The Destroyer 119 - Fade to Black by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 2010-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

The driver looked sheepish. "It's just that I've got this script I've been working on. If you could let someone know what I did today-"

The rest of what he said was lost. Remo fed the man into the crowd. The limo driver was carried along with the fleeing mob to the main gate.

Plucking up the two remaining terrorists, Remo jumped from the car. He was a salmon swimming upstream as he sprang to the roof of the limo, an extra tucked under each arm. He slid from the hood and met the crowd head-on, butting people from his path by twisting the men he carried right and left. The extras were bruised and bloodied by the time Remo ducked away from the thinning crowd into an adjacent avenue. Soundstages flanked the road.

A huge 5 was painted on one side of the nearest big building. Beneath the number sat the next Plotz truck.

Remo moved so quickly the next battered extra didn't even know what was happening until he felt himself sinking into fertilizer. Outside, Remo was sealing the door.

"Where's the next one?" he asked the final terrorist.

The man seemed dazed. Blood trickled from gashes in his chin and forehead.

"In the alley between the creative-office complex and the commissary building," he offered, wobbling uncertainly.

"And the last one?"

"Soundstage 9."

Remo had already gathered the man up and was running down the wide avenue when the extra added, "I think."

The crowds were virtually gone by then. Alone on the road, Remo was at a full sprint heading for the commissary. Whitewashed buildings flashed by. "You don't know?" he demanded.

"I didn't park it. I'm not sure."

Remo finally asked the question he dared not ask earlier. "How much time do we have?" he said, voice grave.

Even as Remo carried him along, the man looked at his watch. He was surprised at how easy it was to read the face. There was no bounce whatsoever to Remo's confident stride.

"Two minutes, ten seconds," the extra said, a freshly worried edge to his quavering voice. Thanks to his time spent at Taurus the previous year, Remo at least knew the basic layout of the studio. But now he had just over two minutes to eliminate the last two truck bombs on the lot. And no knowledge of the Taurus lot would help him if the last two trucks and the tons of explosive force within them weren't where they were supposed to be.

Face hard, Remo's feet barely brushed the ground as he flew headlong into the ticking maw of death.

Chapter 14

"How long do we have to keep circling?" Hank Bindle asked, peeved.

The Taurus cochair frowned as he looked out the car window. They were driving down the same strip of Santa Monica Boulevard for what seemed like the millionth time.

Bruce Marmelstein was sitting in the back of the limousine with his partner. He had been staring at the face of his Cartier off and on for the past half hour.

"Don't worry. Any minute now."

Bindle closed his eyes. He took a sip from the martini in his hand.

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