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    The New Adventures of Richard Knight, Volume 2: Race With Hell!
    The New Adventures of Richard Knight, Volume 2: Race With Hell!
    The New Adventures of Richard Knight, Volume 2: Race With Hell!
    Ebook144 pages2 hours

    The New Adventures of Richard Knight, Volume 2: Race With Hell!

    By I.A. Watson

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    About this ebook

    Richard Knight is a man who wears two faces. One, a rich playboy who travels in the circle of high society, the other an ace pilot and spy known only as Q. With his trusted aide Larry Doyle, his superior officer General Brett, and the lovely Benita Navarre, Knight tackles strange cases in a world of scientific menace and weird adventure.

    From the Shadows of the Past Flies One of Pulp’s Greatest Aviator Heroes! Pro Se Productions in conjunction with Altus Press presents a new volume in its PULP OBSCURA line! Bringing Adventures and Heroes lost in Yesterday Blazing to Life in New Pulp Tales Today!

    RACE WITH HELL!

    A 10,000 mile air race over the most dangerous environments on the planet.

    31 of the world’s most daring pilots – before the killings start.

    An ancient evil awoken from its tomb to wreak ancient revenge on the living.

    Detective airman Richard Knight targeted for death.

    Can the man called Q prevent mass murder before the globe is plunged into chaos and war?

    A brand new digest novel featuring Donald E. Keyhoe’s classic flying secret agent from award winning pulp author I. A. Watson takes Richard Knight on a RACE WITH HELL!

    THE NEW ADVENTURES OF RICHARD KNIGHT VOLUME TWO! From Pulp Obscura and Pro Se Productions.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPro Se Press
    Release dateJan 15, 2015
    The New Adventures of Richard Knight, Volume 2: Race With Hell!

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      Book preview

      The New Adventures of Richard Knight, Volume 2 - I.A. Watson

      THE NEW ADVENTURES OF RICHARD KNIGHT, VOLUME TWO:

      RACE WITH HELL!

      by I.A. Watson

      Published by Pro Se Press

      Part of the PULP OBSCURA imprint

      This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters in this publication are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part or whole of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.

      The New Adventures of Richard Knight, Volume 2: Race With Hell!

      Copyright © 2015 I.A. Watson

      Stories are © 2015 their respective authors

      All rights reserved.

      Table of Contents

      Prologue

      CHAPTER ONE: THE FORTRESS AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

      CHAPTER TWO: A CHALLENGE TO ALL AIRMEN!

      CHAPTER THREE: THIS IS THE COMPETITION

      CHAPTER FOUR: GHOST TOWNS AND DEAD MEN

      CHAPTER FIVE: A RACE AGAINST MURDER

      CHAPTER SIX: THE HUNGRY CONTINENT

      CHAPTER SEVEN: THE KILLER AMONGST US

      CHAPTER EIGHT: THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH

      CHAPTER NINE: IN THE TEETH OF THE STORM

      CHAPTER TEN: THE CURSE OF LAMIA

      About the Author

      Prologue

      Fire in the hole!

      The thick fuse burned to nothing. Dynamite erupted in red destruction. Stonework undisturbed for countless centuries became spraying molten rock.

      It took some time for the dust and debris to settle, longer for the Nubian guides to shore up the damaged passageway to allow access beyond. At last the explorer was able to step onto finely-engraved floors that had not been trodden since before the time of Christ, to walk past artifacts hidden when Attic Greek was the language of the civilized world.

      Get lights in here! Set up lamps! Where are those damned experts? I want to know what I’m looking at—and for!

      You are looking for me.

      The explorer whirled round—and halted. The woman in the tomb was pale and thin, beautiful but unearthly. He thought he might know her. Then she was gone. She could only have come from his imagination—or else have hidden there now.

      Miss Renais! the explorer bellowed, summoning his assistant. Maigrette, what’s going on? I was told this funeral complex had been sealed since the Ptolemaic dynasty. We had to blast and quarry for months to get this far. Is there some other way in? Have I been beaten to it?

      The young woman who’d arranged the expedition moved forward, but she was different now. She was another person entirely.

      The explorer recognized her. He’d just seen her in the tomb. How did you get…?

      Quiet now, the beauty told him. "I’m out. I’m awake. After so long, I’m free. And I have so much to do."

      CHAPTER ONE: THE FORTRESS AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

      Richard Knight caught the man who leaped first and flipped him through the French window. The gunsel crashed through the leaded panes and came up hard on the stone balcony-railing of the upper terrace.

      Knight turned. He distracted the next goon with a hurled table-lamp, ducked under the guard’s gun, and applied a fast uppercut.

      The last thug held back in the doorway. He assessed the odds of tackling the fighting fury in the dark clothes and flying jacket and didn’t like his chances. He opted for the simple approach—he raised his Hotchkiss M1909 Benet-Mercie machine gun and simply sprayed the room.

      Knight tossed the downed guard as a missile at the chatter-gun wielder. The unfortunate gunsel was riddled with 8mm Lebel rounds, but his corpse smashed into his killer and dropped him. Knight was across the room planting a boot in the machine-gunner’s head before the final goon could rise.

