Secret Ministry: A Johnny Fedora Espionage Spy Thriller Assignment Book 1 by Desmond Cory

Author:Desmond Cory [Cory, Desmond]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2011-03-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

MALINSKY

JOHNNY came to with a choking feeling at his throat and a strange sensation of movement. The carpet appeared out of a red mist two feet beneath his face and his knees seemed to be bumping against it. Though it seemed to him that realization came slowly, within two seconds he knew that he was being dragged over the floor by his coat-collar. He felt like hell. He heard a door click shut close to his heels, and felt himself lowered to the floor – surprisingly gently.

He could feel between his chest and the floor the hard, friendly edge of his shoulder-holster. He lay still, waiting for the hard, angry thumping at the back of his head to stop. It wouldn't.

He increased the pressure of his forearm on the floor slightly, tensed his muscles, and with one quick push rolled himself over on to his left elbow. As his hand left the floor it whipped beneath his lapel and flicked out his pistol.

For a split second his eyes refused to focus on the figure standing near him with one hand on the door handle; then they suddenly responded and he saw it was Thaxter, Thaxter looking very surprised before grinning. Johnny sat up, put the Mauser back with an impatient jab of his hand and began to caress his skull very, very gently.

“Cor blind old Riley,” said Thaxter, inelegantly. “Gave me a turn, you did. What the ’ell happened to you?”

Johnny used one or two of the choicer epithets in his vocabulary and said, “Someone soaked me back in the lobby. Where the hell’s this?”

Thaxter looked round. “Mr ruddy Malinsky’s room, I bet. I dragged you in ’ere out of the way. That door leads into the lobby.”

Johnny remembered the door on the right of the lobby, and nodded.

“Malinsky put one over on you?” said Thaxter anxiously. “Looks like ’e landed you a good one.”

“Wasn’t Malinsky. I was beltin’ hell outa the guy an’ some boy with sportin’ instincts came in on his side. How long’ve I been out?”

“About a minute, mate. ’Eard an ’ole lot of bumps, an’ then nothin’ at all; so I eased on in and saw you lyin’ there flakers,” said Thaxter. “Took one look in ’ere an’ pulled you in. Malinsky and the other bloke must have scarpered out of the window; wide open, it was.”

“Must have come in that way, too,” said Johnny. “Mighty light on his feet, whoever it was.” He rose to his feet; the room see-sawed slightly and then steadied down. He walked with the faintest suggestion of a stagger over to the door, opened it, and stepped into the lobby.

It was still empty, and, as Thaxter had said, the window was open. The linoleum floor showed the tracks made by his toes when he had been dragged across it. Johnny walked over to the wash-basins and surveyed his face in one of the mirrors. Thaxter followed close behind.

“Looks as if he got in a couple of kicks at me before he left,” said Johnny dolefully.

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