By H. P. Oliver

Copyright 2020 HPO Productions
All Rights Reserved

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Excerpted From

Night Train To Frisco

October, 1942
Southern Pacific Coaster, Santa Barbara, California

The pistol went flying, and the impact of my valise combined with the swaying movement of the train and the stylish heels she wore left her off balance. As the pistol clattered to the steel floor, the blonde's body flew backwards. Her head hit the metal wall behind her with an audible "thunk," and she slumped to the floor like a rag doll.

As all this happened, I was experiencing some balance problems of my own. The weight and centrifugal force of the valise were pulling me forward. My feet got tangled up with her outstretched legs and I followed her down to the vestibule floor. Fortunately, I hit the wall with my shoulder instead of my head and still had the presence of mind to scramble after the pistol. I grabbed it and got myself vertical again, keeping one eye on the blonde the whole time. I needn't have been in such a hurry to get my hands on the pistol because she was out cold.

I dropped the little gun into my jacket pocket and checked her for a pulse. Relieved to feel a strong, steady beat in her right wrist, I quickly checked her purse for additional weapons and found none. My relief that I hadn't killed her was short-lived, though, as the circumstances of my situation sank in. I had a very attractive unconscious blonde at my feet on a train full of soldiers and sailors. It would be easier to convince those GIs that Adolph Hitler was Santa Claus than persuade them this woman was a dangerous Nazi spy.