Death's Head Legion Read Online Free Page B

of the stable at a full run, dragging a very scared-looking Wilhelm, whose feet were caught in a lasso.
    They heard a whistle and looked up. On the roof, Rucker was holding up three fingers.
    Three down. Two to go.
    He waved and jumped across to a building still under construction. He started climbing the latticework and frame, higher and higher.
    The Germans looked at each other and agreed—the resolved that the Freeholder was dead. One of them would follow Rucker, while the other would cut him off on the ground.
    S even blocks away, Chuy couldn’t see through the blackout hood and could barely breathe. His hands were bound behind him, and the two Germans who had jumped him in the apartment breezeway each had an elbow, guiding him down the stairs, presumably into the alley behind the apartments. He felt them frisk his pockets and heard a new voice chewing out his two escorts in German. He had no idea how much time passed.
    â€œWhy do you have him blindfolded?”
    â€œSorry, sir, it’s the usual procedure.”
    â€œIt’s going to look rather conspicuous driving through the city to the embassy with a hooded man in the back, don’t you think?”
    When the hood came off it took a second for Chuy’s eyes to adjust to the mid-morning sun. Yep, there were his two escorts. The third German—the one apparently with some common sense—was looking Chuy up and down and assessing the threat he posed.
    â€œYou managed to take him without shots fired?”
    â€œ Jawohl . He was prepared to resist with these, but Heinrich had him covered,” the first of Chuy’s captors said, handing the man who was clearly his superior officer Chuy’s escrima sticks and his Beretta pistol.
    The officer nodded as he looked the fighting implements over.
    â€œHe’s a large one. I’m not sure how tough that means he is, but during transit I want you both on your—”
    All three Germans turned when they heard fast footsteps coming up the alley. Around the corner came one of their own, one of the six who had been chasing the other Freeholder, Rucker.
    â€œNicht schissen!” said the soldier, whose name was Bauman, holding up his hands and screeching to a halt. The others lowered their pistols.
    â€œReport,” the officer ordered.
    â€œThe Freeholder is dead,” Bauman reported.
    Chuy had a decent grasp of German, and felt the blood drain from his face.
    Fox? Dead?
    How?
    â€œWhere are the others?” the officer demanded.
    â€œRucker managed to take out four of us, plus Kreiger,” Bauman said, “whom he injured in the academic offices with two pistol shots.”
    â€œWhere are the others, and what happened to Rucker?”
    â€œThat’s why I came here, sir. I need help getting our men together—most are injured,” Bauman explained. “As for Rucker—the man was like a feral animal. He took our men out one at a time. Finally, we chased him to the rooftops. He climbed up the girders of a ten-story building still under construction. That’s where he managed to knock out Gunter.”
    Chuy smiled wistfully. At least he went down fighting. Tears welled up for his friend, but Chuy swore he wouldn’t let these Hun bastards see him cry.
    â€œI was on the ground below,” Bauman said, “and I saw Rucker trying to cross a wide chasm on a six-inch-wide girder. He was running and apparently lost his balance. I saw him fall but I could not recover the body without help.” The officer nodded.
    Chuy, lost in his own moment of sorrow, wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. What did the Hun say about Rucker?
    Not that it mattered.
    The team captured, Fox dead—how could they stop the Germans now?
    Hun bastards.
    The German officer was talking again.
    â€œVery well. Secure this prisoner in my car. I will take him back to the embassy. You three go and recover our men and Rucker’s corpse.”
    All three saluted,