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designed, he figured it had a window view of the alley behind the Bent Rose.
One of Gehrig's men was on the bed, naked except for a shoulder holster and a knife
sheath down the back of his neck, bucking away between the bent knees of one of the
gaudy sluts. The guy twisted as the door flew open, hardly breaking the rhythm he'd
established. When he saw Ryan with the packs in his hand, he went for the pistol in his
shoulder holster in a flash of reflex.
"Gehrig!" the man shouted as he brought the blaster around to point at Ryan. "Gehrig!"
Without breaking stride, Ryan pointed the Steyr with one hand, aiming by instinct at the
center of the man's chest. A bullet whipped by the one-eyed man's face as he squeezed
the trigger. The rifle report was loud inside the room.
The round caught the man in the chest and knocked him away from the woman,
sprawling his corpse halfway off the bed and onto the floor. The gaudy slut started to
scream, covering her face with her arms but still gaping at Ryan.
"Rough business," Ryan said in a cold voice. "Men come and go all the time. Should be
used to it." He motioned with the rifle. "Now stop screaming and get the hell out of that
bed."
The woman ceased the noise immediately and crawled off the bed while Ryan shoved it
against the wall and cleared the space in front of the window.
Peering down into the alley, Ryan saw J.B. gentling the horses and bringing them to a
halt. He opened the window, ignoring the creak as it went up the runners reluctantly.
The Armorer turned, leveling the Uzi before him. "Ryan," he acknowledged.
"J.B.," Ryan responded. "Looking for a big send-off? Could have used a little less
fanfare."
"No help for it," the Armorer replied. "The troops Burroughs sent for us damn near closed
the distance."
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"In the ville?"
J.B. nodded. "Already targeting the Bent Rose. Figured stirring the pot some might slow
them down."
Ryan tossed the equipment packs onto the eaves overhanging the alley. They slid over the
split shingles and dropped onto the ground. He kept his eyes on the gaudy slut. She'd
been a little braver than he'd counted on, hunkering down still naked and going through
the dead man's pants. She gave him an uneasy smile over her shoulder. The woman
definitely had a cheeky turn to her.
J.B. slid out of the saddle and gathered the equipment packs.
"I'm sending Krysty and the boy to you," Ryan said. "Get them out of here. Head for the
gate. I'll be along as soon as I can. Got to take care of the wags, otherwise they're going to
be on top of us before we get a mile gone."
J.B. nodded. "Doc and Jak?" he asked.
Ryan shook his head. "Not yet. We can't wait here."
After finishing her looting, the gaudy slut scampered out of the room, not bothering to
grab her clothes.
"You make it?" Ryan asked the boy.
Tarragon gave him a tight nod. "One way or another," he said as he stared down the short,
slanted length of the eaves. "It's got to be better than the prospect of staying here."
Ryan helped him through the window, grabbing hold of the boy's shirt for just a moment
as he wavered unsteadily. When the boy had his feet under him, Ryan let go.
"May Ivory Ginnifer smile warmly on you," the boy said, "and not reap you tonight."
"Thanks," Ryan said, not really knowing what the hell the boy was talking about but
understanding the general gist of the words. "You keep your head low."
Krysty followed him, tossing the equipment packs through first. They slid over the edge,
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only inches from the Celt.
"Staying behind, lover?" she asked.
"Only long enough to buy us some time." Ryan let his hand drift down to check the small
belt pack of plas ex he'd kept.
"You get back with us soon as you can," Krysty said. She took his face roughly between
her hands and kissed him hard on the lips. Then she was out on the eaves, a lithe shadow.
Ryan hurried out of the room, hearing the gaudy slut screaming for attention below.
"My God! Somebody come quick!" the gaudy slut said. "That fucker's already killed
Wieringo!"
Ryan eased out of the room, heading back to the room they'd been given. Men were
already rushing up the stairs in answer to the woman's announcement. They aimed at him
and fired on the run. Bullets crashed into the walls of the hallway as Ryan streaked
through, tearing leaden fingers through his clothing.
"He killed Wieringo!" the gaudy slut continued. "And robbed him, too!"
Inside the room Ryan set himself alongside the door for just an instant, then whirled
around, bringing the Steyr to his shoulder. He squeezed off several rounds, riding the
recoil and keeping the rifle centered on the men surging forward.
The 7.62 mm bullets drilled into the lead man and knocked him back, breaking the
momentum of the crowd of raiders around him.
Ryan took better aim, then cracked the skulls of two more pursuers, already in motion
before the dead men dropped to the middle of the hallway. One of them broke through the
railing overhanging the stage area below and went crashing down, ripping the chandelier
of candles from the ceiling.
Reaching the window and knowing he had no time to waste, Ryan threw himself through
it. Glass broke around him, falling over his shoulders and back. He landed on the eaves
with a thud that drove most of the breath from his lungs.
He rolled toward the edge and dropped over a heartbeat ahead of the bullets that shattered
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the edge of the eaves.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jak drew his .357 Magnum pistol and dropped into the shadows of the building down
from the Bent Rose, warned by the sharp reports of gunfire.
"Who is it, lad?" Doc asked.
"Not know," the albino called back. Doc was at his back, the Le Mat blaster in a hard- [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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