The Avenger 33 - The Blood Countess by Kenneth Robeson Read Free Book Online Page A

Mac’s is really something.”
    There were still two more men in the blue sedan. One hopped out to see what had befallen his comrade. There was still enough of the special gas lingering in the air to make him woozy. He began staggering, then toppled over on the body of his associate.
    The third man was at the wheel. He ground the car’s gears into reverse.
    Before he could back more than a few feet, Smitty had sent three slugs into his rear tire.
    It went pow!
    The sedan clumped and bumped, traveling in a zigzag course.
    Smitty charged the car.
    Cole, observing, was reminded of a rhino charging an elephant.
    The giant caught hold of the driver’s door, jerked it open, and pulled the man out.
    The car petered out like a dying balloon, smacked into the luggage truck, and conked off.
    “What’s the big idea, huh?” Smitty asked the driver, who was dangling in his grip. “Was you trying to kill somebody?”
    “We meant to kill you, senhor,” snarled the driver. “I may get my chance yet.”
    “Naw, your killing days are over.” Smitty gave him a poke on the chin which knocked him unconscious.
    Cole had meanwhile run to the embassy car. “Any of you chaps get potted?”
    A heavyset young man struggled out of the black car. “No, we’re all in fair shape, except for poor Collins. He’s still out from the bump he took when we crashed.”
    “I’ll take a look at the lad,” offered MacMurdie, who had joined them.
    While Mac slipped into the front seat, a gray-haired man emerged from the rear seat. “You’d be Cole Wilson, wouldn’t you?” he asked, extending his hand. “I’m Ralph Estling, with the embassy here.”
    “Yes, I’m the inimitable Cole Wilson. My car-eating friend is Smitty, and the ministering angel is Fergus MacMurdie himself.”
    “I’m James Perry Willis,” said the heavyset young man. “We really appreciate your lending a hand.”
    “All in a day’s work,” said Cole. “Any idea who those slumbering louts are?”
    Estling shook his head. “I imagine they were hired for the occasion,” he said. “We’d noticed they were following us, and when poor Collins slowed so we could get a better look, they broke out the heavy artillery. You saw the rest.”
    “We feel a little silly,” said Willis, “since we came to look after you.”
    “Think nothing of it,” said Cole, with a grin, “you can shoot the tires out of someone’s car for us sometime.”
    “This lad is nae seriously hurt,” announced Mac from within the embassy car. “He’ll be coming around shortly.”
    “This guy says he don’t know from nothing.” Smitty had carried the still dangling driver of the blue sedan over.
    “I know one thing, senhor,” said the man. “None of you will leave this country alive.”

CHAPTER XIV

“I Can Tell You What Happened!”
    Whistling, hands in his pockets, wearing a white Palm Beach suit, Cole Wilson came strolling into the lobby of the inn. The midday sunlight streamed in through the windows, catching motes of dust and making them sparkle, brightening the floral pattern of the floor tiles, illuminating the one bare foot that showed on the registration counter.
    “Bom dia,” Cole said to the foot.
    The foot dropped below the counter, like a Punch and Judy puppet, and was replaced by the head of the curly-haired clerk. “Good morning, senhor,” he said. “You are obviously a well-to-do American tourist. For you I will make available our best suite, in which you will enjoy the best of everything.”
    “You’re very perceptive, old fellow,” said Cole. “I am indeed a well-to-do American. However, what I wish of you this morning is not lodging, but information.”
    “Ah, that is too bad, senhor, because the suite I had in mind for you has a bathroom made entirely of—”
    “I’m sure it does,” said Cole. “I want to talk to you about Richard Benson, who seems to have rather abruptly ended his stay here.”
    “Ah, senhor, that is what everyone wishes to talk to