Stop Angel! (A Frank Angel Western Book 8) by Frederick H. Christian Read Free Book Online

He’s
dead, then?’
    ‘ Alas,
yes. So very few men survive the, ah, rigors of the valley. But he
served his purpose. I knew that when he arrived, your coming was
but a matter of time. What is it, sixty days after departure you
assume death?’
    ‘ You
know a lot about the department.’
    ‘ Lorenz
told me a lot.’
    ‘ So you
knew I was coming?’
    ‘ Of
course. Your movements from the moment you arrived in Galveston
have been reported to me. You have been under observation every
inch of the way.’
    ‘ You
seem to have it all buttoned up,’ Angel said.
    ‘ Ah, do
not think you have an ace up your sleeve, my dear fellow. I’m
afraid your arrival through the mountains was also observed. I’ve
been watching your every move.’ He smiled at the look of chagrin on
his prisoner’s face, and bowed sardonically.
    ‘ Why did
you let me stay out so long? Why didn’t you send your boys out to
get me?’ Angel asked.
    ‘ What,
and spoil my pleasure?’ Nix said, throwing back his huge head and
laughing. ‘After I have gone to so much trouble to arrange
everything? No, no, my dear Angel. I wanted you to have every
advantage. I wanted you to know just exactly what you were up
against here in my valley. And I am sure, now, that you do know. So
you, as well as I, may relish what comes next.’
    ‘ Which
is?’
    ‘ Oh,
come, not now,’ Nix smiled. ‘This evening you will dine with me. I
want to spend some time with you. It may surprise you, Angel, but I
respect your abilities. I confess myself eager to discover just how
good you are. But that is tomorrow. Tonight … well, perhaps you are
like Scheherazade. Perhaps for you there will be no
tomorrow.’
    ‘ You’ll
have to excuse me,’ Angel said harshly. ‘I’m not really kitted out
for a dinner party.’ He gestured at his mud-smeared face and hands,
his soiled clothing, comparing it with the fine black broadcloth
suit of his captor.
    ‘ I’m
afraid I won’t take no for an answer,’ Nix said, showing his teeth.
‘We have plenty of time to take care of your needs.’ He clapped his
hands once, and then again. As if by magic the Oriental, Yat Sen,
appeared in the doorway. He bowed without speaking.
    ‘ Mr.
Angel’s bath is ready?’ Nix asked expansively. Yat Sen bowed again,
yes.
    ‘ Good.
Look after him, Yat Sen. We dine at nine, Angel.’
    He went out through the tall double
doors, and the Oriental looked at Angel expectantly.
    ‘ Please
no trouble,’ he said quietly. Like many of his race, he had
difficulty with the pronunciation of the r’s and l’s. ‘Trouble’
came out ‘tlubber.’ Angel nodded as Yat Sen stepped to one side,
and gestured, this way. He reckoned correctly that it would take
five steps to be beside the Oriental, and on the fifth step he was
moving very fast, his hands perfectly right, his body beautifully
set for the blow which he delivered sideways at Yat Sen’s carotid
artery. Nine hundred and ninety-nine men out of a thousand,
tenfold, would have been killed on the spot by the blurring hand.
Not one in a million could have done what Yat Sen then almost
casually did. He intercepted Angel’s hand. All Angel’s strength,
all his speed, and all his skill were behind the blow, yet the
Oriental caught it in midair the way a kid catches a bouncing ball,
and he held it totally immobile with the most astonishing strength
Angel had ever encountered.
    ‘ Please,’ Yat Sen said. ‘Take bath, no tlubber.’
    Angel looked at his own hand
held fast in the unbudging fist of the Oriental, and he let out his
breath in one long, astonished sigh. ‘Yat Sen,’ he said. ‘That was
impossible.’
    ‘ Not
impossibar,’ Yat Sen said, handing him a fragrant bar of toilet
soap. ‘Enjoy bath. I get crothes.’
    Angel shook his head silently as
the Oriental padded out of the bathroom. Then he quickly got out of
his dirty clothes and slid into the soft water. He was direly in
need of a bath, and soaped himself vigorously, getting rid of