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

"So there is another loss," he snapped. "My men don't come on duty until these stores close,
therefore it is not our fault this happened. I believe, Inspector Grogan, that your men have failed
miserably. And the commissioner wants to put my organization out of business by accusing us of being
unfit to guard wealth. I'm laughing, inspector."

O'Hara looked around the store. There were no signs of Detective King. Where had the young
squirt gone?

Then an ambulance rolled up. O'Hara made his way to the side of the wounded man, watched the
examination and nodded in approval when the surgeon indicated that Clayton might live.

"I'm going to the hospital," he told Inspector Grogan. "Clayton took a look at the face of one
mug, and he may be able to identify it. Mostly though, I'm going to watch him just in case that mob
decides he ought to be silenced. If you find Detective King, send him to the hospital, will you?"


O'Hara had his gun in his hand as he escorted the stretcher to the ambulance and kept it exposed
during the wild ride. After Clayton had been rolled into an emergency operating room, O'Hara waited
outside the door.

"He'll live and probably regain consciousness within five or six hours," O'Hara was informed
"We'll take him to the left wing, top floor."

For three hours O'Hara occupied a chair beside the wounded man's bed. It was after midnight. The
nurse had gone for her authorized rest period and O'Hara was alone. Clayton mumbled something, but
it was unintelligible. Then there was a soft tap on the door. O'Hara grabbed the gun Iying on the
medicine table, thumbed back the trigger and stepped to the door.

"It's Hal King," the visitor said. "I've got important dope for you."

It did sound like King's voice. O'Hara unlocked the door. It was flung back with such force that
he found himself reeling into a corner. One man, his face swathed in the bandages affected by the
gang of killers, swept toward him. Before he could shoot, O'Hara felt a gun butt smash down on his
skull. He fell to his knees. Again the gun came down. Dimly O'Hara saw the killer step over to the
bed, raise a knife and bring it down. Clayton's difficult breathing ceased abruptly. The bandaged
killer glanced at O'Hara and then fled through the door.

O'Hara was on his feet half a minute later. He reeled into the corridor, yelled for a doctor and
then he had a glimpse of the killer heading toward the stairway.

O'Hara went after him, as fast as he could make his shaking legs travel. At the stairway he
paused. He glanced at the banister of the one flight leading to the roof. There was a smear of fresh
blood on it; blood that had spurted from Clayton's knife wound. The killer had taken refuge on the
sun roof.

O'Hara climbed the stairs warily, his gun ready for instant action. He poked his head around the
doorway on the roof, saw nothing and darted over to the protection of a thick chimney.

There was a shot and the bullet sent a shower of brick dust into his face. O'Hara crouched, saw
the man with the bandaged face a moment later and snapped a slug at him. He missed for the killer