their first mistake. Their last, too. It dulled their reaction times, and by the time the big brute on the left had managed to knock it out of the way, I had my pistol in my hands and pointed at his chest. He looked with all the terror of a trout stranded on a riverbank, and desperately tried to unbutton his unseasonably heavy coat to reach his gun.
I shot him in the chest. The second the silenced gunshot went off in the confined elevator, his companion stopped dead, his hand marooned inside his jacket.
"Listen to me very carefully," I said in a measured, calm tone of voice. "If you go for that gun, I'm going to have to shoot you. Understand?"
The brutish Russian gangster stared at me with terror in his eyes and dropped his hand to his side. It was trembling, like Hitler's did in his bunker towards the end of the war. I kinda felt sorry for the guy. At least, I did before I remembered that the only reason he was here at all was to kill Ellie.
I don't want to kill you , I thought. I can't face adding another name to the list of men I've killed. But I will if I have to .
I reached over, finished unbuttoning his coat for him, and tossed his gun over my shoulder and down the corridor. "Now, what the hell am I going to do with you?" I mused out loud.
"Please," he said in accented, clearly broken English. "Just let me go."
"Now, now," I chided. "I can't just let you go, can I Boris?"
"Not Boris," he said, his face wrinkling with confusion.
I waved the barrel of the gun over to the left-hand corner of the elevator, next to Boris's companion's slowly cooling body. "Doesn't matter. Sit over there, let me think."
He thought about complaining, then thought better of it, and lowered himself to his friend's prone body with a disgusted, terrified frown on his face.
What's in the cart?
I rifled through the top drawer, only to find a collection of bandages, surgical tape and syringes. Nothing useful. The second drawer down, though, was locked.
That seems promising.
I checked that Boris was safe, sound and quiet, reversed the gun in my hands so that I was holding it by its barrel, and brought the butt down heavily. The lock splintered into a dozen twisted fragments of metal, and I pulled the drawer out greedily.
Jackpot!
I pulled out a little vial and read the label. "How do you feel about epinephrine, Boris?"
He looked at me uncomprehendingly, and repeated, "not Boris."
"I know, I know. No, maybe epinephrine's not the best call. I don't want your heart attack on my conscience, you know?" I pulled out another vial. "Now we're talking."
Boris looked up nervously. "Don't worry, buddy," I joked. "It won't hurt."
But it's going to be a hell of a trip.
I injected the needle into the foil seal, and emptied the vial, filling the syringe to the top.
"Please…" Boris protested. "What's that?"
I kept the gun trained on him as I leaned forward. I injected the clear liquid directly into his carotid artery, and then smashed my handgun against his forehead, knocking him out cold for good measure. I tucked the little medicine vial in between his fingers, just in case anyone wanted to know why a two hundred pound Russian mobster was lying unconscious in the elevator.
I laughed to myself as I enabled the security override to lock the elevator doors. It wouldn't keep the bodies hidden long, but hopefully long enough for me to do what I needed to do. "A hundred milligrams of diazepam. Boris, that's going to be one hell of a dream…"
9
E llie
I heard a knock at the door, and it was accompanied by a familiar voice that brought a smile to my lips. "Miss Francis?"
"Alice, you can call me Ellie, you know that!" I laughed, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
"Sorry, Ellie," the friendly, plump nurse chuckled. "I know, it's just we don't get many patients like you…"
"Patients like me?" I asked, surprised by her almost reverential tone.
"Yeah. I shouldn't tell you this really…" Alice trailed off.
I shot her a piercing glare.
I shot him in the chest. The second the silenced gunshot went off in the confined elevator, his companion stopped dead, his hand marooned inside his jacket.
"Listen to me very carefully," I said in a measured, calm tone of voice. "If you go for that gun, I'm going to have to shoot you. Understand?"
The brutish Russian gangster stared at me with terror in his eyes and dropped his hand to his side. It was trembling, like Hitler's did in his bunker towards the end of the war. I kinda felt sorry for the guy. At least, I did before I remembered that the only reason he was here at all was to kill Ellie.
I don't want to kill you , I thought. I can't face adding another name to the list of men I've killed. But I will if I have to .
I reached over, finished unbuttoning his coat for him, and tossed his gun over my shoulder and down the corridor. "Now, what the hell am I going to do with you?" I mused out loud.
"Please," he said in accented, clearly broken English. "Just let me go."
"Now, now," I chided. "I can't just let you go, can I Boris?"
"Not Boris," he said, his face wrinkling with confusion.
I waved the barrel of the gun over to the left-hand corner of the elevator, next to Boris's companion's slowly cooling body. "Doesn't matter. Sit over there, let me think."
He thought about complaining, then thought better of it, and lowered himself to his friend's prone body with a disgusted, terrified frown on his face.
What's in the cart?
I rifled through the top drawer, only to find a collection of bandages, surgical tape and syringes. Nothing useful. The second drawer down, though, was locked.
That seems promising.
I checked that Boris was safe, sound and quiet, reversed the gun in my hands so that I was holding it by its barrel, and brought the butt down heavily. The lock splintered into a dozen twisted fragments of metal, and I pulled the drawer out greedily.
Jackpot!
I pulled out a little vial and read the label. "How do you feel about epinephrine, Boris?"
He looked at me uncomprehendingly, and repeated, "not Boris."
"I know, I know. No, maybe epinephrine's not the best call. I don't want your heart attack on my conscience, you know?" I pulled out another vial. "Now we're talking."
Boris looked up nervously. "Don't worry, buddy," I joked. "It won't hurt."
But it's going to be a hell of a trip.
I injected the needle into the foil seal, and emptied the vial, filling the syringe to the top.
"Please…" Boris protested. "What's that?"
I kept the gun trained on him as I leaned forward. I injected the clear liquid directly into his carotid artery, and then smashed my handgun against his forehead, knocking him out cold for good measure. I tucked the little medicine vial in between his fingers, just in case anyone wanted to know why a two hundred pound Russian mobster was lying unconscious in the elevator.
I laughed to myself as I enabled the security override to lock the elevator doors. It wouldn't keep the bodies hidden long, but hopefully long enough for me to do what I needed to do. "A hundred milligrams of diazepam. Boris, that's going to be one hell of a dream…"
9
E llie
I heard a knock at the door, and it was accompanied by a familiar voice that brought a smile to my lips. "Miss Francis?"
"Alice, you can call me Ellie, you know that!" I laughed, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
"Sorry, Ellie," the friendly, plump nurse chuckled. "I know, it's just we don't get many patients like you…"
"Patients like me?" I asked, surprised by her almost reverential tone.
"Yeah. I shouldn't tell you this really…" Alice trailed off.
I shot her a piercing glare.
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