Read Spy Killer for Free Online

down the paved floor, swearing and kicking at the bars, but at last his anger burned itself out and he sat down on a bench.
    “One jail after another,” said Kurt. “I should have let them hang me the first time.”
    He grinned at that and stretched out, glad to have a few hours’ sleep away from the scrutiny of Yang and the six members of the Death Squad.
    After what seemed a minute or two, but which was really six hours, Kurt was awakened by the slither of a rope into the enclosure.
    He propped himself up on one elbow and stared about him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was cold, and the bench had bitten deeply into his hard body, but he had the feeling that something was wrong and he came alert in an instant.
    He saw stars over him and noticed for the first time that the enclosure had no roof. The bars were bent into hooks at the top to discourage anyone from climbing out. Next he saw a long snakelike thing which made him jump.
    He touched it in the darkness and found that it was a rope. Puzzled and holding his breath, he stood up.
    A scraping sound came from the top of the bars, and presently Kurt saw a man outlined against the sky. Slowly the man began to descend.
    Until it was too late, Kurt thought that Varinka had located him and was about to engineer his escape. He stood by until the hazily seen Chinese was firmly on the floor.
    A knife glittered in the stranger’s hand. The Chinese took a step toward Kurt.
    “Captain Yang,” said the guard in a low voice, “has passed the sentence upon you. You have failed Lin Wang, you are no further use to him. I am a member of the Death Squad.”
    The man dived in and the knife came down. Kurt was rocked back. The bars creaked as they were struck. Kurt caught the knife wrist and pried it back. He had been too startled to cry out, and now he needed all his breath.
    The garlic-reeking mouth of the Chinese was close to Kurt’s face. The man was trying to bring up his knees for a numbing blow. Kurt drove in his right fist and heard it crunch against a bone.
    The Chinese gave ground slowly. Kurt pushed up with all his might, striving to keep back the knife, but he was dealing with a man who had fought with steel his whole life.
    The arm went limp. Kurt was thrown off his balance. He let go the wrist for a fraction of a second. The knife came down with vicious strength.
    Kurt lurched back, deflecting the blade by making it hit his shoulder broadside. He doubled up and dropped to the floor. The Chinese attempted to pin Kurt down, but Kurt suddenly exploded.
    On top of the Chinese, Kurt secured the dagger hand with his knee and then with both hands, Kurt raised the close-shaven head and slammed it back to the concrete. Once, twice, the third time the head did not bounce. The man’s eyes rolled far up into his head. A sticky smear of blood stained the concrete black in the starlight.
    Kurt stood up and rubbed his sleeve across his forehead. He felt drained and shaking. One slip and he would be lying there instead of the Chinese.
    Abruptly he remembered that other members of the Death Squad might be waiting outside.
    “Guard!” cried Kurt. “Mamori!”
    The rope had looked inviting until he thought about Yang. Now a barred enclosure was just the thing.
    Doors slammed, men came running, rifles clanking. Flashlights stabbed through the bars.
    Japanese entered and looked down at the Chinese and then at Kurt.
    “He tried to kill me,” began Kurt.
    “But how did he get in?” demanded an officer.
    Kurt pointed to the rope.
    “Who was he?”
    Kurt thought it best to be discreet on that point. “A man who thought I had wronged him.”
    “That’s likely,” said the officer with a grunt. “He would hate very well to make an attempt on your life in here.”
    The men started to go away, taking the dead man with them. “Wait a minute,” said Kurt. “I’m not going to stay in here.”
    “Why not?”
    “The man might have friends.”
    “All right,” said the officer,