EDGE OF SUSPENSE: Thrilling Tales of Mystery & Murder Read Free Page A

me."
     
    # # #
     

 
    TARGETED
     
    "I've got your back, man," Javier Whitman
said into his cell phone while motoring down the busy freeway in a
BMW.
    "You'd damn well better have it!" the man
shouted back. "If I go down, we all go down. Understand?"
    "Yeah, I hear you." Javier tried to hide his
uneasiness at the mere prospect. "Don't worry. They don't have a
case. It's nothing but hot air. You ask me, the D.A.'s gonna drop
it any time now and we can all get back to business."
    "I don't think so," the man said. "They
won't stop till they nail my ass. Unless I beat them at their own
game."
    Javier tensed. "Meaning?"
    "Meaning I'm sure as hell not gonna sit back
and wait for them to throw the book at me!"
    Javier realized it was too late to stop the
wheels that were already in motion. "What did you have in
mind?"
    "Probably better if you don't know."
    Javier felt perspiration clinging to his
armpits as he took the exit to Lenwood Street. He wondered if his
cover had been blown. Impossible. He'd been extra careful as
always.
    That did little to ease his discomfort.
"Well, look, I've gotta take care of some business—our business—so
I'll be in touch."
    "Yeah, you do that," the man said
gruffly.
    "Later."
    Javier put the phone in his shirt pocket. He
was having second thoughts about being an informant. He was doing
his part to help get drug dealers off the streets in Portland. Or
at least one very big dealer. But was the price too high? If he
screwed up, he was a dead man. Just like his kid sister, who OD'd
on heroin last year.
    Javier convinced himself that everything
would be all right. Once the drug kingpin's head was chopped off,
his arms and legs would cease functioning too.
    That gave Javier hope he could get his life
back in order and try an honest and safer way to make a living.
    Javier pulled into the underground parking
garage. He was fifteen minutes late for his appointment, and they
didn't tolerate tardiness. But he couldn't help it if he'd had to
make a couple of runs for the boss this morning and then got stuck
in rush hour traffic. He nervously ran a hand through his hair,
sucked in a deep breath, and was about to get out of the car.
    That was when he noticed a shadowy figure
creeping swiftly toward his car.
    Instinctively Javier went for his .357
Magnum. He'd never used it, but never left home without it, keenly
aware of the dangers he faced in the drug business.
    * * *
    The assassin, dressed in black, stood
outside the mark's window aiming a gun directly at Javier's face.
Before Javier could get off a shot with his own weapon, the
assassin fired three rounds pointblank through the window,
shattering it. Each bullet landed in Javier's head, causing blood
and brain matter to explode everywhere.
    The assassin shot the snitch two more times
for good measure and one after that just for the hell of it.
    Reaching through what was left of the
window, the assassin grabbed the dead man's wallet.
    One down, one to go.
    * * *
    Lydia Muldaur fidgeted in her cold cell. At
least she was alone, which was about the only thing she had to
smile about. She hated the food, didn't dare drink the water, and
felt dirty. For now she was willing to be in jail, considering the
price for getting out.
    She had refused to reveal the name of her
source for the article she'd written for the Rose City Daily about
reputed drug kingpin Antonio Escobero. She had also signed with a
major publisher to write a book on Escobero and his illicit drug
empire in Portland.
    But then the man had gotten himself arrested
and charged with a host of crimes and Lydia was subpoenaed to
testify for the prosecution. Yes, Escobero was the worst kind of
scum and she would be happy if they put him away for the rest of
his miserable life. Only not as a result of her crossing that
principled line as a journalist and disclosing the name of the man
who was her pipeline to the inner workings of the city's drug
trade. Aside from endangering her source, Lydia would