Gabriel's Horn
Prague, Czech Republic
"He's going to catch fire when the motorcycle hits the back of the overturned car?" Annja Creed asked in disbelief.
"Yeah. But the real trick is when he catches fire." Barney Yellowtail calmly surveyed the wrecked cars in the middle of the narrow street between a line of four-story buildings that had seen far better days.
"When?" Annja asked, still trying to grasp the whole idea.
"When is important," Barney continued. He was in his late forties, twenty years older than Annja, and had been a stuntman for almost thirty years. "If Roy catches on fire too late, we've hosed the gag."
Gags, Annja had learned, were what stunt people called the death-defying feats they did almost on a daily basis.
"And if you hose the gag," Annja said, "you have to do it over and risk Roy's life again."
Barney grinned. He claimed to be full-blood Choctaw Indian from Oklahoma and looked it. His face was dark and seamed, creased by a couple of scars under his left eye and under his right jawline. He wore rimless glasses that darkened in the bright sunlight, and a straw cowboy hat. His jeans and chambray work shirt were carefully pressed. His boots ... read full excerpt from: Gabriel's Horn ebook
