Greg Rucka - Critical Space

I heard her move past me on the right, stepping up out of the living room, into the hallway that led from the front door. As she did, Oxford sidestepped his way around, as if to block her from making a break for it. Bridgett risked a glance at me, but I didn't move and I didn't speak. There was nothing to do and nothing to say.

"You can stop there," Oxford instructed, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder, as if to assure himself that the door was directly behind him.

Chris stopped moving. Her hands were visibly trembling. The book-bag looked like it would fall any second.

"This'll work," Oxford said, more to himself than to us.

Then he shot her in the chest.

The shotgun had been loaded with buckshot rather than slugs, and the close-range blast punched through Havel in a mist of blood and gore that fell on the tile like paint spattered from a shaken brush. Bridgett choked back a cry, took a step forward, then stopped as Oxford moved the barrel level to her chest. I didn't move, feeling my own hands shake, my whole inside turning wild and cold.

Havel staggered, then fell on her back, her neck craned and her eyes open, staring at us, already dead.

"I'm having to improvise," Oxford told us. "But this'll do."

"Holy Mother of God," Bridgett whispered. "Why.?.."

"The problem has always been how to discredit the whole thing, you see, not just her or Kodiak or, uh, 'Drama' back there." He began inching back to where the SIG lay on the floor, used his head to gesture to where Alena lay, out of sight. "Initially I was planning to stage the two women together, then use Mr. Kodiak as the jealous lover. But this is really much better, because it's closer to the truth."

He had reached the discarded pistol, perhaps twelve feet away, and now crouched, keeping his eyes on us. I thought maybe he was about to give me an opening, but he wedged the stock of the shotgun against his hip before reaching for the gun, still keeping his finger on the trigger. If I tried anything, either Bridgett or I would end up dead. When he had the gun, he reached around behind his back and stowed it in his belt. Then he rose again and gave us a smile.

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," Bridgett said.

"That's okay," he said. "Kodiak does, don't you?"

"Who hired you?" I asked.

"This isn't James Bond, Kodiak. This is the real deal. If you know, you know, that's fine, you'll die with the knowledge. Otherwise, you die curious."

"He's been hired to do more than just kill Drama." I kept my eyes on him while I spoke. "He's a… character assassin, I guess is the best description."

"That's the best description." He risked a glance over his shoulder, to the stairs, and apparently Alena hadn't regained consciousness, because when he looked back our way, he was still smiling. "Okay, I think we're ready. I can finish down here when we're done. Ms. Logan, if you'll step this way?"

"Fuck off and die," she said.

Oxford made a sound that was part exasperation, part laugh, then moved the barrel of the Neostead back to me. "Do it or I'll kill him here. I won't like it, it's not the effect I'm after, but as I already said, I improvise superbly. Trust me, I can make it work."

"The effect you're after?"

"God is in the details, Ms. Logan."

She looked at me, and she had her fear under control, but it was obvious that the leverage was working. She started to where he was standing and he let her close to about six feet before ordering her to stop and turn around. When she did, he pushed the barrel of the shotgun to the base of her skull hard enough to keep it there with one hand. With his other, he took hold of her by the hair.

"Kodiak, to the foot of the stairs and pick her up," he said. "You're not going to be able to rouse her. I hit her with etorphine, she's going to be down for several hours yet. If it makes you feel better, she won't feel a thing."

Alena still hadn't moved, still unconscious, and I crouched and got my arms beneath her. It was a different lift than before, and she was heavier in my arms.

When I was up again, he said, "Her bedroom. Put her on the bed."

I started up the stairs, desperately sorting through my options. There wasn't a lot in Alena's bedroom that could double as a weapon, at least nothing that I could think of off the top of my head. The Korth was still in the bathroom, as far as I knew, but there was no way I could get to it without getting Bridgett killed. If Miata had been inside maybe I'd have had a chance, but he wasn't, and it was just as likely that Miata was dead. I had no idea how long Oxford had been in the house before he'd revealed himself to me, though I suspected he had entered when Havel and Bridgett had, using them as cover.

Behind me, I heard Oxford ordering Bridgett to follow me, to take it slow.

I reached the top of the stairs, moved through the open doorway into Alena's bedroom, and set her on the bed. The clock and lamp were on the near-side nightstand, but neither could do me any good; the clock was too light to use as a weapon, and the lamp too clumsy.

They entered close after me, as I was turning from the bed, and as soon as Oxford was through the door he gave Bridgett's hair a tug, halting her. She grimaced, furious.

"When was the last time you flicked our friend on the bed there?" Oxford asked me.

"Never."

"Please. I'm asking because it's important, and I need the truth."

"Never," I repeated.

"I understand how awkward this is, confessing your infidelity in Ms. Logan's presence, but I don't have time for this. Now, when was the last time you fucked her?"

"I've never had intercourse with her."

"After all this time here, just the two of you?"

"Shocking, I know," I said.

"What did you do all those long nights?" he wondered.

"We watched a lot of ballet."

"Huh." He considered. "Ms. Logan, turn around. Face me."

The muscles in Bridgett's jaw were jumping as she turned. He still hadn't let go of her hair. When she was facing him, he set the barrel of the shotgun beneath her chin.

"There's a bottle in the fanny pack. Reach inside with your left hand, slowly, and remove it. If you make any sudden moves, you'll die. And Mr. Kodiak…"

"I understand," I said.

She took almost half a minute to do it, but it felt a decade longer. When the bottle was in her hand he ordered her to turn around again and hand it to me. I took it, feeling the sweat from her fingers on the plastic. I could hear pills rattling around inside as I turned it to read the label. It was a bottle of Viagra, 50mg tablets, the prescription in my name.

"Take two of them. Then set the bottle on the nightstand."

Bridgett looked at me, and the horror that was creeping onto her face told me that she'd finally figured out the full extent of what Oxford had planned.

I stared at the bottle in my hand but didn't open it.

"Take them."

"No."

He sighed, then twisted the handful of Bridgett's hair until she winced. "If you're saying you don't need any help to get it up, that's one thing. There are guys who can climax easily under these circumstances, believe it or not. You don't strike me as one of them. So you'll take the pills, because if you do, there is a chance I will let Ms. Logan live. If you do not take the pills, I'll kill all three of you."

Just buy the time, I thought. Take the pills and buy the time. There is a way out of this, you just haven't seen it yet. Take the pills, buy the time.

After I'd swallowed the second pill I put the bottle on the nightstand as he'd directed.

"Good," Oxford said, and he gave Bridgett a shove, letting go of her hair and again taking hold of the shotgun with both hands. The push put her off balance, and she bared her teeth as she righted herself, pulling up just in front of me. Her eyes met mine briefly, the look in them tormented.