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Authors: Brian Garfield

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Radford levels the Uzi; Curly ducks down behind the island counter … Gootch, facing the muzzle of Radford's Uzzi, backs out into the hallway … Radford pulls the fridge door open and uses it for armor-plate while Curly shoots at him from behind the counter. Radford returns the fire. Bullets chatter and scream.

In the dining room Gootch comes windmilling back. Larry and Conrad run forward to join him. Vickers comes in from a hall door, seeing it all, understanding it instantly. Gootch yells desperately, “He's a banana truck!” while in the kitchen Curly, on his knees, dodges around the end of the island counter, looking for a shot—and suddenly Radford comes vaulting over the counter, kicks the submachine gun out of Curly's hand and slams Curly upside the head with the free-swinging end of his nutcracker. It lays Curly out cold.

… Gootch returns into the kitchen, followed by Conrad and Larry; and now suddenly Radford from behind the door is all over them—uses his nutcracker as a flail, holding one stick and swirling the other, bashing Gootch and Larry, not wanting to use the submachine gun that's in his other hand; but Conrad is very fast—deflects the nutcracker by parrying with his gun, then (as Radford lifts the Uzi, ready to use it) wheels back outside with Gootch and Larry.

From the dining room side, Conrad slams the door. Immediately he and Larry and Gootch start firing bursts through the closed door. In no time at all their bullets splinter it, turning it into kindling.

Radford crouches behind the counter. Bullets come in through the closed door, busting the kitchen all to hell. Curly, dazed on the kitchen floor, groans and stirs; bullets are busting him all to pieces. The bullets also tear up Moe's body.

Vickers yanks open a window—shouts outside: “Wojack—get your ass in here.”

Outside Vickers' house several police cars arrive fast. Wojack, seeing them, dodges away from the tree with his 308 rifle and hurries into the house.

As Clay, Dickinson and cops spill out of the cars, they hear a brutal racket of automatic fire from inside the house. Dickinson says, “The hell?”

Vickers, having seen the approaching cops, shouts at the three guys but Gootch and Larry are still blazing away through the shattered door and Conrad is reloading and they don't hear him. Behind them, Vickers slips quickly out of the room.

Gootch and Larry stop to refill their weapons. That's when—in the abrupt silence—Conrad glimpses Radford—a faint movement beyond the barrier of the island counter—and Conrad opens fire viciously and—the bullets bust up the gas range.

The range explodes—and the fire rapidly begins to spread.

Radford, trapped behind cover against the counter, looks up and around, seeking a way out.

Wojack comes into the den through the busted French doors and stops to consider his options.

Through a kitchen window Radford comes hurtling out of the fire, falls to the ground, lands rolling, picks himself up, runs for cover. He's still got the nutcracker but not the Uzi.

Behind him, inside the kitchen, Conrad kicks down what's left of the door and bursts in, crouching, spraying bullets in an arc. The place is on fire. Gootch and Larry are right behind him. And they see there's nobody here except the bodies of Curly and Moe. Conrad wheels to the busted-out window—and sees several cops running toward the house, led by Denise Clay.

Behind Commander Clay runs Don the waiter—now wearing a police uniform—lifting his revolver to aim at Clay's back …

Dickinson, behind them both, sees what Don's doing. In a flash—from the hip—he shoots. Don is hit; falls … Dickinson and a cop, running past, slow briefly to make sure Don is no longer a danger. Don is dead. They run on.

From inside the den, aiming out through the broken-open French doors, Wojack coolly draws a bead on the approaching Clay.

Clay sees the rifle aimed at her—hasn't got a prayer …

Suddenly in a single startling motion Radford looms up through the French doors and slams Wojack to one side with the nutcracker.

Wojack falls back; the rifle shoots harmlessly into the air. Wojack works the bolt to load a new shell into the chamber but Radford kicks the rifle out of his hands … Slams Wojack again with the nutcracker. It dazes Wojack; he falls back against the wall.

Radford growls, “They're gonna want you alive.”

And then he wheels to run into the house, as Clay approaches the window, having seen it all. “Radford—wait!” But he's gone.

Dickinson rushes in ahead of her and picks up the discarded 308 rifle and claps handcuffs on Wojack.

Larry, Gootch and Conrad are backing away from the kitchen's rapidly spreading fire, into the dining room. Larry shouts, “Where's my brother?”

