Barry Eisler - Killing Rain aka One Last Kill

Finally he tossed the towel into the basket under the sink.

If you comb your hair now, I thought, or examine your teeth, or adjust your tie, I will kill you.

But the man decided not to engage in any of these fatal activities. He simply walked out the door.

Delilah said, “You’re so nice. I’m sorry I was so forward just now.”

The guard said, “I’m used to forward women. I like them.”

“Really?” she asked. “Where are you from?”

“I need his back to me,” I said, emerging from the closet and heading toward the door. “Now.”

The guard said, “I’m Filipino.”

“It is,” Delilah said, without changing her tone at all.

And while the bodyguard was busy trying to process that non sequitur, I stepped out of the bathroom behind him and nailed him in the base of the skull with a hammer-fist, one end of the Surefire leading the way. He grunted and his body shivered, but he didn’t go down. Damn, this guy had a hell of a thick skull. I went to hit him again, but Delilah had already moved in, slapping him with the syringe on the side of the neck, over the carotid. He grunted again and started groping for something under his jacket. I caught his arm to stop him. He tried to turn toward me. Delilah reached in and smoothly retrieved what he had been going for-a Kimber Pro CDP II in a hip holster carry.

The guy managed to turn all the way around and face me. He reached out as though to grapple with me, but then his feet went out from under him, from the blow or the injection I wasn’t sure. He crashed into me and I caught him under the arms and around the back. I stumbled backward through the bathroom door, grunting with the effort. The guy must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. Delilah followed us through, closing the door behind us. I saw her eject the Kimber’s magazine, check its load, and pop it back in. She pulled back the slide a half inch, nodded as though she liked what she saw, and let the slide go.

“Brace the door,” I said, straining to support the dead weight in my arms. “Don’t want anyone coming in.”

She pressed her right toes against the door, her heel wedged to the floor, and took a long step back with her other leg. I dragged the guard into the closet and dumped him on top of his erstwhile client. I stepped over them both and closed the door behind me.

Someone tried the bathroom door. When it didn’t open, the person knocked. Delilah kept her foot in place and said, “We’re cleaning in here, sorry. Please use the restroom on thirteen.”

Cleaning, I thought. That’s one way to put it.

The knocking stopped.

I walked over and said, “Give me the gun.”

She shook her head. “Just go. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Come on, this isn’t what you do.”

“It’s what I have to do.”

“Let me finish what I started. With a gun, I can take care of them both.”

I thought that was what she would want to hear, but she shook her head again.

“Look,” I said, “where are you going to hide that cannon with what you’re wearing? It’s bigger than your purse.”

She took a deep breath and said, “You fulfilled your contract with Manny. You’ll be paid. Now just go.”

“Will you give me the fucking gun? I don’t know how much time we have.”

She looked at me, and for a second I thought I’d convinced her. But then she opened the door and walked out into the corridor to the stairway. I went out after her. She held the gun low along her right leg.

I heard Dox in my ear. “What’s the status there, ladies and gentlemen, your conversation is making me nervous.”

“I’ll handle the rest, Dox,” Delilah said, still heading for the stairs. “You should just go. Now would be a good opportunity.”

“Come on, Delilah,” he said, “we’re not just going to leave you. You can rely on my partner. I’ve seen his shooting, believe me, he hits things and they don’t get back up.”

We stopped on the landing between the stairs up to the fifteenth floor and down to the thirteenth. From here, we could only go up to fifteen, down to thirteen, or back along the corridor to the restrooms. For a moment, I thought of just grabbing her and trying to take the gun. But she was keeping her gun side away from me-keeping it away deliberately. I doubted I could disarm her without either harming her or getting shot myself. Neither was an attractive alternative.

I took her by the arm and started to say, “Damn it, Delilah…”

There was a sound at the top of the stairs above us. We both looked. It was Hilger and Al-Jib, descending toward us. Hilger was holding a gun in a two-handed grip, close to his body and pointing at the floor. He looked at me and I saw hard recognition in his eyes.

Shit. They must have gotten suspicious about Manny taking so long, and emerged to investigate.

“Step out of the way, John,” Hilger said. “We just want to leave. There’s no need for anyone to get killed here.”

Delilah was holding the Kimber, but it was clear to me that Hilger had the advantage. His weapon was more at the ready, for one thing. He had the high ground, for another. Also, presumably the gun he was holding was familiar to him, was presumably the very gun he trained with, whereas Delilah was relying on someone else’s weapon, a four-inch-barrel.45 that was probably too big for her. Delilah must have recognized all this, too, or she would already have tried for a shot.

But then why hadn’t Hilger already dropped us? I’d seen his combat shooting skills in front of Kwai Chung and knew he was formidable. And then I realized: He’s known here. This is part of his cover. He doesn’t want to shoot .

Al-Jib didn’t say anything. He looked scared. This was Hilger’s show.

“No problem,” I said, showing my hands. “Our business wasn’t with you. We’re finished.”

At a minimum, I had to get us onto level ground. Better yet, let them go down the stairs past us. Then the high ground would be ours. They’d be struggling to keep us covered and descend the stairs backward at the same time.

Hilger frowned. “Manny?”

“Manny’s done. You and I are quits.”

His eyes narrowed. “We’re not quits.”

Well, so much for lulling him.

Delilah said, “You can go. But not your friend.”

“Sorry, we’re both going to leave,” Hilger said. “Around you or through you, your choice.”

“I don’t have a problem with around,” I said, thinking, Goddamnit, Delilah, follow my lead .

I heard Dox in my ear. “I know what’s going on, folks, but I can’t help you while they’re above you on the stairs. You’ve got to let ’em down past fourteen.”

“Let’s just do as he says,” I said to Delilah, referring, of course, to Dox.

There was a long pause. I supposed she just instinctively didn’t want to take herself from between Al-Jib and an escape path.

But she was tactical, she must have understood the situation. Our position relative to Hilger and Al-Jib was untenable. It was as though she was just trying to delay things, slow Al-Jib down. But why would she…

A stair creaked on one of the risers below. I don’t know if it was intuition, or a sixth sense, or what, but I ducked. I heard the pfffft of a suppressed pistol and a round cracked into the wall behind me.

I sprang to my right, down the corridor toward the bathroom. As I did so I saw Gil, moving toward us from below, his gun out. I heard Delilah scream, “No!” A second later, gunfire erupted from the stairs above us.

I blasted open the bathroom door and stumbled inside. “Get out of the bar!” I said to Dox through the lapel mike. I ran for the closet, opened the door, and got inside. “Gil’s here. Delilah must have called him. They’re on the stairs. We’re blown. There’s nothing we can do.”