Justice, Inc. by Kenneth Robeson

Author:Kenneth Robeson [Robeson, Kenneth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Action & Adventure, Pulp Action
ISBN: 9780982203309
Published: 2009-02-28T08:00:00+00:00

"So you killed them both," said Smitty, back at the hotel. Benson had returned well before the mentioned hour . . . Smitty's eyes were wholly approving as he said the words,

"I didn't kill them," said Benson, face still and calm as a snow-whitened pond. "I merely left them unconscious, for the police to take for the wounding of that reporter. I creased them, if you know what that means."

Smitty nodded.

"When a bullet hits a man a glancing blow on the top of his head, instead of drilling the head itself, that man is knocked cold instead of being killed. He is 'creased.' I've heard of it, but always as a freak accident. I didn't know anyone was good enough with a gun to shoot that fine on purpose."

Benson shrugged a little.

"Any man who can hit a dime at fifty paces can do it. It's not too difficult."

"It sounds miraculous to me," said the giant. "But -- why didn't you kill them? They certainly deserved it."

Benson's ice-gray eyes narrowed.

"Ever kill a man, Smitty?"

"No,"

Well, I had to, once. In Tahiti. I swore I'd never kill again, if I could possibly avoid it. And to help avoid it, I practiced with Mike until I could hit that dime at that fifty paces."

Benson's eyes changed expression. His face could not change; it was a dead thing. So the gray flame of his pale, deadly eyes seemed to be gaining more expressiveness than eyes ordinarily have, in compensation.

He stared at Smitty.

"Any phone calls while I was gone?"

The giant shook his head. "Were you expecting any?"

"Expecting?" said Benson, tortured words slipping from lips that showed no torture. "No, Smitty. Hoping? Yes. I am still hoping that my wife and girl are alive. I am still hoping I'll get a demand for money in exchange for their lives. If I do -- well, I have several million dollars, and the crooks can have it all, if they give Alicia and Alice back to me. After that -- I'll wind them up or die trying! But first they can have all I've got if they'll return those two, alive."

"There was no phone call," said Smitty gently.

The door opened, and MacMurdie came in. The dour Scot was much excited about something.

"Reportin' from the airport," he said, with his Scotch burr more pronounced than ever. "There's things afoot, Muster Benson. New devilry."

The pale-gray eyes drilled into MacMurdie's frosty blue ones.

"The crowd that was on the plane with you that night have booked the same plane again tonight -- for Montreal," said Mac.

Benson's body was as still as his face. Smitty stared at the Scot and then whistled. MacMurdie said:

"Another trip with . . . something . . . bound for somewhere, I'm thinkin'. The plane with the trapdoor. Now what'll be dropped tonight?"

"A man," said Benson, voice as even and expressionless as his features. "That's what will he dropped. And I think the man will be Leon, your ex-employer, Smitty!"

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