Free Bare Trap by Frank Kane Page B

could to keep out of the way of Maxie’s paralyzing right, Liddell stepped on the lamp wire, slipped. The big man grinned, moved in, threw the right. It landed a few inches too high to do the full job, but carried enough steam to knock Liddell flat on his back.
    Thinking the detective was helpless, Maxie moved in for the kill. As soon as he was within range, Liddell lashed out with his heels, sank them in the big man’s groin. Maxie’s eyes rolled back, saliva drooling down his chin.Liddell struggled to his feet, put everything he had behind a right smash to the big man’s ear. He hit the floor like a felled ox.
    Liddell stood swaying over him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
    “I have an idea Maxie isn’t going to like you, Liddell,” Duke told him. He walked over to where Maxie lay, stirred him with the tip of a small, pointed toe. The big man groaned, opened bloodshot eyes, stared up blankly. He shook his head, wiped the red smear that was his mouth with the side of his hand, and stared at the blood on his hand dazedly. He tried to pull himself to his feet, gasped at the pain in his groin, and tumbled over on his face with a moan.
    The little man stared down at him coldly, stirred him again with his toe, got a groan for his trouble. Without taking his gun off Liddell, he walked over to the chest of drawers, picked up the water carafe, walked back to the man on the floor, emptied its contents over his head.
    Liddell waited for the little man’s attention to be diverted, had almost given up hope when a sharp rapping on the corridor door made Duke’s attention wander for a moment.
    Liddell had no time to weigh the consequences. He threw his entire 186 pounds at the small man in a desperate flying tackle.
    He never even saw the blow that floored him. The barrel of the .45 couldn’t have moved more than six inches when it caught him a vicious chop across the temple that sent white-hot flashes through his skull. He managed to wrap his arms around a pair of legs but had no power to hold them. There was another chop, and a new stream of white-hot pain went through his head.
    The pounding on the door was thunderous. He tried to push himself to his knees. The floor tilted sickeningly. Liddell slid forward on his face, relaxed, and was content to slide into a black void that erased the white-hot flashes and searing pain from his skull.

CHAPTER NINE
    J OHNNY L IDDELL GROANED AUDIBLY as consciousness seared its way back into his brain. He tried to open his eyes, regretted the impulse. A pain that shot through his head, lighting up the dark corners of his skull with blinding brilliance, discouraged too much movement. After a second unsuccessful try, he managed to get the eyes open, but experienced new difficulty in keeping them from rolling back into his head.
    A man was bending over him, gun in hand. Liddell tried to struggle to his feet, but the man pushed him back gently. “Take it easy, Mr. Liddell. You’ll be all right in a minute.”
    Liddell shook off the man’s restraining hand. “Who’re you?” he managed to croak. His voice seemed to rise and fall in volume, setting the sensitive nerves jangling again.
    “House officer. We had complaints from the room below. Came up to check. I got no answer to my knocks so I sent for the key.” He looked around the room. “What happened here?”
    “Nobody here when you came in?”
    “Just you on the floor. Who was it?”
    Liddell felt the side of his head gingerly and winced. “Sneak thieves, I guess. I walked in on them, and one of them dropped me before I could get a good look.”
    The houseman frowned his doubts, stared at the damage. “I guess I put up a bit of a fight,” Liddell added. “I don’t remember much after he hit me the first time.”
    “Did they get anything?”
    Liddell shook his head, regretted the impulse. He felt for his gun, swore under his breath. “They walked off with my gun,” he growled. “The big guy stuck it in his