The Great Game Read Online Free Page B
hair down.
  The firing stopped and then someone was beside him, grabbing him. He turned and saw Verloc from the bookshop, grinning at him â the first time, perhaps, he had ever seen him look happy.
  "Come on!" Verloc said. He pulled Smith, who stood up and followed him. The two men ran across the cabbage patch, over what was left of the fence (which wasn't much) and into the field beyond.
  Smith could hear M. screaming again, then a second round of shooting. His poor house. No. 6 would never be the same again, after this. He should have taken care of this business on his own.
  Well, too late now.
  Turning, he saw Colonel Creighton, the baroness by his side, going through the garden and into the house, the colonel armed with a curved khukuri knife, the baroness, less ostentatiously, with a couple of small-calibre, elegant hand guns, one in each hand. He raised his head and saw, floating above the house, a long, graceful black shape: an airship.
  "Don't let it get away," Smith said. Beside him, Verloc grinned. "Shall we?" he said.
  "Let's," Smith said.
  Verloc went first, and Smith followed. Back towards the house. M. covered them, but there weren't many of the attackers moving around, any more. "I need at least one of them alive," Smith said.
  "Let's see what we can find," Verloc called, over his shoulder. They reached the wall of the house and Verloc, with a litheness that belied his age, took hold of the drain pipe and began to climb. Smith, less enthusiastically, followed.
  It was not a tall house and they reached the roof easily enough. The airship had been moored to it but the remaining figures on the roof were busy climbing up it and clearly they had changed their minds about their chances and were keen on getting away. Smith knew M. would shoot the balloon but he feared they had used hydrogen, and he didn't want yet another explosion.
  " Halt !" he said. Verloc had twin guns pointed at the escaping men â some sort of light-alloy devices he didn't have a moment before â he must have picked them up off the fallen soldiers. Smith himself had one of the guns.
  " Schnell! Schnell!" Verloc fired. He couldn't help himself, Smith thought. It couldn't have been easy, all those years, without even a burglar to attempt Verloc's bookshop.
  One, two, three men fell, screaming, clutching wounded legs. Verloc liked going for the knees. These soldiers, at least, were unlikely to walk again.
  Then he saw him.
  The man was young and moved with a grace that Smith found himself, suddenly and unexpectedly, incredibly jealous of. He had come from the other side of the wall, out of shadow. Smith had almost missed him. Then the man lifted his hand and something silver flashed, for just a moment, and, beside Smith, Verloc grunted in pain and dropped, quietly, to the floor.
  "Verloc!"
  "Don't worry⦠about me," Verloc said. His hand was on his belly, a blade protruding from between his fingers. Blood was seeping through, falling onto the wall.
  Smith was already moving, towards the young man, his vision clear, his mind as cool as water. He saw the flash of a new blade and side-stepped it and unhurriedly entered into the young man's range and head-butted him, hearing the bones of the nose breaking. His fingers found the young man's neck and pressed, the thumbs digging. He applied pressure â just enough. They were attempting to fire at him from above, the airship cut loose and rising higher, but M. had him covered, firing low, and Smith grabbed the unconscious man and dragged him to where Verloc lay still. He knelt to check him but Verloc was no longer breathing, and so Smith dragged the young man by the arm to the edge of the roof and fell over it, dragging the younger man down with him.
  He hit the ground, rolled, and the younger man followed. Smith dragged him away when
  The firing stopped and then someone was beside him, grabbing him. He turned and saw Verloc from the bookshop, grinning at him â the first time, perhaps, he had ever seen him look happy.
  "Come on!" Verloc said. He pulled Smith, who stood up and followed him. The two men ran across the cabbage patch, over what was left of the fence (which wasn't much) and into the field beyond.
  Smith could hear M. screaming again, then a second round of shooting. His poor house. No. 6 would never be the same again, after this. He should have taken care of this business on his own.
  Well, too late now.
  Turning, he saw Colonel Creighton, the baroness by his side, going through the garden and into the house, the colonel armed with a curved khukuri knife, the baroness, less ostentatiously, with a couple of small-calibre, elegant hand guns, one in each hand. He raised his head and saw, floating above the house, a long, graceful black shape: an airship.
  "Don't let it get away," Smith said. Beside him, Verloc grinned. "Shall we?" he said.
  "Let's," Smith said.
  Verloc went first, and Smith followed. Back towards the house. M. covered them, but there weren't many of the attackers moving around, any more. "I need at least one of them alive," Smith said.
  "Let's see what we can find," Verloc called, over his shoulder. They reached the wall of the house and Verloc, with a litheness that belied his age, took hold of the drain pipe and began to climb. Smith, less enthusiastically, followed.
  It was not a tall house and they reached the roof easily enough. The airship had been moored to it but the remaining figures on the roof were busy climbing up it and clearly they had changed their minds about their chances and were keen on getting away. Smith knew M. would shoot the balloon but he feared they had used hydrogen, and he didn't want yet another explosion.
  " Halt !" he said. Verloc had twin guns pointed at the escaping men â some sort of light-alloy devices he didn't have a moment before â he must have picked them up off the fallen soldiers. Smith himself had one of the guns.
  " Schnell! Schnell!" Verloc fired. He couldn't help himself, Smith thought. It couldn't have been easy, all those years, without even a burglar to attempt Verloc's bookshop.
  One, two, three men fell, screaming, clutching wounded legs. Verloc liked going for the knees. These soldiers, at least, were unlikely to walk again.
  Then he saw him.
  The man was young and moved with a grace that Smith found himself, suddenly and unexpectedly, incredibly jealous of. He had come from the other side of the wall, out of shadow. Smith had almost missed him. Then the man lifted his hand and something silver flashed, for just a moment, and, beside Smith, Verloc grunted in pain and dropped, quietly, to the floor.
  "Verloc!"
  "Don't worry⦠about me," Verloc said. His hand was on his belly, a blade protruding from between his fingers. Blood was seeping through, falling onto the wall.
  Smith was already moving, towards the young man, his vision clear, his mind as cool as water. He saw the flash of a new blade and side-stepped it and unhurriedly entered into the young man's range and head-butted him, hearing the bones of the nose breaking. His fingers found the young man's neck and pressed, the thumbs digging. He applied pressure â just enough. They were attempting to fire at him from above, the airship cut loose and rising higher, but M. had him covered, firing low, and Smith grabbed the unconscious man and dragged him to where Verloc lay still. He knelt to check him but Verloc was no longer breathing, and so Smith dragged the young man by the arm to the edge of the roof and fell over it, dragging the younger man down with him.
  He hit the ground, rolled, and the younger man followed. Smith dragged him away when
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