Union Bust td-7 Read online

Page 3


  "Dead, sir." Thurgood and the man in the cowboy hat were obviously talking across the hallway.

  "Come out, come out, wherever you are," sang Remo.

  "Who is he?" asked Thurgood.

  "Your friendly neighbourhood assassin," Remo called out.

  "The man is mad."

  Remo eased down the hallway and spotted a door that moved ever so slightly, like a tremble. The cowboy hadn't entered that door. Thurgood was behind it. Nice. The door was slightly ajar, just a sliver open. Remo, silent, moved against the wall, out of the line of vision afforded by the crack between door and jamb. When he neared the door, he reached a hand far from his body and knocked quickly. Twice.

  Two slugs tore through the door and thudded into the wall across the hall, clipping a grapefruit-sized hole in the plaster. Nice pattern.

  "Affjh," called out Remo, collapsing to the floor with a thud. He stuck out his tongue crazily and rolled his eyeballs back into his head so that only the whites would show. He heard the door near him open.

  "I got him," said Thurgood. Steps, perhaps twenty yards away and coming close. Something hard, metallic, against his temple. Pushing. Rifle barrel. Too much weight for a pistol. Smell of shoe leather. One has remnant of cow dung. Floor cold on back. One standing over the right shoulder. Other standing near hip. Hand on chest. One kneeling. Pressure.

  "Still breathing, but faintly. Nice shot, sir."

  "Where did I get him?"

  "I don't know. I don't see the bullet hole. What'll we tell the sheriff, Mr. Thurgood?"

  "That I shot an intruder, of course. What did you expect me to say?"

  "He's got something in his hand." Remo felt his fingers unfolded and the two plastic packages of heroin being removed. "It's horse. Yeah. Looks like the powder. It is."

  "Dammit."

  "Maybe we could say he brought it, Mr. Thurgood. That's the truth."

  "No. Flush it down the toilet."

  "It's thirty grand worth, at least."

  "Flush it. I'm an investment banker, you ninny."

  "Yessir."

  Remo felt the gun barrel tremble slightly. He could wait no longer. Up came his right thumb, deflecting the barrel as a shot chipped into the stone floor. Following through on the hand motion, his body rose in a single smooth flow. His left hand, whipping like an un-sprung car aerial, caught the fine face of Tucson's leading businessman flat. Like a shot. Splat.

  "Ugh," said Thurgood in shock.

  Spinning through the blow, Remo brought an elbow up and around to where the cowboy should have been. He was. The elbow caught the armpit, separating the shoulder and driving into the collarbone. The collarbone cracked. The cowboy, ten-gallon hat and cow-manure shoes, went forlornly into the wall and collapsed in pain.

  Remo checked the hallway. Clean. He turned to Thurgood.

  "Regards from the turned-on generation, sweetheart," said Remo, as two fingers of his right hand drove the testicles of James Thurgood, leading Tucson citizen and heroin financier, into the lungs. On their way, they took a good portion of the intestinal tract, some of which now gushed in a bloody flood from the mouth of the man the courts could not touch. Thurgood lurched forward to spend the last twenty seconds of his life in awesome agony.

  The cowboy would live.

  "Ooooh," he groaned.

  Remo looked around the hall. Where were the bags of heroin? He lifted up the cowboy who emitted a shriek. There they were. Remo knocked the cowboy into them. He waited for the cowboy to regain some clarity of mind. Then he pushed the bags of heroin under the cowboy's nose.

  "I think you'll want to get this cleaned up before you phone the sheriff," said Remo. One bag had been torn open. Remo opened the second also. In full view of the cowboy, he sprinkled the white powder along the Thurgood hallway until now unsullied by its touch.

  For final measure, Remo sprinkled the last of the heroin over the Thurgood living room, grinding it into the deep pile rug with his heels. He flipped the empty plastic bags to a sofa and strolled to the door.

  "So long, shitkicker," he called out to the cowboy and left the X-shaped fortress which had, after all, only one serious flaw in its defence.

  It was a pleasant, dry, invigorating day, on which a man could whistle to his heart's content, and the stroll back to Tucson was enjoyable. By the time he reached the city limits, Remo had worked up a thirst. He dropped into a hamburger stand for a cola and 'two with everything, to go. Thanks."

  While waiting for the burgers, he briefly reviewed his morning's reading on collective bargaining. Something big was going to come off in Chicago. And somehow it had to do with the union movement. That was all Upstairs had said.

