| THE TIME OF THE
DESTROYERS
They called themselves Destroying Angels. Skye Fargo had clipped their wings
once. But now he had found three of them back to doing what they liked to do best:
butcher helpless strangers.
"Don't move," Fargo commanded. the three went rigid.
"Drop your guns and you won't be harmed."
"You expect us to believe you," one of them, Billy, said.
"I know your voice, mister. You're the one who stuck a knife into
me."
"And you're the one who put a bullet into me." a second one,
Thomas, threw in.
"I was hoping I'd run into you again, stranger," Billy
snarled, hate in his eyes.
Fargo tried one last time to avert bloodshed. "There's no need
for anyone to die. Just drop your guns and let me and my friends go our way in
peace. That's all we ask."
Thomas slowly shook his head. "You ask too much."
That made the choice simple. The only hard part was beating odds of
three to one.... |
KING OF DEATH Bruno Scaglia, an animal of a man
with the strength of ten, was the king of crime in San Francisco. Now his huge
fingers were around Skye Fargo's throat, squeezing.
Bucking like a mustang, Fargo fought to break loose. But he couldn't
get enough leverage. Bit by bit the life was being choked from his body. He
rained blows, but he might as well have been hitting solid granite.
Then Fargo's fingers closed on a smooth, slender object. he did not
need to look to know what it was. Raising it, he sheared the blade into Scaglia's
neck just under the jaw. The terror of the Barbary Coast shrieked like a mountain
lion and staggered away. Tottering toward the door, a red geyser streaming in his
wake.
The killer king was dead, Fargo thought with satisfaction, even as Scaglia's
men poured through the door. the trouble was, in a minute, the Trailsman would be,
too.... |
