The Terrorizers by Donald Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page A

other front seat, drew a deep breath, as if happy to be relieved of responsibility. She unbuttoned her long, pink coat. Throwing it wide open for air, she let herself slump down in the seat in an exhausted way, as if she’d run a hard mile on a hot day. For her, I gathered, betrayal was hard work.
    “Were you followed from the airport, Miss?” the man beside me asked.
    “I… I don’t know for sure. I didn’t want to keep looking around.”
    He said, “It’s practically a dead cert you were, but I think you lost them at the hotel. We’ll check. Incidentally, I’m Dugan and that’s Lewis. Miss Davidson, isn’t it? And this is Mr. Madden, is it, returned from the dead? We want to hear all about that, don’t we, Miss Davidson?”
    Kitty licked her lips and didn’t look at me. “I don’t… I wasn’t told why… I was promised he wouldn’t be hurt.”
    “Oh, we wouldn’t dream of it, Miss,” Dugan said. “Gentle as lambs we are. Never lay a finger on him, not a finger.”
    Kitty stared straight ahead through the windshield. After a little, she organized the bunched pink slacks more becomingly about her legs, and then drew her coat close about her once more as if suddenly chilled. It was another long ride, at least as long as that from the airport. The driver, Lewis, did some early twisting and turning that increased the mileage considerably; but at last, apparently satisfied that there was nobody behind us, he took us out onto a freeway and started making reasonable time. I didn’t like the fact that I’d been given the names, and that I wasn’t blindfolded. It seemed to indicate that they didn’t care what I told, later, which didn’t seem likely; or that they didn’t figure I’d be in any condition to tell, later. I wondered if I’d made a serious miscalculation when I passed up the chance to escape.
    Presently we left the freeway. We were out in the British Columbia countryside now, driving past soggy fields and woodlots drained by deep ditches and creeks running with brown water. The clouds had pulled together once more; the brief moment of sunshine was only a shining memory. The driver turned the Mercedes into a lane that led back between two fenced fields—high, barbed-wire-topped, chain-link fences, I noted—to some white buildings among the trees. We passed a small, neat sign: INANOOK SANITARIUM.
    I wondered idly if that was a genuine aborigine name or if somebody was being cutiepie and hinting that this sprawling place was a cozy nook. Except for the institutional white paint, it looked like one of the resort hotels where the guests inhabit expensive individual cottages and bungalows scattered widely around the main building—except that these bungalows, I saw, had bars on the windows. The headquarters structure was impressively large and two stories high. In front of the door, three people awaited us, two men and a woman, all in similar starched white coats. The legs were dressed differently, however. One of the men wore dark trousers. The woman had on practical dull nylons and sturdy brown shoes. The second man wore white, starched pants to match his jacket. He was young and blond, with a face that could have been called handsome in its dull and fleshy way. He had big shoulders and muscular hands. He stepped forward as we approached.
    “Be nice now,” said the man beside me, Dugan. “See, you’re getting the VINP treatment. Very Important New Patient. Show your appreciation by not giving us any trouble…” The car stopped. He opened the door. “Watch him, Tommy,” he said to the big, blond young man. “He’s being too good. Don’t trust him. All right, Madden, out.”
    I got out. The two men placed themselves strategically on either side of me. It was clear that, from long practice, they had it all worked out how they’d grab me if grabbing was required; but for the moment they let me stand there untouched. We waited for the man in the dark pants and the woman in the thick