ambush down in the bayou country. They probably had a pretty good idea that he was Millard's new right-hand man. That would give Royale a good reason for wanting him dead--or better yet, a prisoner who could be interrogated and made to give up all of Millard's secrets.
As a point of fact, Longarm didn't really know any of Millard's secrets just yet. But Royale might not be aware of that.
Whether Royale wanted him killed or captured didn't really matter. Longarm didn't intend to allow either of those things to come to pass.
He walked under another street light, still taking it slow and easy. From the sound of the footsteps behind him, the fella who was shuffling along back there had closed up the gap a little. But he wasn't in any hurry either. He sure did drag his feet too, noted Longarm. The footsteps were slow but inexorable, and they came steadily closer.
Longarm glanced back again, and this time he got a better look at his follower. The man was so tall and broad-shouldered that he reminded Longarm of a medium-sized tree. His arms hung limply at his sides and seemed to dangle almost to his knees. His dark, curly hair was cut short, and in the light of the street lamp, his skin was like rich chocolate.
Why would some gigantic black fella be following him? Longarm wondered. The man wasn't wearing a derby and a bandanna mask, and he didn't strike Longarm as the type that Royale would have hired in the first place. All the rest of Royale's paid killers had been white.
Longarm reached a corner and turned, not even noticing what street he was on. He just wanted to give the slip to the man trailing him, then turn the tables and do a little trailing of his own. His two looks back should have given the big black man the idea that he realized he was being followed. Now Longarm ducked into the first alley mouth he found, letting the shadows swallow him. He waited for the slap-slap of running footsteps as the man hurried to catch up to him.
Instead, the slow shuffle continued. Longarm had no trouble knowing where the man was just by listening. The man reached the corner and rounded it, coming steadily toward the alley where Longarm was hidden. The lawman waited, drawing his Colt as the steps came nearer.
But instead of stopping, the man plodded right past the darkened mouth of the alley. Longarm saw him, a huge patch of deeper darkness in the shadows that cloaked the street.
The man continued for several steps, and as he did Longarm wondered if he had been completely mistaken about being followed. From the looks of it, the man didn't have any interest in him at all.
But then the man stopped short, as if drawn up at the end of a rope. He stood there for a long moment, just past the alley mouth, and then slowly, ponderously, he began to turn around. He moved toward the alley, lifting his arms as he came. The fingers on the ham-like hands spread out, as if ready to wrap themselves around somebody's neck.
Longarm was certain now just whose neck the fella was after.
He stepped out of the alley before the man could get there, raising his gun and pointing it toward the giant, menacing shape. 'Hold it right there, old son,' Longarm said. 'I don't know what business you got with me, but I reckon we can talk it over.'
He thought there was still plenty of room between them, but he hadn't counted on the man being able to cover that distance in one huge step. The man lurched forward, reaching out with those long fingers. There was a certain awkwardness about his movements, but he was quick enough.
Almost quick enough anyway. Longarm twisted aside so that the giant stumbled past him. 'Damn it!' Longarm snapped in frustration. He didn't want to have to kill the man. A corpse couldn't answer any questions.
The giant caught himself and swung around, lashing out with an arm and trying to backhand Longarm. Longarm ducked underneath the blow, letting it pass harmlessly over his head. Once the man started something, he seemed unable to stop until he had completed the action, whatever it was. Maybe he was a mite slow in the head, thought Longarm. The expression on the man's face when he passed beneath that second street lamp had been rather dull, and the threat of Longarm's gun seemed utterly meaningless to him.
Longarm danced back along the sidewalk, putting himself out of reach again. 'Blast it, old son,' he grated, 'I'm going to have to put a bullet in your knee if you don't settle down. You won't ever walk right again if I do that.'
The man made no response except to lurch toward Longarm again. In fact, Longarm realized as a cold touch rippled up his spine, the man hadn't made a sound during the entire encounter. Longarm hadn't heard anything from him except the shuffle and scrape of his shoes on the cobblestones. The fella wasn't even breathing heavy.
The coldness along Longarm's spine got even icier as he realized that he couldn't tell if the man was breathing at all.
He shoved that thought out of his mind and darted aside, avoiding the giant's lunge once more. This time, however, the man seemed more prepared for Longarm's response. He reached back, even as he was stumbling to a halt, and caught hold of Longarm's coat sleeve.
The man's strength was like nothing Longarm had ever faced before. He found himself literally jerked off his feet and swung around. His back slammed into the wall of a building, knocking the air out of his lungs and the hat off his head. As he bounced off the wall, the giant's other hand clamped onto his throat.
Caught like that with no air in his body, Longarm felt the desperation of a dying man almost as soon as the fingers closed around his throat in a grip like iron. His vision turned red and muddy, and he could barely make out the huge shape looming right in front of him. He slashed at where he thought the man's head was with the barrel of the Colt and felt it strike something soft and yielding. Almost in a frenzy, Longarm lashed out again and again, pistol-whipping the man who was trying to kill him.
The fingers locked around his throat didn't budge.
The fight continued in eerie silence. Longarm's feet were off the ground. The giant pressed him back against the brick wall of the building, supporting him with that dreadful grip around his throat. Longarm felt his strength ebbing away, and couldn't lift the gun to hit the man again. The part of his brain that was still working told him he was going to pass out in a matter of seconds, and if he did, he knew he would never wake up this side of the grave.
There was only one thing he could do, while he still had a little strength.
He jammed the barrel of the gun against the body of his attacker and started pulling the trigger.
