forcefully in Donovan's direction. "It doesn't do to refuse a direct invitation from Mr. Gideon, policeman. I suggest you get into the car now."
    Shrugging, Donovan approached the open door. If it was a choice between that and being riddled with bullets on the sidewalk, well, at least this way he had a fighting chance. Resting a hand on the roof of the vehicle, he peered inside. A thin, spidery man, silhouetted by the weak light thrown out by the burning end of his cigar, sat in the back of the car, one leg folded atop the other. He was dressed in an exquisite black evening suit. He turned to look at Donovan and offered him a wicked smile. "You see, Inspector, we're not going to bite." The man chuckled, and the sound was like ice water running down Donovan's spine. "Please, get in, take a seat. It's late. Allow me to escort you home."
    Donovan cringed at the thought that these people-whoever they turned out to be-knew where he lived. Still, it was too late to make a run for it now.
    Dipping his head, Donovan slid into the car beside the thin man, clicking the door shut behind him. It was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The man in the back was like a pale specter, the glowing end of his cigar the only source of light in the whole vehicle. The front seats were separated from the rear compartment by a glass partition. Donovan wrinkled his nose. The vehicle was filled with the scent of damp earth, intermingled with the pungent stench of the cigar smoke.
    Donovan leaned back against the firm leather seat as the car purred softly away from the curb. He was reassured by the weight of the automatic in his pocket, and the fact that the goon in the front no longer had a bead on him, although he was quite sure that any wrong moves now would be swiftly and efficiently punished. Reaching into his pocket he carefully withdrew his packet of cigarettes, placed one between his parted lips, and pulled the tab. Then, trying to maintain his nerve, he glanced at the man who had, effectively, taken him prisoner. "So ... Mr. Gideon?"

    The man leaned forward and his face loomed out of the murk, stark and white. "Gideon Reece. I work for the Roman."
    So that was what this was all about. The Roman. Donovan almost gave a sigh of relief. At least he had some idea of what he was dealing with. He took the cigarette from his lips and allowed a riffle of smoke to flood from his nostrils. "The Roman, eh? So tell me, is he an affable sort of boss?"
    A smile curled at the edges of Gideon Reece's lips, and he turned his head as if listening for something that wasn't there. For the first time since