[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
know how Tarzan feels, he thought.
Al-Rousasa, his Uzi half-drawn, noticed Joe just half a second before Joe
swooped in for a
142
perfect two-point landing, planting both feet squarely against the terrorist's
chest.
The submachine gun clattered to the floor as the Assassin rocketed backward,
arms wind milling. Joe let go of the cable. He landed hard, rolling and
skidding right to the door of the clothing store.
Joe jumped to his feet, rushing at Al-Rousasa. The terrorist was also rising,
pulling something loose from under the cuff of his trousers. A gun? No. Light
flashed on the six-
inch blade of a combat knife.
One thing was certain: Joe's jungle-man impersonation had attracted everyone's
attention-and concentrated it on him and Butler. Security people and cops were
converging from all over. Joe noticed Frank running toward him.
In a quick glance, AI-Rousasa took it all in, too. He vaulted over a bench,
kicking the occupant aside, and dove for his Uzi. No cops were near. He might
still have a chance to fire.
Joe dove, too, trying to intercept the terrorist. They crashed together,
slamming into the floor.
Al-Rousasa searched desperately for the gun. Joe went for the terrorist's
knife. He already knew where the Uzi was. It was underneath him. He could feel
the squat shape of the gun digging into his spine.
The Assassin put all his weight behind the knife, trying to shove it past
Joe's resisting arms and into his chest.
143
Then he realized where the gun must be. "Fool," he said breathlessly, grabbing
Joe by the collar and hauling him up. "Always you get in my way." Al-Rousasa's
eyes blazed, and his control of the language began to slip. His English had a
definite guttural accent, very different from Samuel Butler's careful speech.
Joe twisted around as he was pulled off the gun. He brought his foot up and
kicked hard, sending the Uzi skittering under the railing, almost over the
edge of the well.
His teeth showing in a silent snarl, Al-Rousasa hurled Joe against the
concrete bench.
The impact brought stars to Joe's eyes. He blinked them frantically and
cleared his vision just in time to see the terrorist kneeling over him,
raising his knife for the kill.
Joe was trapped against the concrete. Twisting free would only open up his
Page 59
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
back to the blade. He had just one chance--to catch Al-Rousasa's knife hand.
Joe threw up his left hand, grabbing.
And he missed.
A line of sheer agony opened in the palm of Joe's left hand as the knife edge
sliced through. Joe gritted his teeth against the pain. Al-Rousasa's eyes
gloated at the sight of the blood.
Joe kicked him in the knee.
The terrorist lurched, and the blade faltered. It missed Joe's throat, scoring
a line in the tile beside his right ear.
144
"Hold it!"
Joe heard the voice of a policeman behind him. Al-Rousasa hardly looked up. He
simply thrust his knife upward. Even as the policeman fell, the terrorist was
on his feet again, crouching low, reaching back for his gun. He turned to face
Joe Hardy head-on as Joe lurched to his knees. And that was perfect. Joe's
fist came up in a powerful roundhouse right, ramming straight into
Al-Rousasa's face.
The punch knocked the terrorist outward, his body jackknifing back. The safety
rail vibrated like a giant gong as the muzzle of the Uzi rammed into it.
Al-Rousasa lost his grip on the gun, and it spun out into empty space.
The terrorist made a wild grab for the weapon. Arms flailing, he toppled over,
following his gun into the central well.
Blood pounded in Joe's ears as he saw his enemy go flying. But Al-Rousasa had
the agility of a cat. He threw himself around in midair, snatching at one of
the posts supporting the safety rail. His fall slowed for one precious sec
ond-enough time to give him the chance to cling to the very edge of the floor.
He grabbed that chance.
Joe stood, glaring down at those white-knuckled hands and the dark eyes
burning with hatred. "You killed Iola, you scum," Joe whispered. "You don't
deserve to live."
His body shook with emotion, hands knotting
145
into fists. Blood flowed between the fingers on his slashed left hand,
splattering to the floor. His face was a mask of hatred-and Iola's killer was
at his mercy. A quick stomp on those hands, a kick into that despised face. .
.
Joe raised his foot, brought it back-and then spun away. "No," he said through
clenched teeth, "no. Then I'd be no better than you."
He bent over the rail, extending his right hand.
"Come on."
"You are a fool, Joe Hardy," said Al-Rousasa with a nasty grin. "I would never
show you mercy."
"I know. That's why I'd make a lousy Assassin. Even lousier than you." Joe
leaned out farther. "Reach up and take my wrist. I'll get you up."
Slowly, Al-Rousasa relaxed his death-grip and reached for Joe's right wrist.
He tightened his clutch as Joe grasped his wrist. Then Joe brought down his
left hand to get a double grip. He was bent over almost double, one leg
wrapped around a railing post.
Al-Rousasa struck like a viper. He pivoted on the hand that still gripped the
floor, tearing loose from Joe's hold. His free hand slapped Joe's left palm,
which was still bleeding. The pain from the slash returned in all its fury as
AI-Rousasa hung on, squeezing with all his might.
Excruciating pain pounded up Joe's arm, all the worse since it was unexpected.
He flinched,
Page 60
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
146
unlocking his leg from the post. The terrorist gave a wild laugh as he kicked
out, pulling both of them over the railing.
The crowd of spectators gasped as Frank Hardy fought his way through them.
Nobody bothered to help Joe. They all stared as if the fight at the railing
were taking place on TV.
Frank reached the railing just in time to see Joe topple over it.
"Out of my way!" Frank grabbed his brother's belt, then hurled himself [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl karpacz24.htw.pl
know how Tarzan feels, he thought.