  Remo added an extra dose of ketchup to his hamburgers and consumed them almost in four bites, washing them down with large draughts of the dark, sweet cola.

  As he wiped his mouth a strange thing happened. Numbness crept up his arms into his neck, immobilizing his face. He heard a woman shriek, and as the hamburger stand whirled crazily above him, everything became very black.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Welcome, International Brotherhood of Drivers."

  The banner floated over the quiet convention hall, catching vagrant indoor breezes. Two men stood by the speaker's podium, one watching the banner, the other nervously watching him.

  In three hours, the rows upon rows of silent, darkened seats would be filled with cheering, clapping men, big men, strong men, men who could handle the monster tractor trailers and men who could handle those men. It would be a big convention. It always was, and this year Chicago had won over Miami or Las Vegas.

  They were big spenders, these union delegates, and it was not the least of surprises that just two months before the convention, it had been switched from the big spending towns to a Midwest city. Many of the delegates were angry about that. They knew who was behind it.

  Neither their anger nor the nervousness of his number-two man bothered the president of Local 873, Nashville, Tennessee, that morning. He was absorbed in air currents.

  "I wonder where those breezes come from," said Eugene Jethro. "I wonder if some internal force we know nothing about is blowing that banner." He was a young man, in his mid-twenties, and his long golden locks flowed to the shoulders of his green velvet suit. He was too young to be president of a driver local, they said. Too mod to be president of a driver local, they said. Too fresh to be president of a driver local, they said. But here he was, and his name would be entered for the presidency of the International Brotherhood of Drivers.

  "What do you care about banners, Gene? In three hours this convention opens and we're gonna get eaten alive," said the vice-president of Local 873, Nashville. He was Sigmund Negronski, a burly, squat man with forearms like bowling pins. "We gotta win the election, or we're gonna do time."

  Gene Jethro put a hand to his chin. His face screwed into deep thought.

  "I wonder if just thinking about it can make that banner blow one way or another? The discipline of the mind over the essence of matter."

  "Gene. Will you get off it? We gotta work some more strategy."

  "It's been worked."

  "I'm scared. Will you listen to me. I'm scared. We spent money we didn't have. We made deals we can't keep. We've made commitments with some very rough people. If you don't win the presidency, we'll do time. If we're lucky."

  "Luck has nothing to do with it, Siggy," said Jethro. He smiled the now famous Gene Jethro smile, a boyish open grin the media had quickly taken a liking to and other driver officers had resented. It was too Kennedyish. It was too political. They were tough men, these drivers, and worked hard for their money. They distrusted flamboyance as much as eloquence. And Gene Jethro had both. In just three months he had risen dramatically to become a national power in the brotherhood. He had this mysterious ability to get done whatever had to be done.

  An indictment against a driver official in Burbank, California? Phone Jethro in Tennessee. He could get it quashed in hours.

 
A dispute over loansharking at a terminal? Somehow this young kid from Appalachia could settle it. Passport trouble of a friend? Get Gene Jethro.

  "I don't know what the kid's got, but he's got it." was the common refrain among driver officials. "Of course he's still too young for anything big."

  Jethro beckoned his vice-president to the podium.

  "Here it is," he said. "Imagine the hall with 3,000 delegates. Screaming. Applauding. And I'm here, and I've got them in the palm of my hand. And with them, the next step."

  "There's another step, Gene?"

  "There's always another step."

  "How about the one at hand? How about the presidency? If we don't get it, we're going to jail. We built that building with funds from the international. Now we don't have that kind of money."

  "You think I don't know that you dear, sweet, dumb Polack."

  "Hey, lay off that. You know, Gene, you used to be a nice kid. You used to be a comer. I could see you making it in twenty years, making it big. People liked you. But in the last three months, I don't know what's happened to you? You gave up a sweet girl for that broad who hardly wears clothes. You moved out of your apartment into a split level job with a swimming pool. You talk funny now, you think funny now, and I'm beginning not to know you."

  "You never knew me, dumbo," said Jethro.

  "Well, then, you're going to jail alone."

  "We, Siggy. We."

  "We nothing, Gene. You. All I did was step down as president of the local so you could take over."

  "Is that all, Siggy?"

  "Well, my daughter got that kidney machine and don't think I'm not grateful."

  "Is that all, Siggy?"

  "Well, we got the porch and the new car and I have bread for my girl friend's place."

  "Is that all, Siggy?"

  "Well, uh, yeah. That's all. It's enough. Don't get me wrong. But it ain't enough to go to jail for."

