Free The Loner: Trail Of Blood by J.A. Johnstone Page B

see that in this sanitarium, my word is law!”
    The doors behind Conrad burst open. In answer to Futrelle’s summons, three big, heavily-muscled orderlies rushed in, obviously ready for trouble.
    Futrelle pointed at Conrad and ordered, “Grab this man! He’s unstable and needs to be locked up!”

Chapter 11
     
    Conrad instantly grasped what Futrelle was trying to do. The doctor didn’t want any kind of scandal to threaten his lucrative business. By claiming Conrad was insane, Futrelle could get away with locking him up and keeping him a prisoner in the sanitarium, perhaps forever. He knew Conrad no longer had any relatives in Boston to dispute the claim.
    As he whirled around to face the three orderlies, Conrad was aware he was fighting not only for his freedom but for his very life. Once he was a “patient” there, it would be easy for Futrelle to dispose of him without anyone knowing about it.
    As the orderlies lunged at him, Conrad’s hands flashed underneath his coat and came out filled with the Lightnings. “Stay where you are!”
    The men came to awkward, skidding halts as they looked down the barrels of those revolvers.
    Conrad heard movement behind him and looked around. Futrelle was coming at him, swinging a heavy glass ashtray he had snatched up fromthe desk. The doctor had quite a bit of strength in his short, stocky body, and smashed the ashtray against the side of Conrad’s head with stunning force. He went down on one knee.
    One of the orderlies leaped forward and grabbed his right arm, wrenching the gun aside. Another man went for his left arm. Pain shot through Conrad’s shoulder as the orderly tried to twist the arm out of its socket. The third orderly closed in from the front.
    The way the three of them moved in tandem told Conrad they had plenty of experience at dealing with violent patients. Unless he broke free quickly, they would overpower him and all would be lost.
    He would never find his children.
    He let his weight sag so the two men who had seized him were holding him up. Pulling both legs up, he snapped them out in a savage double kick that sunk the heels of his boots deep into the belly of the third orderly. The man grunted in pain, doubled over, and blundered right into his companion who was holding Conrad’s right arm.
    That loosened the man’s grip enough for Conrad to pull free. He twisted his body and hooked a foot behind the knee of the man holding his left arm. A quick jerk upset that man, and suddenly everyone in the office was on the floor except for Dr. Futrelle, who danced around nervously, still holding the ashtray as if he wanted to hit Conrad with it again.
    Conrad surged to his knees. One of the orderlies tried to grapple with him again. From thecorner of his eye, Conrad saw Futrelle rush in and swing the ashtray at him. He jerked his head aside. Futrelle’s momentum carried him forward, and the blow smashed into the orderly’s face, crushing the man’s nose and shattering cheek bones. Blood spurted as the orderly howled in pain and fell backward, clutching at his ruined face.
    The man Conrad had kicked in the stomach was lying curled up on his side, mewling in agony at the damage done to his gut. The one with the broken nose was hurting too much to worry about anything else. That left just one orderly and Dr. Futrelle for Conrad to deal with.
    He rolled to his feet and realized he still had the guns in his hands. As the remaining orderly tried to scramble up, Conrad pointed one of the Lightnings at his face and said, “Don’t.” He leveled the other .38 at Futrelle, who had backed off and stood against one of the bookshelves, his face pale and his chest heaving with fear.
    “Don’t … don’t shoot me!” the doctor babbled. “Please, don’t kill me! I … I’m sorry about the children!”
    “I reckon you’ve figured out by now that I don’t have a whole lot left to lose, Doc.” Conrad didn’t realize until later how much that sounded like something