Read Dirty Harry 09 - The Killing Connection for Free Online Page B

headlights were like two burning sets of angry eyes. It smashed its face into the wood and canvas structures, grinding them under the steel belted radials like a mulch mower. Workers scattered before it and in its wake, leaving their wares to be splattered in a ring around the metal monster.
    So much for an easy arrest. It must’ve been Tuccio’s car, driven by a dedicated chauffeur who saw his boss’s trouble and was riding to the rescue. If Harry had been him, he would’ve taken the opportunity to fold his tent and sneak into the night in search of a new boss, but crud like Tuccio usually attracted even less sophisticated associates—the kind who saw a target painted on every man in uniform.
    But Harry was not the driver. He was right in the chauffeur’s sightlines, standing square in between the two blazing headlights. The car’s appearance was enough to loosen the cops’ hold on the others. They immediately pushed away from the sight, each pulling a gun from inside their jackets.
    Bellowing over the roar of the Lincoln’s engine, Bender produced a brutal looking .45 automatic and tried to blast not Harry, but Tuccio, where he stood.
    “You tried to set me up!” he accused over the shattering explosion of the big gun.
    Tuccio didn’t hear any of it, but his attention was diverted from the approaching car long enough for him to see one of his bodyguards taking the slug that was meant for him. Bender was throwing himself backward over the counter of the shack he had emerged from even as he was firing, while the guard had been moving to protect his boss. Tuccio watched as the guard took the .45 slug in the left side of his chest, spinning him totally around as a stream of blood spit out of his breast and spread across his shirt.
    The guard’s own shiny .357 plated revolver skipped across the black concrete floor before he fell heavily to his knees, then flopped onto his back, his arms wide, his head smacking sickeningly onto the hard ground cover. Tuccio stumbled back, giving Harry a fleeting clear shot at the retreating black man.
    Ignoring the oncoming car, Harry shouted “Stop!” and set the .44’s sights on the dropping Bender. He pulled the trigger just as Tuccio’s second guard got in the way. The man had been following his fallen partner, only to catch Harry’s bullet in the neck. Sure enough, just as Harry said, the high caliber slug was enough to rip his head right off at that range.
    Tuccio was splattered by his second guard’s guts, which drove him back even faster. The second guard moved one step forward without his head, then did a perfect swan dive forward to slam atop his dead comrade.
    “Harry, look out!” Callahan heard Devlin screaming from behind him. “Forget it, just get out of the way!”
    He spun to see the market’s booths being slammed aside by the Continental, which was practically on top of him. Devlin had scrambled aside as soon as it had appeared, while Tuccio and Bender had retreated far enough to be out of its way. Only Harry was in danger of its grinding wheels and battered grill.
    Even if he had thrown himself to the side, it probably wouldn’t be far or fast enough to avoid being run down. And there certainly wasn’t any way to outrun the speeding monstrosity, so Harry charged forward to meet the car head on.
    The unexpectedness of this motion caused Tuccio’s chauffeur to slam on the brakes, which sent the car skidding forward, its already gathered speed too great for it to stop. After two hard strides forward, Harry jumped up, his right foot hitting the car’s hood flat.
    From there it seemed there was nothing left for the cop to do but keep barreling ahead, meeting the car’s windshield with his legs and somersaulting brutally across the rear of the auto, winding up a heap on the hard concrete behind. The car screeched forward, twisting to the side, but once Harry had hopped on, he seemed to disappear.
    The driver heard no nasty slamming across his roof and no