Clive Cussler's the Devil's Sea by Dirk Cussler

Clive Cussler's the Devil's Sea by Dirk Cussler

Author:Dirk Cussler [Cussler, Dirk]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-11-16T00:00:00+00:00


Listen here.” Greer stepped from behind the bar. “You can’t—”

His words were truncated by the bark of the pistol. The bullet struck Greer high in the shoulder, sprouting a red stain on his shirt. Talai screamed.

“On the floor,” the gunman countered.

Summer slowly reached for a bar towel while maintaining eye contact with the gunman. She pressed it against Greer’s shoulder and helped him to the floor as Talai and Dirk dropped down beside them.

“The money’s in the register,” Greer said. “Take it and leave us be.”

“Shut up.” The intruder trained his gun on Dirk, viewing him as the highest threat, then stepped to the bar. He went right for the open case, pulled the wrappings off the carvings and inspected each one. Replacing them, he backed away from the bar and considered the captives on the floor. He waved his gun at Summer. “You . . . stand up.”

Dirk started to move, but the gunman was quick to level the pistol at his head. “Stay where you are.”

Summer slowly got to her feet, and the gunman transferred his aim to her. “Close the case on the bar and pick it up.”

Summer followed his instructions, closing and locking the case, then picked it up.

The gunman spoke to the trio on the floor. “You will stay here and do nothing. If you try to follow us, I will kill her. If you call the police, I will kill her.”

Dirk glanced at his sister. He was several steps from the gunman, but might be able to leap at the man’s knees. He knew Summer would assist in the attack. But her eyes warned him off. The sight of the bleeding proprietor told her the attempt was not worth the risk. The gunman was simply too dangerous.

Dirk lay still and watched with futility as Summer was marched to the front door. At the gunman’s urging, she reached up with her free hand and unlocked the dead bolt, then grabbed the handle.

The door suddenly flew open, and she jumped back as another man entered the club. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a brawny but pleasant face. He smiled at Summer, began to apologize—and was struck in the head from behind.

Summer gasped as he crumpled to the ground at her feet, and yet another man appeared in the doorway. He lowered the stock of the Chinese-made assault rifle he’d used to strike the Tibetan and glared at Summer. He spoke a few words to the first gunman, then slipped his weapon beneath his coat and disappeared outside.

Summer bent down to see if the Tibetan was okay, but felt a pistol poke in her spine. “Go.”

She stepped over the prone man, out into the daylight.

A small white sedan idled nearby, the second gunman behind its right-side steering wheel. Summer was escorted to the rear door and climbed in, putting the artifacts case between her feet. The short gunman slid next to her and aimed the pistol across his lap at her. The driver hit the gas, and the car lurched down the road.


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