Read The Cobra for Free Online

Miss Jeffers," Hunter said. "Raise your hands slowly and lock your fingers on top of your head."
    She did as she was ordered.
    McBain reached under his coat. He took out a pair of handcuffs.
    Blake reached under his own coat. He took out a Walther P-38 pistol . " Freeze!" he shouted.
    The cops whirled around. Hunter got off a shot at Blake, then cried out and flopped backward as Blake's pistol roared. McBain swung his revolver toward Blake. Before he could fire, Blake pulled the trigger four times. The blasts pounded his ears. McBain spun, crashed over a stool, and fell. Hunter, already on the floor, raised his gun for another shot. Blake emptied his clip at the man. With each shot,
    Hunter twitched as if he was actually being struck by a bullet. His blue sport shirt was soaked with red from broken bloodbags.
    Lana Jeffers stared with wide eyes at the two fallen officers. Her face looked pale, almost gray. Then she looked at Blake. For just a moment, he saw horror and disgust on her face. It quickly passed. She made a tight, crooked smile, leaped off the stool, and jerked her purse out from under McBain's body.
    "Let's go," Blake said.
    With a nod, she ran past him. Blake waved his pistol at the shocked diners. "Nobody move!" he shouted. He walked backward to the door. Decker, still sitting at the table, smiled slightly to himself.
    Lana was waiting just outside the door. "Have you got a car?" Blake asked.
    She shook her head.
    "Okay, we'll take mine." Grabbing her hand, he pulled her along the sidewalk. She ran beside him, her white boots flashing over the pavement. She kept her eyes straight ahead as if she was afraid to look at him. Blake guided her around a corner at the end of the block. His car was at the curb. He jerked open the passenger door for Lana, then raced around the front and got in behind the steering wheel. With a glance in both directions, he saw that the street was clear. He whipped the car into a U-turn, and sped away.
    "Slow down," Lana said after a few seconds. "You don't want to get stopped for speeding."
    "Right," Blake said. He let up on the gas pedal.
    For a long time, neither of them spoke.
    Blake drove slowly through the San Francisco streets. He wondered what to say. This wasn't one of the endless rehearsals Decker had put him through, back at the station. This was real. The well-practiced story didn't seem quite so believable now. It seemed thin and fake. Lana would see through it. She would know he was a cop. Maybe she already knew.
    Finally, Lana broke the silence. "You sure did a number on those jerks."
    He looked at her. Her grin sent a chill up his back. He tried to smile. His face felt stiff. "I whacked them good, huh?"
    "Two more cops out of the way," Lana said. "Thanks. I don't know who you are, but . . ."
    "I know who you are," Blake said. "Lana Jeffers."
    She looked surprised.
    "You've been doing good work for us," Blake said.
    "You're one of us?" she asked.
    He nodded. "Carlos sent me out here on a job."
    "Carlos?" She spoke the name of the PSF's leader quietly, almost in a whisper. "Carlos, himself, sent you? Who are you?"
    He took out his pistol and handed it to Lana.
    "A Walther P-38," she said. Then she saw the small ivory snake inlaid on its handle. The snake decoration that had been added by Decker's brother-in-law, a jeweler. "A cobra," Lana whispered. She gazed at Blake with wide eyes. "You're the Cobra?"
    "That's right," he said.
    Lana had a stunned look on her face, almost like a teenager gazing at a favorite rock star. She handed the pistol back to him and said, "Holy smoke."

"I 've heard so much about you," Lana told him. "The Cobra. I can't believe it." She smiled at Blake. "I always pictured the Cobra as a big ugly brute with scars. You look so clean-cut and . . . handsome."
    "Thanks," he said. He felt pleased and slightly embarrassed that she found him good-looking. More than that, he was relieved that she had bought his identity. Decker had told him that very few