Warn Angel! (A Frank Angel Western--Book 9)

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Warn Angel! (A Frank Angel Western--Book 9) Page 14

by Frederick H. Christian


  In his report he complained bitterly at the demands that were made by ‘certain departments in government’ upon their men. A copy of his report had been forwarded to the attorney general, and he had made his usual notation upon it: F&F. File and Forget. Amabel Rowe had filed quite a few such reports in her day.

  ‘How was Charleston?’ the attorney general asked. Angel had spent his convalescence there. It was a pretty little place and Angel said so. Then there was a silence. Neither man really wanted to bring up the subject; both knew it was unavoidable. Finally, Angel took the plunge.

  ‘About Willowfield,’ he said. The attorney general didn’t say anything, just looked up expectantly.

  ‘I tried to take him alive,’ Angel said.

  ‘I know it,’ the attorney general said. ‘I also know that you let friend Willowfield pull a concealed weapon on you.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘With which he then proceeded to blow a large hole in you.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Goddammit, Angel!’ the attorney general exploded. ‘You could be damned well dead!’

  Angel grinned. He knew that the Old Man’s exasperation rose out of concern for his people; he also knew exactly how well Bob Little’s wife’s future had been taken care of, even though the attorney general had done his best to keep it a secret.

  ‘If it’ll make you any happier, I’ll go out and get run over by a dray,’ he offered.

  ‘Bah!’ the attorney general snapped. ‘You’re so damned lucky you’d have to pay to catch bubonic plague!’

  There wasn’t any good answer to that, so Angel remained silent, while the attorney general reached for a cigar from the humidor on his desk.

  Remembering his manners, the Old Man offered one to Angel, who shook his head hastily. The last time he had smoked one of those things, he had lost his sense of taste for three days.

  ‘When’s your leave up?’ the attorney general asked, puffing at the stogie with a relish that appalled Angel.

  ‘Already,’ Angel said. ‘I report back next Monday.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said the attorney general, noncommittally. ‘And meanwhile? Got any plans?’

  ‘One or two things I want to do,’ Angel said. He did not elaborate. In fact, he’d already arranged to take Amabel Rowe out to dinner at a new French restaurant that had opened up in Georgetown, but telling the attorney general that would have been like touching a match to a stick of dynamite: the Old Man was notoriously protective of the beautiful Amabel. Angel changed the subject with a question.

  ‘Falco and Kuden?’ the attorney general said. ‘They were hanged at Leavenworth on the first of the month.’ He gave Angel an up-from-under look. ‘Two out of the whole gang. Not much use my giving you orders to capture, not kill, is it?’

  ‘Not when they can shoot back, sir,’ Angel said.

  ‘Your humor’s getting worse than your reflexes,’ the attorney general said gruffly. ‘Go on, go on, get yourself out of here. I’ve got a lot of problems besides you!’

  Angel grinned, getting up to leave. The Old Man never changed: his bite was worse than his bark. He felt better already.

  ‘Those plans of yours,’ the attorney general said, as Angel opened the door to the anteroom.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘They don’t by any chance include a, ah, young lady, do they?’

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact they do, sir,’ Angel said, tentatively.

  ‘Oh, wonderful, wonderful,’ said the attorney general, rising from his chair and coming across the room. He thrust two pieces of pasteboard into Frank Angel’s hand, a broad smile spreading across his face.

  ‘Wife and I can’t use these,’ he said. ‘So you take them. Take your young lady. She’ll enjoy it. You’ll both enjoy it.’

  ‘Well, thank you, sir,’ Angel said, taking the tickets. ‘What are they for?’ Amabel Rowe was watching expectantly from her desk, a suppressed smile pressing a dimple into her right cheek.

  ‘What for?’ the attorney general said. ‘Why—to see the Freedom Train! What else?’

  He looked at Angel and Angel looked at him and then they started to grin and then the laughter came and then they were howling with laughter, roaring with it. After a little while, Amabel Rowe joined in.

  It looked like it might be a halfway decent Christmas.

  The Angel Series:

  Find Angel!

  Send Angel!

  Trap Angel!

  Hang Angel!

  Hunt Angel!

  Kill Angel!

  Frame Angel!

  Stop Angel!

  Warn Angel!

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