By Mickey Spillane
Reissued to coincide with the discharge of Spillane's 12th Mike Hammer novel, "The Killing Man", the 1st for twenty years. Mike Hammer reveals himself concerned with a really nasty underground community conspiring to break the united states.
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I handed him a couple of singles, slammed the door, watched him pull away and crossed the street over to where Lippy Sullivan had died such a messy death. ” CHAPTER 2 The fat little super who smelled of sweat and beer didn’t give me any lip this time. It wasn’t because of the first time or because he had seen me there in the midst of the homicide squad with a gold shield cop my buddy. It was because I was the same kind of New York he was, only from a direction he was afraid of. There was nothing he could put his finger on; a squawk wouldn’t bother me and could hurt him, and if he didn’t play it nice and easy he could play it hard and get himself squeezed.
He didn’t call the cops, Mike. He called you. ” “When I got him that job. ” “That was two years ago, you said. ” I grinned at him and reached for a cigarette. “You’re still pretty sharp, kid,” I told him. ” I fired up the butt and blew a stream of gray smoke toward the ceiling. ” “For a nothing guy like him it’s too nasty a kill. ” I glanced over at the discolored sawdust and felt my mouth turn sour. “One of three things. A psycho kill, a revenge kill or a torture kill. ” Pat’s voice had a curious edge to it.
I could feel the hunger start and didn’t want it to get loose, so just as gently I pushed her away, letting my hands slide down the satin nudity of her back until my fingertips rested on the top of those crazy hip huggers and my thumbs encircled her almost to those exotic areas where there is no turning back. I heard her breath catch in her throat and felt the muscles tauten, her skin go damp under my palms, then I let her go. “That was mean,” she said. ” The throaty laugh bubbled up again and she let her hands ease down from my neck and across my chest.