      There were shouts from the corridor, harsh commands in Italian, and calls for reinforcements. Knight, the U.S. special agent codenamed Q, lifted a No. 5 Mills bomb grenade from his belt, flipped the pin, and rolled it out to join them.

      The explosion flashed down the expensively-decorated hall, turning men and artwork into shreds, bringing down part of the ornately-plastered roof. Knight busied himself emptying the files from the office desk into his knapsack. He was on the clock.

      More sounds from outside warned him of approach via the terrace. Someone found the tripwire he’d set along the approach—the hard way. A second explosion shattered the windows along the cliff side of the house and deterred immediate pursuit.

      The man called Q found what he’d been looking for in the bottom drawer, the keyring that included a complicated tag of many metals, a key with strips of alloys, each of a different electrical resistance. It fitted a lock that tested not only the shape of the object that turned its tumblers but also the resistivity of each tooth.

      Knight pocketed the ring and checked his watch. 0204 local time. Six minutes until the building went up. Knight’s partner, ex-Marine lieutenant Larry Doyle, would see to that. Timing was going to be tight.

      The hall was clear of hostiles—at least hostiles that weren’t shredded and plastered across the shrapnel-pocked walls. The cedar-wood paneling that disguised the steel cellar door had been blown away but the thick security frame behind it was barely scorched.

      Knight applied the complicated key to the sophisticated lock. Bolts turned back with a magneto-coil buzz. The door swung open.

      A steep narrow staircase led down below the cliff-top Sicilian mansion. Naked bulbs hung on twisted-pair wiring. There was an L-bend part-way down the flight—a perfect killing ground for an armed man below. Any sentry in the cellar would have to be deaf and drugged not to have heard the explosions above.

      Knight detached another hand grenade from his webbing. Bomba a mano! he shouted warning before sending the pineapple-shaped object bouncing down the stairs.

      He followed the Mills bomb close behind. After all he hadn’t pulled the pin, but any defender in the cellar below wouldn’t know that in the frantic seconds of diving for cover. The man called Q used those seconds to round the dangerous corner. By the time the pair of waiting armed guards had realized the grenade wasn’t going off he was in the doorway. Two precise shots dropped the sentries before they could rise.

      Knight checked the time again: 0206. He ignored the dead guards and made straight for the door on the opposite wall. Whatever deadly device was contained within had to be captured if possible. If it was too large to move before the villa was destroyed then Knight at least wanted to know what it was. The opportunity to understand what the international terror cartel known as The Four Faces was planning was too rare to miss.

      He shot out the lock and kicked the door open. A pair of children huddled in the cell beyond.

      Knight paused for three heartbeats. Then he said, "Come with me. Vieni con me."

      The boy and girl hesitated. They were perhaps ten and eight, with Mediterranean complexions, dressed in plain simple clothes that gave no clue to their origins. They clung together, frightened.

      Io vi aiuterò. I’m here to help you. Je vais vous aider.

      They responded to French. The boy hesitantly led his sister to their beckoning rescuer.

      Knight hoisted the girl in one arm, keeping the other free for his Colt M1911 A1. He gestured for the boy to follow close behind. Nous devons aller. Dépêchez.

      0208. Knight and Doyle hadn’t expected prisoners. The intel that had led them to the Sicilian cliff top villa called Bordo del Mondo had suggested some Four Faces weapon of mass destruction, not a pair of terrified children. The man called Q hastened away from the cellar with his unanticipated charges.

      Reinforcements had gathered in the shattered hall above. Knight deployed the same grenade he’d used on the stairs, but this time he kept the pin for himself. As soon as the blast had cleared the way he hastened into the gore-strewn vestibule. He was almost out of time.

      There was no chance to escape along the cleared route via the rear terrace. The front door was already blown open, one side hanging by a single hinge. Knight grabbed up both children and sprinted out, vaulting blazing furniture and dead men. A bullet spanged off a lintel close by his head. He kept on running.

      The front of the house opened onto a grand portico. A trio of fast Italian cars were lined up there. Knight bundled the boy and girl into a red Bugatti. Tenez-vous bien, he warned them. Really tightly!

      Another pair of pinstripe-suited gunmen emerged around the side of the villa. Knight found the Bugatti’s self-starter and revved the Type 43’s supercharge 2-litre engine. The manufacturer claimed a standing start to 60 mph in under twelve seconds; Knight proved it.

      He took the red roadster straight down the drive towards the main exit. Security was already scrambled there. Q guessed that they’d already have locked down the reinforcing bolts that would turn the metal bars of the fancy gate into a formidable barrier. Instead of wrecking the car in an attempt to crash the blockade he screeched into a bootlegger turn and accelerated again back down the road towards Bordo del Mondo. Pursuing gunsels dived aside as the crimson automobile blurred past.

      Knight swerved the Bugatti left, plowing up the perfect lawn. He aimed the car for the ornamental garden, demolishing a small fountain and a pair of fat cupids, then gunned it up the terrace steps to drive along the broad outer balcony where he’d previously deposited an ambitious guard.

      Machine-gun fire perforated the rear of the vehicle. The children squealed and ducked lower on the front bench-seat. A thug emerged from the sundered study office and dodged too slowly to avoid being clipped by the Bugatti’s offside wing.

      The far end of the terrace was broken, where Knight’s booby-trap had blown apart stonework and the men

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