Al-Rousasa, his Uzi half-drawn, noticed Joe just half a second before Joe
swooped in for a
142
perfect two-point landing, planting both feet squarely against the terrorist's
chest.
The submachine gun clattered to the floor as the Assassin rocketed backward,
arms wind milling. Joe let go of the cable. He landed hard, rolling and
skidding right to the door of the clothing store.
Joe jumped to his feet, rushing at Al-Rousasa. The terrorist was also rising,
pulling something loose from under the cuff of his trousers. A gun? No. Light
flashed on the six-
inch blade of a combat knife.
One thing was certain: Joe's jungle-man impersonation had attracted everyone's
attention-and concentrated it on him and Butler. Security people and cops were
converging from all over. Joe noticed Frank running toward him.
In a quick glance, AI-Rousasa took it all in, too. He vaulted over a bench,
kicking the occupant aside, and dove for his Uzi. No cops were near. He might
still have a chance to fire.
Joe dove, too, trying to intercept the terrorist. They crashed together,
slamming into the floor.
Al-Rousasa searched desperately for the gun. Joe went for the terrorist's
knife. He already knew where the Uzi was. It was underneath him. He could feel
the squat shape of the gun digging into his spine.
The Assassin put all his weight behind the knife, trying to shove it past
Joe's resisting arms and into his chest.
143
Then he realized where the gun must be. "Fool," he said breathlessly, grabbing
Joe by the collar and hauling him up. "Always you get in my way." Al-Rousasa's
eyes blazed, and his control of the language began to slip. His English had a
definite guttural accent, very different from Samuel Butler's careful speech.
Joe twisted around as he was pulled off the gun. He brought his foot up and
kicked hard, sending the Uzi skittering under the railing, almost over the
edge of the well.
His teeth showing in a silent snarl, Al-Rousasa hurled Joe against the
concrete bench.
The impact brought stars to Joe's eyes. He blinked them frantically and
cleared his vision just in time to see the terrorist kneeling over him,
raising his knife for the kill.
Joe was trapped against the concrete. Twisting free would only open up his
Page 59
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
back to the blade. He had just one chance--to catch Al-Rousasa's knife hand.
Joe threw up his left hand, grabbing.
And he missed.
A line of sheer agony opened in the palm of Joe's left hand as the knife edge
sliced through. Joe gritted his teeth against the pain. Al-Rousasa's eyes
gloated at the sight of the blood.
Joe kicked him in the knee.
The terrorist lurched, and the blade faltered. It missed Joe's throat, scoring
a line in the tile beside his right ear.
144
"Hold it!"
Joe heard the voice of a policeman behind him. Al-Rousasa hardly looked up. He
simply thrust his knife upward. Even as the policeman fell, the terrorist was
on his feet again, crouching low, reaching back for his gun. He turned to face
Joe Hardy head-on as Joe lurched to his knees. And that was perfect. Joe's
fist came up in a powerful roundhouse right, ramming straight into
Al-Rousasa's face.
The punch knocked the terrorist outward, his body jackknifing back. The safety
rail vibrated like a giant gong as the muzzle of the Uzi rammed into it.
Al-Rousasa lost his grip on the gun, and it spun out into empty space.
The terrorist made a wild grab for the weapon. Arms flailing, he toppled over,
following his gun into the central well.
Blood pounded in Joe's ears as he saw his enemy go flying. But Al-Rousasa had
the agility of a cat. He threw himself around in midair, snatching at one of
the posts supporting the safety rail. His fall slowed for one precious sec
ond-enough time to give him the chance to cling to the very edge of the floor.
He grabbed that chance.
Joe stood, glaring down at those white-knuckled hands and the dark eyes
burning with hatred. "You killed Iola, you scum," Joe whispered. "You don't
deserve to live."
His body shook with emotion, hands knotting
145
into fists. Blood flowed between the fingers on his slashed left hand,
splattering to the floor. His face was a mask of hatred-and Iola's killer was
at his mercy. A quick stomp on those hands, a kick into that despised face. .
.
Joe raised his foot, brought it back-and then spun away. "No," he said through
clenched teeth, "no. Then I'd be no better than you."
He bent over the rail, extending his right hand.
"Come on."
"You are a fool, Joe Hardy," said Al-Rousasa with a nasty grin. "I would never
show you mercy."
"I know. That's why I'd make a lousy Assassin. Even lousier than you." Joe
leaned out farther. "Reach up and take my wrist. I'll get you up."
Slowly, Al-Rousasa relaxed his death-grip and reached for Joe's right wrist.
He tightened his clutch as Joe grasped his wrist. Then Joe brought down his
left hand to get a double grip. He was bent over almost double, one leg
wrapped around a railing post.
Al-Rousasa struck like a viper. He pivoted on the hand that still gripped the
floor, tearing loose from Joe's hold. His free hand slapped Joe's left palm,
which was still bleeding. The pain from the slash returned in all its fury as
AI-Rousasa hung on, squeezing with all his might.
Excruciating pain pounded up Joe's arm, all the worse since it was unexpected.
He flinched,
Page 60
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
146
unlocking his leg from the post. The terrorist gave a wild laugh as he kicked
out, pulling both of them over the railing.
The crowd of spectators gasped as Frank Hardy fought his way through them.
Nobody bothered to help Joe. They all stared as if the fight at the railing
were taking place on TV.
Frank reached the railing just in time to see Joe topple over it.
"Out of my way!" Frank grabbed his brother's belt, then hurled himself [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]