Chris Mooney - World Without End

He grabbed Renee by the arm.

Renee screamed out for help. The cop punched her across the mouth and Renee buckled to her knees. Conway made a move and Misha was there in front of him with the gun.

He'll shoot you right here, a voice said. These guys have no boundaries. Let the cop take Renee outside where Cole and his men are waiting. He'll move people on her so just let her go and you can take care of Misha.

Which wouldn't be easy. The man was massive; his entire bulk seemed to occupy the small space, his barrel-size chest looking like it was about to burst from underneath the blue shirt.

Renee was on the floor, bleeding and dazed. The cop handcuffed her and then yanked her up and led her away. The other cop remained on the stairs, keeping people from coming up. Conway was alone with Misha now. The cool, semidark air smelled of water and a foul combination of dried sweat mixed with cologne, and another odor, one that made Conway think of sour milk and musty towels.

Pasha's words came back to him: A fat, smelly animal named Misba raped me on the kitchen table while my father sat in a chair with a gun pointed at his head… Misha came back again. Not only did he fuck me again in front of my father, but when Misha was done, he placed my head on the wood stove, burning my ear off.

"Now it's your turn to go," Misha said.

The light from the water tank cast white water rings that glowed across the ceiling and walls. Below, a crying Renee was hauled out of the Aquarium.

You've got to stall him. Cole's going to have his hands full when he makes a run to get Renee Kaufmann.

"I want to make a deal," Conway said.

"You don't make deals. You do what you're told."

"I know how to operate the suit."

"So does Major Dick."

"I can hack my way past the security and get you inside the suit, show you how it works."

Misha was quiet, listening or thinking, Conway couldn't tell.

"You take me to where the suit is, I'll unlock all of it," Conway said.

"All you have to do is let Dixon and the girl go and take me as your prisoner instead. You take me in, I unlock the suit, and everyone walks away clean, win-win."

Misha fired a shot. The silenced round hit the floor.

"The next time it's your fucking kneecap," Misha said.

"Now move it."

"You know about the transponder, right?"

"The what?"

"The suit is equipped with a transponder," Conway said.

"The second the decryption code is entered, the transponder is automatically activated. We'll be able to track the location of that suit with the satellite."

"Can you shut it off?"

"Only if you bring Dixon and the girl to me."

With his other hand Misha reached inside his jacket and came out with a knife that looked like a miniature machete. Knife in hand, he put the gun away. His face was a dark red, his trembling body energized with adrenaline and anger, his muscles flexing, ready.

"I'm sick of dealing with you CIA fucks," Misha said. Spittle flew out of his mouth as he talked.

"Now you're going to give me exactly what I fucking want, right here, right fucking now or I'm going to take it out of you in chunks."

Conway had to draw him in. It was the only way to get the knife from Misha.

You hope. The guy is massive. And don't forget about the other cop on the stairs.

Cole's men should have been in here by now. What was taking them so long?

Misha lunged forward; Conway jumped back and hit the wall. The knife was less than a foot away from his face. Then Misha shifted the blade in his hand so the tip was pointed down toward the floor. Then he raised the knife and brought the blade down in a frightening arc.

That was his mistake. Conway's instinct and martial arts training took over. His rear foot slid out to the side, and as Misha's hand came down with the knife, Conway used the animal's momentum and brought the blade down so it missed him and instead sunk deep into Misha's knee.

Misha roared in pain, all of his attention focused on the blade that had pierced through the back of his leg. Quickly, Conway gripped the knife hard and twisted it and then yanked it up so it the blade sliced up through his leg, blood pouring all over his hands. Then he released his grip, raked his elbow up the length of Misha's arm and using all of his strength snapped the animal's head back.

Conway thought Misha would fall back. He didn't. His pumpkin-size head simply bounced back, his tolerance for pain amazing. Misha grabbed Conway with both of his meaty hands and lifted him into the air. Conway's arms came up from his sides, about to execute a move that would release him from the man's grip, when he felt the back of his calves hit the edge of the water tank. Jesus Christ, he's going to throw me into the tank. He was already over the edge, his back inside the cold water, it was too late, he was going to go under. Conway clutched Misha's meaty arm and yanked him along with him into the tank, they were underwater now, the world a blur of shadows and colorful shapes as they both sank toward the bottom of the aquarium.

Pasha Romanov had been shadowing Stephen since his arrival in Boston.

Two men, no doubt belonging to Misha, had been following him. Last night, at the wake, after Stephen had left, Pasha had watched one of these men walk inside the funeral home. When he came back out, she had tailed him until they reached the highway, when he must have sensed that he was being followed and shook her. She drove the van back to Stephen's hotel and had followed him this morning to the Aquarium. She didn't like the idea of Stephen going inside alone, so she went in after him.

The Aquarium was small, with not much room to hide. She walked around in the cool air searching for him, the brim of the blue Red Sox baseball cap pulled down low to cover her eyes. She wasn't worried about being spotted. She wore jeans and sneakers and a bulky winter coat packed with down; a polar fleece headband covered her ears, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

Where was he? He wasn't on the first floor. He couldn't have left; that much she knew. A moment later she saw a small, bloodied woman being hauled out the front door by a Boston cop. She was about to make her way up the winding ramp when she heard a woman scream.

Pasha turned and saw the horrified expression of a young mother scooping up her toddler into her arms, the boy still pointing at the glass aquarium tank where Stephen was trapped at the bottom, on his back, Misha straddling him but trying to break free of Stephen's grip.

A knife was stuck in Misha's knee; blood rose up through the water like clouds of red ink, rising past his clenched teeth and drifting up and past the group of sand sharks circling overhead.

The sharks had sensed the blood in the water and were swimming fast toward Misha and Stephen.

Pasha unzipped her coat and ran toward the tank. The young mother ran past her. The cool air became charged with adrenaline as other people screamed and ran for the exits. A handful of others remained frozen in place, too afraid or mesmerized to move. They stood around the large section of glass, their feet planted as they watched in wonder and mounting terror at the unbelievable spectacle that was about to unfold right in front of them.

"Holy shit, look!" a man yelled, backing up as he pointed at the glass.

The first shark sunk its teeth deep into Misha's arm and started twisting its powerful head side to side, its razor-sharp teeth ripping off a chunk of meat. A burst of blood formed a watery red cloud around Misha's face as he turned and tried to fend off the attack with his free hand, the second shark having already moved in for the kill and sunk its teeth into Misha's shoulder. Stephen lay on his back, sand swirling around him, his body wedged against the rocks and tank, trapped, the sharks feeding just a few feet above him.