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    "Brass" Bannem Bashes The Commies
    "Brass" Bannem Bashes The Commies
    "Brass" Bannem Bashes The Commies
    Ebook36 pages31 minutes

    "Brass" Bannem Bashes The Commies

    By Stanley Bruce Carter

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Straight out of the Cold War comes this hard-hitting tale about a hard-fisted, hard-nosed private eye who bashes commies and saves America -- the land of the free and the home of the hard!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStanley Bruce Carter
    Release dateJan 21, 2017
    ISBN9781370051281
    "Brass" Bannem Bashes The Commies
    Author

    Stanley Bruce Carter

    Stan Carter lives in Bellevue, Nebraska. He has been in the newspaper business for nearly 30 years, serving as a reporter, copy editor, columnist, typesetter and paginator at various publications. He is the author of five novels published by Gypsy Shadow: "Petchy Maligula," "The Depraved Dances of Taram Zhod," "The Caskian Scandal," "The Extortions of Stiffani Voydalle" and "Kill My Husband."

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      Book preview

      "Brass" Bannem Bashes The Commies - Stanley Bruce Carter

      Brass Bannem Bashes The Commies

      By Stanley Bruce Carter

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2017 by Stanley Bruce Carter

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Brass Bannem drove his rock-hard fist into Nikita Moskvitch’s jaw and the commie spy sank to his knees, his neatly trimmed goatee quivering as his thin lips emitted a girlish whimper. The private eye stood over him, hands on hips, a nasty grin splitting his rough-hewn face, as raindrops pelted the brim of his fedora and dribbled onto the upturned collar of his London Fog trench coat.

      That hurt, Moskvitch whined, and Bannem resisted the urge to puke. Russian agents were tough as nails – once. But most of the old guard had retired or died and the new crop didn’t have the same moxie. Moskvitch was typical of the breed; he would’ve been better off in a ballet school, wearing a tutu and making like a sugar plum, instead of playing spy games with the big boys.

      Bannem bent down and grabbed the lapels of the pinko’s cheap, ill-fitting, made-in-Moscow raincoat and hauled him to his feet. Moskvitch tried to pull away but Bannem yanked him close, his Marlboro breath gusting into the enemy agent’s weaselly face.

      OK, Nick, Bannem said. Tell me about the microchip.

      My name’s not Nick, the wincing Red said through clenched teeth. It’s Pete.

      Bullshit. You’re Nikita Moskvitch of the KGB. Don’t try to deny it. I can smell a commie a mile away.

      My name is Pete Johnson and I sell postal meters.

      They’re called ‘postage meters,’ and I don’t wanna hear your cover story. You know where that microchip is and I want it.

      You’ve mistaken my identity. Let me show you my credentials.

      He started to slip a hand inside his raincoat. Bannem slapped it away.

      I was just reaching for my wallet, Moskvitch said.

      I’ll do it.

      The private eye patted him down, removed his wallet, shoved the commie away from him and inspected his credentials – business card, driver’s license, Social Security card...

      These are fakes, Bannem said. "My ten-year-old nephew could

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