Read Assignment - Manchurian Doll for Free Online Page A

was stubborn and her dark gray eyes shielded panic, summarizing Durell and Eliot with one quick glance. She was a tall girl, and the top of her strangely pale hair reached above Durell’s shoulders.
    “Will you please explain?” she asked tightly.
    “There is no time.” Eliot took her arm and started her for the compartment door. “You won’t be hurt. We only want to talk to you. It’s to your personal interest that you come quietly with us.”
    “Am I being arrested?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Personal interest, you say? But you behave like American gangsters—”
    Her apparent confusion would have been convincing, if Durell did not know her history. She pretended a deceptive helplessness—at least to Eliot Barnes. He should not have put his hand so courteously on her arm.
    The girl looked at his young, freckled face and smiled in pretty puzzlement. And then she screamed, the sound cracking the air, swung her handbag in his face with a hard, vicious blow, and jumped for the compartment door.
    The train was stopped. There were querulous Japanese in the corridors demanding to know about the emergency stop. Outside, there was nothing to see but the dark, brooding night in the mountains. Someone was shouting on the cinder path below the train. A lantern flickered in the window, and Durell glimpsed Tagashi out there.
    Then the girl caromed into him.
    Her prim and helpless manner had vanished; in a twinkling she had changed to a wild tigress. Eliot sprawled on the compartment seat with blood on his face. Durell sidestepped the girl’s low jab and caught her about the waist as she tried to dart down the corridor. Her momentum carried her around and she slammed violently into him. Her body was hard, muscular. Her nails clawed at his face. He blocked her, swung her wrist down and around her back and yanked it up, and she screamed again, this time in real pain. There was no time for pity. He forced her, struggling and bucking against him, all the way to the coach door. Eliot followed, wiping his bloody nose with chagrin, and ran past them to open the vestibule panel. A cool wind blew in their faces. Below, the lantern waved again in Tagashi’s hand. Red lights flickered down the curved track, and there was a geometrical pattern of yellow rectangles on the cinder path from the train windows.
    “Let me go!” the girl gasped. “You must be mad! You will all suffer, you will die—”
    Eliot jumped down and waited for her with a wry grin. “Come on, wildcat, everything is all right. We just want a quiet little talk, that’s all.”
    She fought against Durell’s grip. “I have nothing—to tell you—”
    Her thick hair brushed against Durell’s face. She was not going to jump down. He pushed her, and she cried out as she fell from the steps. Eliot caught her, but he was not quick enough to cope with her trickery. She twisted free in an instant and started to run up the trackside. Durell caught her in a dozen steps and flung her, stumbling, to the cinders. A small cry of defeat broke from her. There were angry shouts and questions from the other passengers, the impatient hoot of the locomotive up near the tunnel entrance.
    “Get up!” Durell snapped. “We’re going to a lot of trouble to help you.”
    “Help me? You are gangsters—imperialist agents—” Her breath panted. “I want no help! How dare you—”
    He hauled her to her feet without ceremony. She staggered, fell against him, and again her trickery became evident. Her hand slipped instantly inside his coat and almost got his .38 free from under his arm. She was quick and clever—but not quite quick enough. He tore the gun from her and she cursed in Russian, a shocking and vile term. She tried to run again. He tripped her, sent her sprawling on hands and knees.
    Her thick, pale hair came loose from its prim bun at the nape of her neck and hung in a heavy screen across her face. He yanked her up once more.
    Tagashi and Eliot ran up. Tagashi’s