  Jethro stuffed his hands into the pockets of his green bell-bottoms. He spun to the dead microphone and boomed to a nonexistent audience.

  "Fellow drivers and delegates to the 85111 Annual Convention of the International Brotherhood of Drivers, I give you my local vice-president. He is a loyal man. He is a man who will stand with you through thick and thin, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. And I will tell you why he will stand with you."

  "Aw, come off it, will you Gene?"

  "I will tell you why he will stand with you. He has the best of all reasons to stand with you."

  "C'mon, Gene."

  "Because he doesn't want to be a puddle."

  Blood drained from the face of Sigmund Negronski. His lips became dry. He looked nervously around the empty auditorium.

  "You really like to hurt," said Negronski.

  "I love it."

  "You never used to be like this. What happened?"

  "I got a swimming pool, a Jaguar, a mistress, a manservant, and enough power to make this union jump. And some day, in the not too distant future, I'm gonna make the country jump. Jump like you jump, you dumb, pathetic, fat Polack."

  Sigmund Negronski stood in sullen silence. He had brought this kid along from driver to shop steward to business agent. And then just three months ago the kid had started to change. Nothing you would notice right away, just more relaxed, then smooth, then vicious. What bothered Negronski was that when this kid smiled, Negronski still liked him, although he knew he should hate him for the indignities he inflicted on the older man. He should flatten this arrogant kid like a tomato under a U-Haul-It. But he still liked him. And that rasped to the very marrow of his bones.

  Negronski looked at the dead microphone and then at Jethro.

  "We just better win this thing tomorrow," said Negronski.

  The sounds of striding men echoed through the convention hall—heavy men with heavy footsteps, marching almost in unison. Negronski peered out into the darkness over the rows of empty seats, into the large, dark, disinfectant-smelling auditorium.

  "Jethro, you sonuvabitch, I'm here, you little twirp, and today is the day you get yours." The voice was deep and harsh and echoed the wide Boston 'A." It was Anthony McCulloch, president of Local 73, Boston. And it looked as if he had brought his delegates with him. Big men, burly men, they advanced like the Green Bay Packers line going out to lunch.

  McCulloch himself stood six-feet-five, and Negronski knew that he weighed 320 pounds because at last year's convention they had all weighed themselves on a freight scale after a round of drinking and a round of betting. McCulloch had claimed he could guess anyone's weight within five pounds. And he had.

  McCulloch, despite his friendliness when he drank, was a power in Eastern union politics, and a man Jethro would need if he ever hoped to get close enough to sell the presidency of the international.

  "Hello, Siggy," said McCulloch. "Who's your faggy friend?"

  "Hi, Tony," said Nebronski.

  "Well, well. Anthony McCulloch. Thank you for coming," said Jethro.

  "I didn't come here to promise you my support. I came here to tell you that a group of us here found out about that building outside the city."

  Jethro smiled. "Ah, Anthony, Anthony," he sighed. "Why must you do everything I figure you will do? Why aren't you some real competition for me?"

  McCulloch looked up to the speaker's platform, then back at the men following him. Negronski recognized three presidents, two joint council presidents and five business agents with the rep as good muscle. They all thought this remark by Jethro was rather puzzling. If it had been a threat, they would have laughed in his face, Negronski knew. But his arrogance was only confusing. They obviously did not think of him as a threat.

  "Kid," said McCulloch. "You may claim some kind of mental disorder before some judge, but we don't buy that plea. You stole union money, promised union money, our money, to put up some kind of a building outside this city. Without the okay of the council. Without even the written okay of the treasurer of the international, you committed us to millions. Millions, we still don't know how much. Our accountants are checking it out."

  "You spoke to the treasurer?" asked Jethro sweetly.

  "Yeah. We spoke," said McCulloch.

  "And how is he?"

  "He'll be walking again by maybe fall. Which is more than we can say for you. You're looking at some people you can't buy, kid. You're looking at people you can't deal for. We've had you, boy. We're gonna run your ass the hell out of the brotherhood."

  Little sounds of "tell 'em," "you said it," "sock it to him," could be heard from the group. The convention hall was chilly, waiting for the multitude of warming bodies, but Negronski felt perspiration form on his forehead. He wiped it off. His lips were dry again, and he did not know what to do with his hands.

  "You part of this, Siggy?" asked McCulloch.

  Negronski looked down at his shoes, back up to McCulloch, and then to Jethro, who lounged against the microphone like a rock singer. Negronski looked back down at his shoes.

