"Daniels, Norman A - Paid To Die - Avenger 4003 backstory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Daniels Norman A)

His short hook jolted the bandit's head back, but didn't knock him out. O'Hara hastily
transferred his gun to his left hand, drew back his right and got set to knock this crook into
unconsciousness. There was a shot behind him! Something that felt like a ton weight slammed against
his skull. The store and the men in it began spinning crazily. O'Hara slumped forward!


The thug he'd knocked down and was now straddling gave a convulsive heave and threw O'Hara off.
The detective sergeant rolled over on the floor. His eyes were open, but they were glazed; his wits
numbed. Slowly some semblance of order fought back to his brain. He could see things now. Paul
Clayton, who owned the store, was on his feet, battling savagely to protect his property. His
fingers seized the bandages covering the face of one bandit and with a savage yank he pulled away
the protecting gauze. It came off in such a manner as to indicate that the gauze was really clamped
around the head instead of being wound around it.

There was a shot! Clayton stumbled forward, clawed at the edge of a counter and then slowly sank
to the floor. Two of the crooks were busy scooping up gems and tossing them into small sacks. From
the front of the store came a terse warning. Help was on its way.

The thug whose face was now revealed, had his back turned to O'Hara every moment. He seemed to
be in command of the others and he gestured angrily. One of the bandits stepped close to Clayton,
pointed his gun down and got set to pull the trigger and blast out of existence the one person who
had seen the features of the unmasked crook.

O'Hara summoned all his will power; all his shattered strength. He lifted his service pistol and
fired. The slug smashed through the killer's wrist. The gun fell to the floor and the man screamed
in pain. The thugs hesitated, torn between a desire to finish off the one man who might tell who
comprised the gang, and the detective who had almost broken up the game. But there was no time.
They'd be trapped unless they fled! One man fired a shot at O'Hara, but he was in a hurry and the
bullet only smacked into the floor.

O'Hara pulled himself to his feet and staggered toward the door. He saw now that he had made one
serious mistake in allowing the thug at the front of the store to remain conscious. He had slipped
out to the car and pushed aside the regular driver who slumbered peacefully under the effects of
O'Hara's gun butt. When the others raced out, the car was already in motion. A harness cop fired six
slugs after it, but they were ineffectual.

O'Hara rushed over to where Clayton lay. He found that the bullet had plowed through his
abdomen, but he wasn't dead. O'Hara howled for an ambulance and while he waited for it to arrive,
Inspector Grogan walked in.

"So they knocked off another one, sergeant," he grumbled. "And there's a murder connected with
this job too--possibly two murders."

"One of those mugs is carrying around a slug of mine," O'Hara said. "But I couldn't tackle five
of them and hope to win."

Two men in gray uniforms elbowed their way into the store. They were private guards of the Ames
Agency. Ames himself, slender, gray-haired and affecting ribboned nose glasses, followed on their
heels.