Spartan Gold by Clive Cussler Read Free Book Online

over in a mud puddle.
    “Get up!”
    “I can’t!”
    “I said, get up!”
    Sam signaled for Remi to wait as he crept ahead, pressed himself against the wall of the boiler, then slid ahead until he could see around the curve.
    There, in a space between a pair of pickup truck-sized boilers, was Ted Frobisher. He was on his knees, arms bound behind his back. His assailant stood a few feet in front of him, a flashlight in his left hand, a revolver in his right. He was pointing the gun at Ted’s chest.
    “Tell me where you found it and I’ll take you home,” the man said. “You can forget all about this.”
    There’s a lie if ever I’ve heard one, Sam thought. Whoever this man was he hadn’t brought Ted all the way out here only to take him back home and tuck him safely into bed. So sorry about all this, have a nice night. . . . Whether or not the man got what he’d wanted, Ted’s fate was sealed unless they acted quickly.
    Sam thought for a few seconds and formulated a rudimentary plan. He would have preferred a more elegant solution, but they had neither the time nor the resources for that. Besides, simple was often the most elegant. He slid back along the boiler and returned to where Remi was waiting.
    He sketched out the scene he had witnessed, then his plan.
    “Sounds like you’re getting the most dangerous part,” Remi said.
    “I have absolute confidence in your aim.”
    “And my timing.”
    “That, too. I’ll be right back.”
    Sam disappeared into the trees for half a minute, then returned and handed her a rock about the size of a grapefruit.
    “Think you can climb that one-handed?” he asked, nodding at the rusty maintenance ladder rising up the side of the nearest boiler.
    “If you hear a big thump in the dark you’ll have your answer.” She leaned forward, curled her fist around his shirtfront, and drew him in for a quick kiss. “Listen, Fargo: Try to look harmless and for God’s sake be careful. If you get killed I’ll never forgive you.”
    “That makes two of us.”
    Sam hefted his piece of rebar and took off at a half sprint, heading back the way he came, then veered right and began circling around. He stopped to check his watch. Six minutes had passed since his OnStar call. He couldn’t wait any longer.
    He tucked the rebar into the waistband at his back, then took a calming breath and started walking until he came around a boiler and the pool of light from the flashlight appeared in the darkness. Sam stopped and called out.
    “Hey, there, howdy, is everything okay?”
    The stranger whipped around, shining his flashlight in Sam’s eyes. “Who are you?”
    “I was just driving by,” Sam said. “I saw the car. Thought maybe somebody broke down. Hey, how about not shining that in my eyes?”
    In the distance came the faint sound of sirens.
    Gun raised, the man spun back to Ted, then back to Sam.
    “Whoa, fella, what’s the gun for?”
    Sam raised his hands and took a careful step forward.
    “Don’t move! Stay right there!”
    “Hey, I’m just trying to help.” Breath held, Sam took another step forward, closing the gap to fifteen feet.
    Be ready, Remi. . . .
    He raised his voice to make sure he could be heard over the rain and said, “If you want me to leave, no problem. . . .”
    Remi took her cue, and to his right Sam saw a shadow arcing out of the dark sky from atop the boiler. The stone seemed to hang for an impossibly long time, then landed with a sickening crunch on the man’s right foot. Remi’s aim was dead-on. Though a head shot would have made things much easier, it would have also likely killed the man, a complication they didn’t need.
    Even as the man groaned and stumbled backward, Sam was moving, drawing the rebar from his waistband with his left hand as he charged ahead. Arms windmilling, the man was trying to regain his balance and had almost succeeded when Sam’s perfectly timed uppercut caught him squarely in the chin. The gun and flashlight flew up and