  "You part of this thing, Siggy?" McCulloch asked again.

  Negronski mumbled an answer.

  "I didn't hear you," McCulloch said, "You can still get off the hook, Siggy. We know you're okay."

  "I'm part of this thing," said Negronski softly.

  "What?" asked McCulloch…

  "I'm part of it. I'm part of it," yelled Negronski.

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Siggy," said McCulloch. "Sorry for you."

  Jethro laughed and fondled the microphone head.

  "You want to see where your money went?" he asked tauntingly.

  "This pineapple is not to be believed," said McCulloch to his men. "And he wants to be president of the international." The McCulloch people laughed.

  They stopped laughing forty minutes later when their Cadillacs drove up Nuihc Street, and they saw the building, glistening aluminium spires reaching into a cloudless blue sky. Green sun-windows a story and a half each. Shiny bronze arches over the windows reflecting the sun like daylight
torches. They gasped at its beauty.

  Even Rocco 'the Pig' Pigarello, business agent for Local 1287, Union City, New Jersey, one of the roughest locals in the country where no local president ever left office on his feet, could not contain himself.

  "It's byoootiful," he said. "Real byootiful."

  "You guys ought to like it. You paid for it. Triple what it would have cost if it had been put up in a reasonable time."

  "Byootiful," said the Pig.

  "We need it like we need leukaemia. What do we need it for? It's our money and we don't need it.' McCulloch said.

  "Yeah, we don't need it," said the Pig. "It's byootiful."

  "That's just the outside. Wait until you see the inside," said Jethro. And the New England representatives became the first union delegates to view the inside of the building on Nuihc Street.

  Rocco 'the Pig' Pigarello emitted 147 more 'byootifuls." This was known because Timmy Ryan, Joe Wolcyz and Prat Connor kept count.

  "You say 'byootiful' once more, Pig, and you're going to be saying it without teeth," said Connor.

  "Yeah," said the Pig. "And you're gonna be hearing it without a head."

  "Hold it. Hold it. Don't fight," said McCulloch. 'We got the pineapple to deal with first."

  Siggy Negronski, secreted a lead pipe under his jacket. It looked like the end of the line.

  "You want to see me all at once in my office, or one at a time?" said Jethro.

  "I'll see you first. There won't be any need for anyone else. Pig, Prat, Timmy, you guys, keep an eye on Siggy," said McCulloch.

  "We'll take the elevator to my office," said Jethro.

  "We'll settle it right here," said McCulloch.

  "My office is the biggest surprise," said Jethro.

  "Let's see the office," said the Pig. "What would it hurt to see the office?"

  McCulloch shot Pigarello a dirty look. "All right. We will go to the byootiful office." His men laughed.

  Nine driver officials in an elevator meant to hold a dozen normal-sized people was like packing a small hat box with a fifteen-pound ham. Negronski's hidden lead pipe was discovered immediately by feel. It was brought out from under his jacket rather roughly, taking a piece of his jaw with it. The blood trickled down his neck and onto the shirt of his assailant. Negronski said nothing. It was all over.

 

