good.” I straightened my collar and glanced at Marco, who looked down at the unconscious body in horror.
“I ought to book you for that.” He ground the words through clenched teeth and bent to help the prone figure, until I grabbed his upper arm.
“Don’t be such a patsy,” I whispered. “This is a setup.”
He glanced around and saw what I had—an ominously deserted street. It was as if someone had shut down traffic for a parade. The Sgarristas probably had. But for just one assassination? They must have really wanted us dead.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I don’t know why the R.M.O. sent this guy to kill us, but this isn’t the place to debate the issue.”
I quickly squatted and pulled out the weapon I’d seen, which was still hidden in the assassin’s clothes, and held it up for him to see.
His face sobered. “You were right. I didn’t see the gun.”
“Hell, yes, I was right. Don’t worry about it. You have to spend some time on the streets before you notice these things.” I handed him the Uzi-size weapon and felt for a pulse in the assassin’s neck, which was partially covered with his latex mask. “This guy will be coming to soon.”
“How do you know it’s a guy?”
I grinned at him over my shoulder. “There’s only one sure way to find out.”
I tucked my fingers under the edge of the latex and pulled the mask off, revealing the sweating, unconscious face of a dark-haired, twenty-something guy whose ancestors definitely once vacationed on the Baltic Sea.
“You were right again,” Marco acknowledged.
“I usually am. Don’t ask me why.”
“How did you know this guy was waiting for us?”
“I really don’t know. I’ve always had great intuition but this was…this was too weird.”
He nodded, but hardly looked convinced. He turned his professional scrutiny to the contraption in his hands. “What do you think this is?”
“I don’t know, but I feel a lot safer knowing it’s in our hands and not his.”
I stood and he handed it over for my examination. It was surprisingly light. There was a trigger, but that was the only conventional technology on the foot-and-a-half-long contraption. The nose ballooned like a flamethrower, but I was sure it shot out something far more subtle and dangerous. Something inside of it glowed unnaturally. All ruminations came to a screeching halt when Marco stiffened and pointed down the empty street.
“Baker.”
“I see her.” A figure stood staring at us five hundred yards down the road. This time it really was a woman. I could tell by the natural flow of her long black hair, the knockout body in black tights, the cocky, somehow sexy stance. “If this is Tweedle Dee, there’s Tweedle Dumb . Though I have a feeling she’s anything but.”
My supposition proved all too true. While she distracted us, the Sgarrista on the ground grabbed a knife and lunged toward me. Damn. I had been so entranced with the first weapon I hadn’t searched for another. Marco turned and socked the guy hard in the jaw. I was impressed. But the Sgarrista barely moved. Oh, great! Jaws of steel.
The assassin kicked his leg out and rammed meagainst the brick wall. I groaned, half expecting to hear the crack of bones. He grabbed Marco by the collar and had the knife to his throat so fast I couldn’t react in any other way. I aimed the mysterious weapon and pulled the trigger. I didn’t even hesitate.
What happened next was amazing. I’ve never killed anyone, but in this case, I had no choice but to use the assassin’s own weapon against him.
Some sort of glowing laser beam soundlessly emitted from the snout. The Sgarrista watched with intense horror as it apparently penetrated his bulletproof vest. He scrambled backward as if it were a giant, creepy spider crawling up his chest. Then he dropped his knife and his shoulders slumped in complete defeat. I turned the weapon to the James Bond chick who watched the whole thing from down the
“I ought to book you for that.” He ground the words through clenched teeth and bent to help the prone figure, until I grabbed his upper arm.
“Don’t be such a patsy,” I whispered. “This is a setup.”
He glanced around and saw what I had—an ominously deserted street. It was as if someone had shut down traffic for a parade. The Sgarristas probably had. But for just one assassination? They must have really wanted us dead.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I don’t know why the R.M.O. sent this guy to kill us, but this isn’t the place to debate the issue.”
I quickly squatted and pulled out the weapon I’d seen, which was still hidden in the assassin’s clothes, and held it up for him to see.
His face sobered. “You were right. I didn’t see the gun.”
“Hell, yes, I was right. Don’t worry about it. You have to spend some time on the streets before you notice these things.” I handed him the Uzi-size weapon and felt for a pulse in the assassin’s neck, which was partially covered with his latex mask. “This guy will be coming to soon.”
“How do you know it’s a guy?”
I grinned at him over my shoulder. “There’s only one sure way to find out.”
I tucked my fingers under the edge of the latex and pulled the mask off, revealing the sweating, unconscious face of a dark-haired, twenty-something guy whose ancestors definitely once vacationed on the Baltic Sea.
“You were right again,” Marco acknowledged.
“I usually am. Don’t ask me why.”
“How did you know this guy was waiting for us?”
“I really don’t know. I’ve always had great intuition but this was…this was too weird.”
He nodded, but hardly looked convinced. He turned his professional scrutiny to the contraption in his hands. “What do you think this is?”
“I don’t know, but I feel a lot safer knowing it’s in our hands and not his.”
I stood and he handed it over for my examination. It was surprisingly light. There was a trigger, but that was the only conventional technology on the foot-and-a-half-long contraption. The nose ballooned like a flamethrower, but I was sure it shot out something far more subtle and dangerous. Something inside of it glowed unnaturally. All ruminations came to a screeching halt when Marco stiffened and pointed down the empty street.
“Baker.”
“I see her.” A figure stood staring at us five hundred yards down the road. This time it really was a woman. I could tell by the natural flow of her long black hair, the knockout body in black tights, the cocky, somehow sexy stance. “If this is Tweedle Dee, there’s Tweedle Dumb . Though I have a feeling she’s anything but.”
My supposition proved all too true. While she distracted us, the Sgarrista on the ground grabbed a knife and lunged toward me. Damn. I had been so entranced with the first weapon I hadn’t searched for another. Marco turned and socked the guy hard in the jaw. I was impressed. But the Sgarrista barely moved. Oh, great! Jaws of steel.
The assassin kicked his leg out and rammed meagainst the brick wall. I groaned, half expecting to hear the crack of bones. He grabbed Marco by the collar and had the knife to his throat so fast I couldn’t react in any other way. I aimed the mysterious weapon and pulled the trigger. I didn’t even hesitate.
What happened next was amazing. I’ve never killed anyone, but in this case, I had no choice but to use the assassin’s own weapon against him.
Some sort of glowing laser beam soundlessly emitted from the snout. The Sgarrista watched with intense horror as it apparently penetrated his bulletproof vest. He scrambled backward as if it were a giant, creepy spider crawling up his chest. Then he dropped his knife and his shoulders slumped in complete defeat. I turned the weapon to the James Bond chick who watched the whole thing from down the
Similar Books
