Read Dirty Harry 11 - Death in the Air for Free Online

know her?”
    “No,” Patterson said, after some thought. “No, I didn’t.”
    “I saw a picture of her, back at headquarters,” DiGeorgio continued. “You two looked similar enough to be sisters.”
    “Really?” the woman replied. “That’s a coincidence, isn’t it?”
    “We don’t know yet,” Harry said meaningfully, taking in the information. “But we thought we had better see you.”
    “Of course,” Patterson agreed. “But I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of Margaret Murray before.”
    “Martha,” DiGeorgio corrected.
    “Martha, was it?” the woman echoed, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . it’s just such terrible news. Oh, that poor girl . . .”
    Harry looked at his partner with concern. When he glanced back at Patterson, he saw that she was preoccupied with blowing on her fingertips. He had just enough time to realize that the chill in the subway wasn’t in evidence here when he heard the distant, popping sounds coming from down the hall.
    His head swiveled on his neck like a sensitive radar dish. Anyone else might have disregarded the noises. To Callahan, it was the unmistakable sound of gunfire—distant enough not to have the angry cracking, but not far enough away to be in another building.
    “Holy shit,” DiGeorgio said succinctly, realizing the same thing. Without offering any kind of explanation, the two men raced down the hall, trying to trace the sounds to their origin.
    By the time they reached the center of the floor, the main nurse’s desk was already in tumultuous activity. Meanwhile, the gunshot sounds continued. Harry grabbed one of the scurrying nurses by the arm. “Where is that noise coming from?” he asked the wide-eyed girl.
    “Surgery,” she gasped. “Down in the new wing.”
    As the nurse slipped out of Callahan’s grasp, DiGeorgio was already flashing his badge and getting detailed directions from the flustered desk nurse. The two men took the stairs down several flights until they reached a locked basement door. They could hear the gunfire coming clearly from the other side.
    “Is it worth it?” DiGeorgio asked.
    “It’s worth it,” Harry answered, already backing up.
    The Sergeant’s Ruger Police Service Six revolver came out of his belt holster. Standing to the side of the door, he blew the knob and lock off. He did it from the side, because he didn’t want one of his .357 caliber loads accidentally hitting an innocent bystander.
    As soon as the metal knob had clattered to the floor, Harry moved forward, drawing his .44 Magnum and pulling at the broken door. Just as he pulled it open, the body of a wounded black intern fell face-first from the other side onto the stairway floor.
    “Christ,” DiGeorgio exclaimed in surprise, automatically leaning down to check on the man’s condition.
    While he was doing that, Callahan stepped around the bleeding man and plastered himself against the left frame of the open door, his gun up. He hazarded a look around the corner. All he saw was a long, thin hallway made up of reinforced cinder blocks occasionally interrupted by windows. At the far end of the hall, he saw the back of a uniformed patrolman kneeling behind the corner.
    Harry looked back at DiGeorgio. “It wasn’t my bullet that did this,” the Sergeant reported. “He was shot high in the back.”
    “Get to a phone and make sure police back-up is coming,” Harry instructed. “I don’t want hospital security handling this alone.”
    He didn’t wait for a reply before turning the corner and running down the hall. He kneeled down next to the patrolman, who reacted to his appearance with a start. Harry looked into the face of a surprised, sweating Jim Petrillo. The next thing he noticed was that the cop’s holster was empty, and that the gun wasn’t in his hand.
    “What happened?” Callahan demanded.
    “I don’t know!” Petrillo practically wailed. “One minute he’s got the shakes—he can’t walk, he can