Robert Ferrigno - Heart of the Assassin

Rakkim stopped at the edge of camp, just inside the shelter of the trees. The sentry at the north end of camp lay in a heap. The other sentry lay near the field hospital, his skull crushed. The door to the hospital hung off one hinge, creaking back and forth in the breeze. Rakkim approached the hospital from its blind side, the side without windows, flattened himself beside the open door, listening. Heard nothing but the faint electrical ping from the machine monitoring Moseby. He glanced through the doorway. Saw the doctor sitting in the chair beside Moseby's bed, his head half twisted off. Saw Moseby too. Saw everything. Rakkim slipped through the door, blade in his hand.

"Was wondering if you were ever getting back." Gravenholtz lay in an empty bed on the other side of Moseby's, his head propped up with three pillows, red hair spiked out as if he were an enormous porcupine. For some reason, he wore a white surgical gown that was too small for him, the seams popping. He swigged from a bottle of grape Nehi. "I was about to come looking, but figured you'd turn up eventually."

Moseby groaned, the sheet pulled up around his neck. His hands and feet were bound to the rails, his mouth wrapped in adhesive tape.

"You look tired, Rikki." Gravenholtz chugged the Nehi. "Baby must be wearing you out."

"Baby's not here."

Gravenholtz belched. "Just once I wish somebody would tell me the fucking truth the first time I asked." He threw the bottle, hit the doctor, and the doctor's body slid off the chair and onto the floor. "Doc tried to tell me you and Baby had left for Atlanta yesterday, but I knew you wouldn't leave your good buddy here." The bed creaked as he got up and stood over Moseby. "He was no help either. I was nice to him too. Gave him a good-conduct medal and everything."

Rakkim could see Eldon Harrison's Silver Star driven deep into Moseby's chest, the sheet soaked with blood. Baby had told him the truth about the wild goose chase-it had been Harrison's wife who had told Gravenholtz where they might be.

"I could hardly believe it when that zombie bitch told me you were with Moseby. My lucky day." Gravenholtz tore the medal out of Moseby's chest and Moseby shuddered, his screams muffled by the adhesive tape. "Here, you might as well take it." He tossed the Silver Star at Rakkim's feet. "You look like a hero."

Rakkim looked into Moseby's panicked eyes. "It's okay, John. I'm going to kill him."

Gravenholtz pulled a pair of latex gloves out of the pocket of his surgical gown, waved them at Rakkim. "You're ready for your exam? No telling what we're going to find."

"Lester Gravenholtz, what in the world are you doing here?" Baby stood in the doorway, tapping her foot.

"Here's somebody else likes to lie to me," said Gravenholtz, his expression a mix of lust and rage. "Big joke, huh, having me spend the last week talking to retards and monsters."

Rakkim eased closer.

"You best leave right this minute, Lester," said Baby, walking right over to him, fearless. "Go on, git. Rikki and I have business to take care of."

"Business, huh?" Gravenholtz humped an imaginary woman. " This kind of business?" He saw her put her hand on the pistol sticking out of her jeans. "You going to shoot me?"

Baby shook her head. "Wouldn't do any good."

Gravenholtz's smile was ugly as a raw wound. "See, she didn't say she didn't want to, she just said it wouldn't do any good." He put on one of the gloves, his huge hand shredding it. "Where's that piece of the cross?" He shook off the ruined glove. "You look surprised, Baby. How long did you think you could keep me in the dark?"

Baby didn't answer.

"Ibrahim told me what you were really here for," said Gravenholtz. "I don't think he likes you very much."

"There is no piece of the cross," said Baby. "None that Rikki and Moseby could find anyway."

Gravenholtz grabbed Baby's head, pulled it back so she was looking up at him. "Where is it?"

Baby slapped at him. "Let me go."

"Tell me where it is and I'll take you with me." Gravenholtz bent her head back even farther, her long neck straining as she struggled to stay upright. "You won't have to worry about anything. You know you've always been able to sweet-talk me."

Rakkim darted in, slashed Gravenholtz along the shoulder, blood dappling his surgical gown. He backed up as Gravenholtz released Baby, trying to lead the redhead toward the center of the room.

Baby hurried over to Moseby, clawed at the straps, trying to free him.

Gravenholtz turned away from Rakkim, kicked the hospital bed, and sent it skidding into the wall. The impact whiplashed Moseby, his head flopping. Gravenholtz stared at the footlocker that had been hidden under the bed. Baby grabbed for the footlocker but he batted her aside. He looked at Rakkim. "Well, well, well…"

Rakkim charged Gravenholtz, shifted his blade from hand to hand, stabbed the redhead again and again, trying to keep him off balance, but something was wrong. Either Gravenholtz was faster than he remembered, or Rakkim was still weakened by his time in D.C., because Gravenholtz kept narrowing the space between them. Even worse, though Rakkim had an intuitive awareness of the seams between Gravenholtz's subdural armor, his knife thrusts were late, missing by millimeters, the blade merely slicing the skin. Blood ran from a dozen spots on Gravenholtz's torso and legs, but he was unhurt.

"That's the best you got?" demanded Gravenholtz, face flushed with exploded capillaries. "What's happened to you, boy?" He glanced at Baby. "You sure you want to throw in with this-" Gravenholtz gasped as Rakkim drove his blade deep into his side, right through the thin spot between two plates. Cursing, he retreated, blood spurting.

"Where are you going?" Rakkim taunted, jabbed him again. And again. "Stick around, I've got something for you." He danced forward on the balls of his feet, came in low, but slid in a patch of blood, one leg going out from under him.

Gravenholtz punched Rakkim as he scrambled up.

The blow barely grazed Rakkim's jaw but his whole face went numb. He slashed away at Gravenholtz, trying to clear his vision. The redhead hit him again and the wind rushed out of Rakkim, staggering him.

Gravenholtz advanced, grinning, a big white slab of meat with piggy eyes, leaking blood all over himself-it might have been sweat for all he cared. "Don't die so easy-"

Rakkim slashed him across the knuckles, slashed him to the bone and Gravenholtz howled.

"Lester!" Baby shouted, trying to get between them. Bravest thing Rakkim had ever seen. "Lester, you were told not to hurt him!"

As Gravenholtz started to knock her aside, Rakkim drove his knife into the soft tissue under the redhead's chin, the blade shearing up, splitting his tongue and embedding in the roof of his mouth.

Gravenholtz screamed, hammered him in the ribs, the knife tearing free as Rakkim sprawled onto the floor, unmoving. Gravenholtz looked down at him, blood streaming from the gash in his mouth, then shuffled over to the footlocker and threw it open. He carefully lifted the lid of the small pine box, looked at Baby. "This is it?" he said, voice slurred. He plucked one of the tiny white flowers, sniffed it and tossed it aside. "You got to be shitting me."

"Take it and go," said Baby. "Just leave us be."

A bubble of blood popped at the side of Gravenholtz's mouth.

"Don't go." Rakkim got to his feet, wobbly. "Stick around."

Gravenholtz nodded, blood running down his neck. "That's the spirit." The flap of skin under his chin jiggled with every wheezing breath.

Rakkim circled. A few more minutes and maybe Gravenholtz would start choking on his own blood. A few more minutes and maybe Rakkim would get another chance to hurt him, really hurt him.