    Acid Rock Read onlineAcid RockKill or Cure Read onlineKill or CureDeath Therapy Read onlineDeath TherapyChinese Puzzle Read onlineChinese PuzzleMafia Fix Read onlineMafia FixMurder Ward Read onlineMurder WardBrain Drain Read onlineBrain DrainSweet Dreams Read onlineSweet DreamsKing's Curse Read onlineKing's CurseSlave Safari Read onlineSlave SafariOil Slick Read onlineOil SlickUnion Bust Read onlineUnion BustDeadly Seeds Read onlineDeadly SeedsHoly Terror Read onlineHoly TerrorMurder's Shield Read onlineMurder's ShieldSummit Chase Read onlineSummit ChaseThe End of the Game td-60 Read onlineThe End of the Game td-60Death Check Read onlineDeath CheckDeadly Seeds td-21 Read onlineDeadly Seeds td-21Union Bust td-7 Read onlineUnion Bust td-7Shock Value td-51 Read onlineShock Value td-51Ghost in the Machine td-90 Read onlineGhost in the Machine td-90Date with Death td-57 Read onlineDate with Death td-57Fool's Flight (Digger) Read onlineFool's Flight (Digger)Infernal Revenue td-96 Read onlineInfernal Revenue td-96Brain Storm Read onlineBrain StormCoin of the Realm td-77 Read onlineCoin of the Realm td-77The Empire Dreams td-113 Read onlineThe Empire Dreams td-113Walking Wounded td-74 Read onlineWalking Wounded td-74Blood Lust td-85 Read onlineBlood Lust td-85Fool's Gold Read onlineFool's GoldMarket Force td-127 Read onlineMarket Force td-127Lucifer's Weekend (Digger) Read onlineLucifer's Weekend (Digger)Firing Line td-41 Read onlineFiring Line td-41Blood Ties td-69 Read onlineBlood Ties td-69Time Trial td-53 Read onlineTime Trial td-53Next Of Kin td-46 Read onlineNext Of Kin td-46When Elephants Forget (Trace 3) Read onlineWhen Elephants Forget (Trace 3)Feeding Frenzy td-94 Read onlineFeeding Frenzy td-94Holy Terror td-19 Read onlineHoly Terror td-19Power Play td-36 Read onlinePower Play td-36The Wrong Stuff td-125 Read onlineThe Wrong Stuff td-125Spoils Of War td-45 Read onlineSpoils Of War td-45Timber Line td-42 Read onlineTimber Line td-42Lost Yesterday td-65 Read onlineLost Yesterday td-65By Eminent Domain td-124 Read onlineBy Eminent Domain td-124The Ultimate Death td-88 Read onlineThe Ultimate Death td-88A Pound of Prevention td-121 Read onlineA Pound of Prevention td-121Dead Letter (Digger) Read onlineDead Letter (Digger)Terror Squad Read onlineTerror SquadBottom Line td-37 Read onlineBottom Line td-37Created, the Destroyer td-1 Read onlineCreated, the Destroyer td-1Ground Zero td-84 Read onlineGround Zero td-84Murder's Shield td-9 Read onlineMurder's Shield td-9Encounter Group td-56 Read onlineEncounter Group td-56The Last Alchemist td-64 Read onlineThe Last Alchemist td-64Shooting Schedule td-79 Read onlineShooting Schedule td-79Troubled Waters td-133 Read onlineTroubled Waters td-133Voodoo Die td-33 Read onlineVoodoo Die td-33Killing Time td-50 Read onlineKilling Time td-50Kill Or Cure td-11 Read onlineKill Or Cure td-11Profit Motive td-48 Read onlineProfit Motive td-48Fade to Black td-119 Read onlineFade to Black td-119Disloyal Opposition td-123 Read onlineDisloyal Opposition td-123Oil Slick td-16 Read onlineOil Slick td-16Look Into My Eyes td-67 Read onlineLook Into My Eyes td-67Last Call td-35 Read onlineLast Call td-35High Priestess td-95 Read onlineHigh Priestess td-95Death Sentence td-80 Read onlineDeath Sentence td-80Brain Drain td-22 Read onlineBrain Drain td-22Child's Play td-23 Read onlineChild's Play td-23An Old Fashioned War td-68 Read onlineAn Old Fashioned War td-68Wolf's Bane td-132 Read onlineWolf's Bane td-132Smoked Out (Digger) Read onlineSmoked Out (Digger)Acid Rock td-13 Read onlineAcid Rock td-13Ship Of Death td-28 Read onlineShip Of Death td-28Mugger Blood td-30 Read onlineMugger Blood td-30Sue Me td-66 Read onlineSue Me td-66Rain of Terror td-75 Read onlineRain of Terror td-75Cold Warrior td-91 Read onlineCold Warrior td-91Syndication Rites td-122 Read onlineSyndication Rites td-122Mob Psychology td-87 Read onlineMob Psychology td-87Bloody Tourists td-134 Read onlineBloody Tourists td-134Death Therapy td-6 Read onlineDeath Therapy td-6Mafia Fix td-4 Read onlineMafia Fix td-4Hostile Takeover td-81 Read onlineHostile Takeover