The Iron Rain by Donald Malcolm

Author:Donald Malcolm [Malcolm, Donald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0373720297
Publisher: Laser Books (Harlequin Enterprises)
Published: 1976-05-03T14:31:16+00:00

CHAPTER 8

The snout of a shotgun nosed into the study, like a pilot fish preceding a shark. The glint of cold metal dominated the room.

Margery stepped forward to join us, but Lee stopped her. “You. Stay where you are.” The shotgun was leveled alongside her right hip.

“What do you want, Lee?” Westlake asked, and at the calmness in his tone, everyone seemed to relax a little; one or two of us, including Westlake, moved a bit. He stepped away from the desk.

” ‘What do you want, Lee?’ ” the intruder mimicked savagely, hitting Margery’s hip with the shotgun. “Mr. Lee, to you, Westlake. Let me hear you say it.”

“Certainly. Mr. Lee.” The sarcasm was as jagged as the edge of a broken bottle.

Before Lee could retort, someone else came into the light and elevated the dialogue out of the B-film class.

“Lee.” The one word silenced him. Susan had been right. One of the intruders was a woman. I strained my eyes to try and see her clearly, but the many diffused shadows in the study made that impossible.

“It’s simple, Mr. Westlake. We want food and shelter. And we’ll take it, if we have to.” Her voice was pleasant, with an exciting husky flavor, but the implied threat was feral.

“I hardly think that will be necessary. You’re welcome to stay and share what we have. But it won’t last for long.”

“Kind of you, Mr. Westlake. We wouldn’t have been welcome without the shotgun, would we? Hypocrisy doesn’t suit you.”

“And cynicism doesn’t suit you. However, we can’t stand here all night, exchanging insults. If you want to join us, forget about guns and threats and be prepared to work for the common good—”

“How much longer do we have to listen to him, Jackie?” Lee exploded, thrusting Margery aside. “We have all the guns. Let’s dump this lot outside and keep all the food to ourselves.”

It was careless, leaving both .22s in the kitchen, I thought gloomily. I supposed we were lucky that Lee wanted merely to throw us outside, instead of shooting us. I wondered if Jackie was his sister.

“I think not.” I sensed the imperceptible, but definite, change in Westlake’s tone.

“I wouldn’t push Lee too far, Mr. Westlake. All those loud bangs we’ve been having outside have made him very nervous. His finger might slip on the trigger.”

The silence was thick inside the room.

“I could shoot him before he has a chance to blink his eyes again.”

Jackie laughed. “With what? We have all the….”

Her voice tailed off as Westlake raised his right arm and extended it straight out. The revolver in his hand pointed at a spot directly between Lee’s eyes.

Where had the weapon come from? Then I remembered: Westlake had lifted McCaffrey’s revolver during the scuffle in the store.

“You wouldn’t use it.” The remark was suspended between a defiant statement and an uncertain question.

The gun didn’t waver.

“I would, to preserve my people. During my youth I did liaison work with the French Resistance at the end of the Second World War.

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