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    The Suicide Squad - Murder Bund
    The Suicide Squad - Murder Bund
    The Suicide Squad - Murder Bund
    Ebook64 pages40 minutes

    The Suicide Squad - Murder Bund

    By Emile Tepperman

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    A KEEN October wind was cutting across the Drive from the Hudson when Stephen Klaw came out of the side street. He stopped in the lee of the corner apartment building, and lit a cigarette. He did not at once put out the match, but held it cupped in front of his face so that his clean-cut though rugged features were illuminated. Almost at once, a woman came darting from the shadows of the park across the street. She was dressed in a black rain coat, and wore no hat. Her dark hair streamed out behind her as she ran, in zig-zag fashion, as if wounded. And the great spreading stain of crimson upon the black background of the raincoat, just underneath the heart, testified to the wound. Under her right arm she was clutching a small black leather brief case, which seemed to be more precious to her than the life blood which was pouring from her body.
    Before she had taken half a dozen steps across the wide expanse of Riverside Drive toward Stephen Klaw, a man's voice rose in a triumphant shout, hoarse and vindictive: "There she is!"
    The man came tearing out from the park, a little farther down the block. At the same time, two other men broke from cover, at other points along the Drive. They had evidently been combing the park for her. All three of them converged upon her. They had peculiar weapons—the stocks resembled those of Thompson sub-machine guns, but the barrels were sawed-off so that they were only about six inches long.
    Stephen Klaw's lips pursed tightly when he saw those guns in the hands of the three men. He spat the cigarette from his lips, and thrust his hands down into his jacket pockets. They emerged almost at once, each gripping an automatic...
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEndymion Press
    Release dateSep 29, 2016
    ISBN9781531299125
    The Suicide Squad - Murder Bund

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      Book preview

      The Suicide Squad - Murder Bund - Emile Tepperman

      THE SUICIDE SQUAD - MURDER BUND

      ..................

      Emile Tepperman

      ENDYMION PRESS

      Thank you for reading. If you enjoy this book, please leave a review or connect with the author.

      All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

      Copyright © 2016 by Emile Tepperman

      Interior design by Pronoun

      Distribution by Pronoun

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      1. A WOMAN DIES

      2. CODE FOR KILLERS

      3. ALIASES CAN’T FOOL DEATH

      4. BROKEN PROMISE

      5. THE LAIR OF TREBIZOND

      1. A WOMAN DIES

      ..................

      A KEEN OCTOBER WIND WAS cutting across the Drive from the Hudson when Stephen Klaw came out of the side street. He stopped in the lee of the corner apartment building, and lit a cigarette. He did not at once put out the match, but held it cupped in front of his face so that his clean-cut though rugged features were illuminated.

      Almost at once, a woman came darting from the shadows of the park across the street. She was dressed in a black rain coat, and wore no hat. Her dark hair streamed out behind her as she ran, in zig-zag fashion, as if wounded. And the great spreading stain of crimson upon the black background of the raincoat, just underneath the heart, testified to the wound.

      Under her right arm she was clutching a small black leather brief case, which seemed to be more precious to her than the life blood which was pouring from her body.

      Before she had taken half a dozen steps across the wide expanse of Riverside Drive toward Stephen Klaw, a man’s voice rose in a triumphant shout, hoarse and vindictive: There she is!

      The man came tearing out from the park, a little farther down the block. At the same time, two other men broke from cover, at other points along the Drive. They had evidently been combing the park for her. All three of them converged upon her. They had peculiar weapons—the stocks resembled those of Thompson sub-machine guns, but the barrels were sawed-off so that they were only about six inches long.

      Stephen Klaw’s lips pursed tightly when he saw those guns in the hands of the three men. He spat the cigarette from his lips, and thrust his hands down into his jacket pockets. They emerged almost at once, each gripping an automatic.

      The first of those three pursuing men dropped to one knee, and aimed his sawed-off machine gun, while the other two raised their weapons to their shoulders to fire as they ran. All three muzzles were concentrated upon the back of the staggering woman. Either they had not seen the slim, almost boyish figure of Stephen Klaw, or else they did not connect him with their quarry.

      Klaw’s eyes were cold and hard as he fired both automatics from the hip. The men on the extreme right and left of the running woman fell as those two automatics began their spiteful, deadly barking. They never even fired their weapons.

      But the third, directly behind the woman, was shielded from Klaw by her staggering body.

      The fellow saw his advantage at once, and dropped flat on the ground, raising his sawed-off machine gun and pulling the trip at the same time. A burst of scattering lead belched from the mouth of the vicious weapon, spreading over a radius of twenty feet, something like the buckshot from a small gauge shotgun.

      Stephen Klaw had anticipated this tactic. There was only one thing he could do, and he did it without reflection or hesitation. Almost before his two automatics had ceased thundering, he launched himself in a flying tackle, straight at the running woman. He reached her a split instant before the sawed-off machine gun belched forth its lead.

      Klaw’s shoulder struck the woman’s legs and she fell over him, landing so that his body was between her and the machine-gunner. The spray of lead whistled through the air, just above their heads. The man had fired high, evidently hoping to riddle the woman’s body from the waist up. Only a few of the pellets arced low enough to strike Klaw, and he barely felt them as he fired his right-hand automatic from his prone position on the ground. His slug took the machine-gunner square in the forehead, and the man just relaxed and lay still.

      Stephen sprang to one knee and knelt beside the dark-haired woman. She was trying feebly to stir. A moan escaped from her lips. The wound in her breast was bleeding profusely, and though she had escaped the leaden hail from the machine gun, Klaw could

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