The Beauty Kill by Marc Olden

Author:Marc Olden [Olden, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-6074-6
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2012-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

I LEFT DOREEN’S NAKED body and air-conditioned apartment for this, thought John Bolt. If I’m not crazy, I’m close to it.

He was in a dimly lit, hot, piss-smelling hallway, a dirt-covered light bulb throwing shadows down on him and Kramer. They were in front of Jeri Cleo’s apartment, located on the third floor of a rundown West Ninety-third Street apartment building. In the narrow hallway, the summer heat stayed trapped, and the two agents were damp with sweat.

In the yellow light their faces glistened with the hot, salty water from their own bodies. Bolt rubbed his forehead and face with his left hand, drying the hand against his left thigh, telling himself that if he took small, shallow breaths the piss smell wouldn’t bother him too much. What the hell was it about New Yorkers that made them turn apartment-house hallways into toilet bowls? he thought.

He crouched behind Kramer, who stood in front of the door. The black agent held his .38 behind his back with both hands. Your black face, brother man, Bolt had said. That’s going to get us inside. Talk bad, talk cool, but get us inside.

Bolt, left hand touching Kramer’s spine for balance, gripped his Colt .45 APC Commander in his right. No sense going through the door empty-handed. Take a friend. As far as Bolt was concerned, in the world of narcotics your best friend was that invention of Mr. Colt.

Kramer gnawed his lower lip nervously, breathing deeply, feeling cold tension in his stomach. Agents always felt that when they had to go through any door with people who might kill on the other side. No matter how many times you did it, it never got easy. Never.

Suddenly, from inside the apartment, they heard it. Broken glass, a table or a chair falling to the floor, and a man yelling, “Goddamn it, nigger, that ain’t no answer!”

Kramer turned around to Bolt, who looked up at him.

“Show and Tell,” whispered Bolt. “Cooper. They’re leaning on him. ’Bout that time. We want something left when we get in there.”

Kramer nodded. Then he whispered, “We don’t get crackin’ soon, the people ’round here get mean, maybe call the police.”

Bolt smiled. Nodding his head, he said softly, “Go.” His heart beat faster. Nearer. Nearer to Beauty and the clowns who tried to blow me away. What’s that saying? he asked himself. Oh, yeah: Revenge is a dish best served cold. Well, right now I’m hot, hot inside and out. So I’ll take my revenge anyway I can get it.

Kramer rang the buzzer.

A small, nothing sound, thought Bolt, but it’s the start of something that could get some of us killed in the next minute. His fingers brushed his gold badge pinned to his shirt. Maybe one day they’ll bury me with this thing, but God, don’t let it be tonight. Not tonight.

The rumble of voices stopped as suddenly as if the buzzer was a cue.

Kramer, street-smart and shrewd, went into his act. The black agent slurred his voice. “Hey, mama, git yo’ ass on over here.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.