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Opis ebooka Relentless - Brian Garfield

A Native American sheriff chases a gang of bloodthirsty bank robbers. Were it not for the copper mine, San Miguel wouldn't exist. A hardscrabble town hewn out of the Arizona desert, it's long on sand and short on excitement. For fun its citizens go to Las Vegas twice a month, just after picking up their paychecks. Because most of the miners take their pay in cash, every two weeks more than a million dollars moves through San Miguel's little bank, watched over by heavy security from the sheriff's department. This week, the security is not strong enough. A team of shotgun-wielding men burst into the bank. They disable the guards with mace, killing one, and leave with the largest bank haul in Arizona history. Sam Watchman, a Navajo state trooper, is on their trail. But these men aren't just robbers; they're psychopaths. Watchman is in for the hunt of his life.

Opinie o ebooku Relentless - Brian Garfield

Fragment ebooka Relentless - Brian Garfield

Contents

Cover

About the Book

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

Looking for more suspense?

Cover

Begin Reading

About the Book

A Native American sheriff chases a gang of bloodthirsty bank robbers.

Were it not for the copper mine, San Miguel wouldn’t exist. A hardscrabble town hewn out of the Arizona desert, it’s long on sand and short on excitement. For fun its citizens go to Las Vegas twice a month, just after picking up their paychecks. Because most of the miners take their pay in cash, every two weeks more than a million dollars moves through San Miguel’s little bank, watched over by heavy security from the sheriff’s department. This week, the security is not strong enough.

A team of shotgun-wielding men burst into the bank. They disable the guards with mace, killing one, and leave with the largest bank haul in Arizona history. Sam Watchman, a Navajo state trooper, is on their trail. But these men aren’t just robbers; they’re psychopaths. Watchman is in for the hunt of his life.

About the Author

The author of more than seventy books, Brian Garfield (b. 1939) is one of the country’s most prolific writes of thrillers, westerns and other genre fiction. Raised in Arizona, Garfield found success at an early age, publishing his first novel when he was only eighteen. After time in the Army, a few years touring with a jazz band, and a Master’s Degree from the University of Arizona, he settled into writing full time.

Relentless

Brian Garfield

 

BASTEI ENTERTAINMENT

 

Bastei Entertainment is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe AG

 

Copyright © 2015 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany

 

For the original edition:

Copyright © 2011 by The Mysterious Press, LLC, 58 Warren Street, New York, NY. U.S.A.

 

Copyright © 1972 by Brian Garfield

 

Project management: Lori Herber

Cover adaptation: Christin Wilhelm, www.grafic4u.de

Cover design by Mumtaz Mustafa

 

E-book production: Jouve Germany GmbH & Co. KG

 

ISBN 978-3-95859-098-4

 

www.bastei-entertainment.com

 

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this e-book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Jim and Linda—May your house be freeof Kavanagh’s displeasure.

CHAPTER

1

1

This stretch always tempted the drivers who had Le Mans fixations: it came down off the mountain like a ski slope and two-laned straight out across the twenty-mile flat below.

It was a Friday forenoon at the dying end of October. The aspen forest had turned gold. Watchman and Stevens lay in wait in the Roadside Rest Area, parked under the trees. There wasn’t a billboard to hide behind but the ritual was the same. Under the molten brass sun the shadows were black and had sharp edges; drivers barreling down the highway wouldn’t spot the cruiser until it had them nailed.

Downstate on more populous roads you could poke along five miles under the limit and gather a clot of traffic tamed and intimidated by the presence of your Highway Patrol car, and it would create a chain wave of caution that would slow them down for miles ahead and behind. But up in this corner of Arizona you seldom got more than one car in half an hour and the strategy of Visible Presence didn’t work. They had put Watchman and the rookie on this beat four months ago and it had been easy to size up: State Highway 793 was the only through route in the district but it was wide open for a hundred and fifty miles. Watchman had planted the word with gas stations and cafés from the mountains to the Nevada line and now the tourists were getting the warnings: You want to watch out, there’s a cop car posted somewheres between here and the Nevada border—speed trap, watch your step. Up here they didn’t assign a ticket quota and Watchman didn’t care about writing up violations but back in August a Cadillac going down this stretch at a hundred and five had dropped a tie rod and they had spent two hours with a blowtorch scraping the remains of the five passengers out of the wreckage. Now the word had spread and the road had been tamed, except for the occasional drunk and a few hot-rod tourists on their way to Las Vegas who hadn’t got the word.

Trooper Stevens shook up his bottle of root beer and spouted foam into his mouth from six inches away. “This sucks. I’ve had more fun watching TV test patterns.”

“Possibly you’d rather work for a living?”

“Typical lazy Inyun remark.”

Watchman gave him a pained look. “For you I pay taxes?”

“Join the Highway Patrol, see the world. Glamour, excitement, thrills!”

Sam Watchman slid down in the driver’s seat until he was sitting on the back of his neck and his knees butted the steering column. He cupped a brown hand around the back of his neck and reared his head back lazily. He hadn’t expected to like working with the rookie—he’d never had a partner before—but it was working out. What Buck Stevens didn’t know about the job could fill a thick manual but he was good-humored and he was flexible and in the end, when push came to shove, that was what counted: flexibility.

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!

Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!