Брэд Мельтцер - The Fifth Assassin

“The playing card! You stole it! Wh-When I dropped my book… you picked it up and handed it back to me,” Nico growls, taking his first steps toward me.

“Nico, don’t move!” the guard shouts, pulling a high-tech walkie-talkie from his belt. He doesn’t talk into it. He just pushes a button.

On my right, through the glass windows that look back into the hospital’s main lobby, I see the guard who ran the X-ray rushing through the lobby. A male nurse is right behind him.

As Nico starts plowing at me, I back up even farther, glancing around for Clementine…

“I know you have my card!” Nico shouts.

I check the benches, the trees, even around the corner of the building.

Clementine’s nowhere to be seen.

80

Nico, if you don’t stop, you’re gonna lose ground privileges! Mail privileges too!” the guard yells from behind him.

On my right, the X-ray guard and a male nurse come racing out of the hospital’s front doors.

“Rupert, he stole my bookmark! He has my ace of clubs!” Nico yells at the nurse.

“I swear to you—I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I say.

The nurse takes one look at Nico, then turns back to me. “Empty your pockets,” the nurse tells me.

“Me? I didn’t—?”

“Empty them. Now. ”

Frozen at the front of the building, I reach into my pockets, pulling out my wallet, keys, and a small thumb drive that carries a backup of my computer. I do the same with my coat pockets. There’s chapstick, a set of gloves, and an old taxi receipt, but otherwise…

“Nothing, see? Check them yourself,” I say, stepping toward the nurse.

“Stay where you are,” the nurse warns, motioning me back.

“He’s a liar!” Nico shouts.

“Nico, I need you to get control,” the nurse says.

“He has my card! Check his pockets!”

“Please—check them again!” I insist.

“Kid, I need you out of here. Nico, get control,” the nurse says, throwing a look to the nearby guard.

Backing away, I’m already past the main doors, toward the concrete path that’ll take me to the parking lot. But as Nico starts to follow, the nurse and the guard grab him by the biceps…

“ He’s the Knave! ” Nico growls. “ Don’t you see!? You’re letting the Knave get away! ”

Breaking free from the nurse, Nico tries to run, but the X-ray guard has a stronger grip.

I don’t care who wins this fight. I sprint toward the parking lot, fishing the car keys from my pocket.

“ I know you’re the Trickster, Benjamin. I know you have my card! ” Nico roars as another guard arrives and they fight to drag him down. I hear an unnerving thud. Someone cries out in pain. As I turn the corner, into the gravel parking lot, I don’t even bother looking back.

“ Nico—! ” the male nurse shouts.

Skidding across the gravel and cutting between two parked cars, I dart for the small silver car I drove here. Clementine’s rental.

I glance around, searching for Clementine. Still no sign of her, but I take an odd relief from the fact that if Tot was shot at the hospital at the exact same time that Clementine was here with me… that means she can’t be the Knight. She can’t. But at just the thought of it… Tot was shot!

Inside my skin, I feel another, smaller version of me shrinking within myself. Please God, don’t let him die .

With a pop of the locks, I rip the door open and slide inside as momentum sends my phone tumbling out of my grip and into the small gap between the seats.

Stabbing the key into the ignition, I try to start the car, but my hands… my whole body… I can’t stop shaking or thinking of Tot.

On my left, a hollow thud hits the driver’s-side window. I jump so high, my head smacks into the lowered sun visor.

Tuuuump.

I turn just as Nico’s fist collides with the glass. It hits at full speed, his knuckles flattening at the impact. He’s trying to punch his way in, though the car doesn’t budge. From the sound alone, it has to hurt—like punching concrete. Nico doesn’t feel it. But as he winds up for another punch, he’s pulled backward, off balance.

The hospital guards grab him from behind, clutching his neck, his shoulders… anything to bring him down.

Nico howls like a captured bear, still trying to stay on his feet.

I slam the gas and a wave of loose gravel somersaults into the air.

“ You’re letting him go! Don’t let him go! ” Nico pleads, still screaming as I take off and watch him slowly shrink in the rearview mirror.

Skidding out of the parking lot and back onto the unpaved dirt road that runs toward the sign-in gate, I’m still searching bushes… trees… anywhere for Clementine. I know I won’t find her.

As I approach the small guardhouse, I slow down and add a friendly wave, praying that the guards who’re fighting Nico are still too busy to have put the word out.

From the guardhouse, a uniformed guard waves back, but I still don’t take a breath until I reach the end of the dirt road, out of the hospital grounds, and turn back onto the main city street.

Halfway up the block, I hit a red light and the car bucks to a stop. As I clutch the steering wheel, my heartbeat pumps in my fingertips. In the rearview, no one’s coming. No one’s following. I’m clear.

“ Beecher…! Beecher… you there!? ” Immaculate Deception’s voice squawks from below the seat. My phone’s still on. “ Beecher, you okay!? ”

I’m not okay.

Tot was hit in the brain.

Clementine’s missing.

And the Knight—if I’m right—is about to try and kill the President of the United States.

But as the traffic light blinks green, I keep hearing Nico’s words in my head: I know you’re the Trickster, Benjamin. I know you have my card!

He’s wrong about me being the Trickster. But he is right about one thing.

Reaching into my jacket pocket, inside one of my gloves, I pull out the single playing card with the familiar black club at the center of it. The one I palmed as I handed Nico his book.

The ace of clubs.

You were right, Nico—I’ve got your stupid card.

And if I’m right about what’s hidden on it—and the fact that he was using it to communicate with the Knight—I may not be able to stop destiny…

But I’ll be able to find out where the Knight is headed next.

81

Change of plans—everyone into your gear! ” the shift leader called out as half a dozen suit-and-tied Secret Service agents poured into the command post that was just below the Oval Office.

Sitting on one of the benches in the corner of the locker room, A.J. watched as his fellow agents scrambled around him, undoing their ties and kicking off their shoes. For any President, the schedule was set weeks in advance. To make even a minor change meant moving staff, security, press, advance teams, communication systems, and for off-site events—like today’s at the Lincoln Memorial—aerial and ground protection. So for the Service to be making all these last-minute changes on Presidents’ Day, something big was definitely going on.

“He fighting with his wife again?” an agent with black hair and a chunky gold class ring from Ohio State asked.

“No, this one came from headquarters,” another agent replied, pulling off his tie and hanging it in his locker.

At this point, A.J. knew that word hadn’t trickled down to the field guys yet. But no question, the emergency cord had been pulled. It had to be. When the higher-ups heard that a third pastor had been killed—plus an old man who was shot in the back of the head like JFK—action had to be taken. The target needed to be moved.