Conrad shoves him. “He bought it. Haul ass outa here.” He steers Larry quickly toward the exit—as Clay and Dickinson come slamming in. Conrad lifts his gun but Dickinson (with the 308 rifle) shoots first … Conrad goes down … Larry, moving like an automaton, lifts his automatic weapon and aims it at Clay—and Clay, regretting it, shoots Larry down … Dickinson shakes his head. “Jesus H. Christ.”

Radford spills out the front door, toting the nutcracker. He's searching for Vickers; he runs along the burning side of the house. Two cops hold the stunned Wojack, handcuffed, in custody … Radford wheels around a corner, to find himself face-to-face with Clay and Dickinson.

And just then, behind the two cops, appears Vickers.

He comes up alongside Clay, every inch the federal man. Running a colossal bluff. He trains his gun triumphantly on Radford. “All right, scumbag. War's over.”

But Denise Clay pushes Vickers' gun aside. “Not him. You. Damon Vickers, you are under arrest …”

And suddenly the muzzle of Vickers' gun is lodged against Clay's throat and he's making her drop her gun and he's dragging her away, using her as a shield …

They freeze: Radford, Dickinson and the other cops—as Vickers backs away with his hostage … The house burns high …

Vickers drags Clay into the nearest car and turns the key in its ignition, all the while holding his revolver hard against Clay's throat.

Dickinson lifts his gun. He's going to open fire

Radford says, “Nobody shoots that good. What if you miss?”

Dickinson lowers the gun. Cops hold their fire; they watch helpless frustration as the car begins to back away.

Radford speaks very calmly—icy. “But he'll kill her anyway! Only chance to save her is now.” And he plucks the 308 rifle from Dickinson's grasp and in the same smooth synchronous motion drops to one knee and takes careful aim at the retreating car while it swirls backward, turning nose-out, ready for getaway. Dickinson thinks about making a move, decides against it, doesn't know what the hell to do, and Radford, silhouetted against the flames of the burning house, steadies his aim. Like a rock.

The car slithers for purchase. It's a very tricky moving target.

In the car Vickers removes the revolver from Clay's neck long enough to whip the shift lever from reverse to drive, and that is when Radford squeezes off his shot—quick but steady and careful.

It hits square on the skull. Vickers' head snaps to one side; he is instantly unconscious.

Clay grabs the revolver out of Vickers' limp hand, and switches off the car's ignition.

The car stops. Clay closes her eyes and breathes in, very deep, and out, all the way.

Dickinson follows Radford to the car, as Clay gets out and comes around—and looks Radford in the eye. Radford looks right back. In back of them the house burns.

Vickers is flopped back limp against the headrest, his head lolling, bleeding from the head wound. Clay opens the door and picks up Vickers' wrist, feeling for a pulse.

Dickinson gently takes the 308 and the nutcracker from Radford. Radford doesn't resist.

A couple of cops bring Wojack along, handcuffed.

Clay says, in surprise, about Vickers, “He's alive.”

Radford says, “Yeah. I want to hear him explain all this.”

Wojack murmurs, “And a fascinating tale it'll be.”

Dickinson yaps at a cop: “Call paramedics.”

Wojack looks up at Clay. “Tell you what. I'll swap you the whole story for immunity from prosecution. What do you say?”

Radford and Clay meet each other's gaze—now slowly they both begin to smile. She takes his hand in both of hers. A warm bond.

Vickers' house colors the sky red with its leaping flames …

Dr. Trong parks his Jeep in that same spot across the street from the big lawn leading up to the Senator's house—gardens, tranquility, solid establishment, wealth.

In the passenger seat Radford looks neat and refreshed in a new suit. The two men exchange glances. Dr. Trong nods, indicating the house.

Radford hesitates, then gets out of the Jeep and, with visible misgivings, walks toward the house, then looks back.

Dr. Trong just watches him.

Radford turns to face the door, and rings the bell.

It opens. Dr. Trong sees Dorothy there. At first she's shocked. Then with a wonderful smile of disbelieving happiness she invites him in. He goes inside, and the door closes.

Dr. Trong smiles, and drives away.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Hit, copyright © 1970 by Brian Garfield.

The Marksman, copyright © 2000 by Brian Garfield.

This edition published in 2012 by
MysteriousPress.com
/Open Road Integrated Media
180 Varick Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com

EBOOKS BY BRIAN GARFIELD

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BOOK: Hit and The Marksman
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