The Last American Wizard Read Online Free Page A

extender. Perhaps solar power.”
    He repeated, “It’s just a phone.”
    Her voice went back to that sharp, severe command level. “Do not say that again, sir.”
    Steve was getting a bit tired of being pushed around. “It’s. Just. A....”
    The cell phone was clearly malfunctioning–his breast pocket was on fire, with smoke rising in a small column. He reached to pull it out before it exploded but found that Ace had grabbed his wrist. “Damn. She’s got fingers like a bear trap,” he thought as he sucked his chest back from the shirt to lessen the pain and struggled to free his hand.
    Neither effort had the slightest success.
    The pain in his chest continued to increase and he thought he could smell burning flesh–at the least, the smell of singed chest hair. Then a pistol simply appeared–aimed squarely at the bridge of his nose. His eyes crossed as all his attention was suddenly focused on the hole at the end of the black muzzle. Ace released his wrist, used that hand to pull back the slide, and, with the light behind him, Steve could see a coppery shine appear deep inside the spiraled metal barrel.
    “Sir, I have been told that you are a crucial resource and that I should defend you with my life.” Ace spoke slowly and extremely clearly. “However, I should tell you that my orders state that this particular telephone has the potential to play an extremely important role. The optimum result of my mission is to return with both you and your phone. However, the minimum acceptable outcome is that I return with just the phone.”
    There was a pause. The pistol didn’t move–nor did Ace’s blue eyes. “Are we clear on this, sir?”
    Steve nodded. The sensation of heat and pain against his chest just stopped, the smoke vanished, and the pistol moved up and away from the bridge of his nose.
    Ace said. “Good. Now let’s get out of here.” She holstered her weapon–or at least that’s what Steve assumed happened. As far as he could tell, it just disappeared somewhere in the cargo pants.
    Ace reached for the front doorknob. There was a tremendous slamming noise and she snapped her hand back as the metal door bulged inward. Steve thought he could make out dents from an enormous skull and curled horns stamped into the steel.
    There was a second impact and he was certain of it.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
    The pistol reappeared as Ace snapped into a perfect Weaver stance and put five quick shots into the center of the door. They didn’t appear to have any effect, and a third blow struck the door. Watching the hinges twist against the frame, even Steve could see that the door wasn’t going to hold much longer.
    Ace spun, grabbed Steve by the arm, and asked, “Do you know how to fly?” before propelling him back across the apartment towards the balcony. Steve had no problem being shoved–especially as the door took another blow–but he was sure he’d misheard her last question.
    When they reached the balcony, he asked breathlessly, “What did you say?”
    With a note of exasperation, she asked again. “Do you know how to fly?”
    “Not without an airplane. And a pilot.”
    “Crap.” She looked out over the railing. Steve joined her and gazed down at the pavement four floors below. He thought of what the heroes of action movies would do and looked for other balconies that they could jump to or hang from.
    Unfortunately, the guys in adventure movies obviously had better architects. The artistically staggered design of the apartment complex meant that the only balcony he could reach was three floors down. The rental agent was quite proud of this, he remembered, saying it was an intentional protection against robbery.
    It had seemed a good idea at the time.
    Another enormous slam echoed from his front door. Steve took a quick look and saw two of the three hinges hanging loose and the latch plate almost out of the frame. It wasn’t going to survive another– slam.
    Now, the dent in the door was so deep that