td-81Killer Chromosomes td-32 Read onlineKiller Chromosomes td-32King's Curse td-24 Read onlineKing's Curse td-24Last Rites td-100 Read onlineLast Rites td-100Bidding War td-101 Read onlineBidding War td-101Angry White Mailmen td-104 Read onlineAngry White Mailmen td-104The Head Men td-31 Read onlineThe Head Men td-31Political Pressure td-135 Read onlinePolitical Pressure td-135Once a Mutt (Trace 5) Read onlineOnce a Mutt (Trace 5)In Enemy Hands td-26 Read onlineIn Enemy Hands td-26Remo The Adventure Begins Read onlineRemo The Adventure BeginsLast War Dance td-17 Read onlineLast War Dance td-17Misfortune Teller td-115 Read onlineMisfortune Teller td-115Skin Deep td-49 Read onlineSkin Deep td-49Unite and Conquer td-102 Read onlineUnite and Conquer td-102Murder Ward td-15 Read onlineMurder Ward td-15Dangerous Games td-40 Read onlineDangerous Games td-40Created, the Destroyer Read onlineCreated, the DestroyerThe Final Crusade td-76 Read onlineThe Final Crusade td-76Summit Chase td-8 Read onlineSummit Chase td-8The Final Reel td-116 Read onlineThe Final Reel td-116Dying Space td-47 Read onlineDying Space td-47Assassins Play Off td-20 Read onlineAssassins Play Off td-20Pigs Get Fat (Trace 4) Read onlinePigs Get Fat (Trace 4)And 47 Miles of Rope (Trace 2) Read onlineAnd 47 Miles of Rope (Trace 2)Bloodline: A Novel Read onlineBloodline: A NovelUnnatural Selection td-131 Read onlineUnnatural Selection td-131Judgment Day td-14 Read onlineJudgment Day td-14Line of Succession td-73 Read onlineLine of Succession td-73Midnight Man td-43 Read onlineMidnight Man td-43The Last Dragon td-92 Read onlineThe Last Dragon td-92Total Recall td-58 Read onlineTotal Recall td-58Balance Of Power td-44 Read onlineBalance Of Power td-44Sole Survivor td-72 Read onlineSole Survivor td-72The Sky is Falling td-63 Read onlineThe Sky is Falling td-63Survival Course td-82 Read onlineSurvival Course td-82Death Check td-2 Read onlineDeath Check td-2The Seventh Stone td-62 Read onlineThe Seventh Stone td-62Deadly Genes td-117 Read onlineDeadly Genes td-117American Obsession td-109 Read onlineAmerican Obsession td-109Slave Safari td-12 Read onlineSlave Safari td-12Bay City Blast td-38 Read onlineBay City Blast td-38Sweet Dreams td-25 Read onlineSweet Dreams td-25Feast or Famine td-107 Read onlineFeast or Famine td-107Chinese Puzzle td-3 Read onlineChinese Puzzle td-3Chained Reaction td-34 Read onlineChained Reaction td-34The Final Death td-29 Read onlineThe Final Death td-29Brain Storm td-112 Read onlineBrain Storm td-112Getting Up With Fleas (Trace 7) Read onlineGetting Up With Fleas (Trace 7)Father to Son td-129 Read onlineFather to Son td-129Dr Quake td-5 Read onlineDr Quake td-5Lords of the Earth td-61 Read onlineLords of the Earth td-61Trace (Trace 1) Read onlineTrace (Trace 1)The Color of Fear td-99 Read onlineThe Color of Fear td-99The Last Monarch td-120 Read onlineThe Last Monarch td-120The Eleventh Hour td-70 Read onlineThe Eleventh Hour td-70Engines of Destruction td-103 Read onlineEngines of Destruction td-103The Arms of Kali td-59 Read onlineThe Arms of Kali td-59Killer Watts td-118 Read onlineKiller Watts td-118Terror Squad td-10 Read onlineTerror Squad td-10Target of Opportunity td-98 Read onlineTarget of Opportunity td-98Arabian Nightmare td-86 Read onlineArabian Nightmare td-86Waste Not, Want Not td-130 Read onlineWaste Not, Want Not td-130White Water td-106 Read onlineWhite Water td-106Dark Horse td-89 Read onlineDark Horse td-89Return Engagement td-71 Read onlineReturn Engagement td-71Last Drop td-54 Read onlineLast Drop td-54Prophet Of Doom td-111 Read onlineProphet Of Doom td-111Blue Smoke and Mirrors td-78 Read onlineBlue Smoke and Mirrors td-78Air Raid td-126 Read onlineAir Raid td-126Failing Marks td-114 Read onlineFailing Marks td-114Bamboo Dragon td-108 Read onlineBamboo Dragon td-108Terminal Transmission td-93 Read onlineTerminal Transmission td-93The Last Temple td-27 Read onlineThe Last Temple td-27Identity Crisis td-97 Read onlineIdentity Crisis td-97Funny Money td-18 Read onlineFunny Money td-18Master's Challenge td-55 Read onlineMaster's Challenge td-55