Endgame. Part 11

n.o.boru rolled off the bed, started for the window, but Horatio was already crying out, "Don't do it, mate."

He hesitated, glanced back at the hard-eyed Brit.

"Just return the money," said Gothwhiler, lifting his own pistol.

"I took back what was mine. Nothing more."

"We don't care," snapped Horatio. "You're a very naive young man. And trust me. I know what it's like to play with fire. . . ."

n.o.boru had completed a two-part a.s.sa.s.sination job for the company, killing the CEO of a competing PMC headquartered in Hong Kong. Once he'd killed the old man, he'd been instructed to kill the man's wife and seventeen-year-old daughter, in order to make a "lasting impression" on the firm's remaining employees, whom Gothos wanted out of the mercenary business.

After a.s.sa.s.sinating the CEO, n.o.boru had spent a week studying his targets and realized that he couldn't bring himself to complete the job. He returned and asked for half of his two-hundred-thousand-dollar payment.

Because he had not "completed" the mission, Gothwhiler had refused to pay him anything. With the help of an old friend in the special forces, n.o.boru hacked the company's account and withdrew half his fee--only the half he believed they owed him.

Consequently, Horatio and Gothwhiler had made it their mission in life to find him, get back their money, and then, of course, make n.o.boru suffer a long and painful death.

n.o.boru had no intention of ever returning the money. He had already sent it to his parents in Yokohama, and they had already used it to save their house and get ahead on the bills. And if these two Brits were going to kill him, he'd force them to do it quickly, which was why, without a second's hesitation, he threw himself out the window. Horatio fired and Gothwhiler screamed for him not to, since only n.o.boru knew where the money was and could return it.

But Horatio was no amateur marksman, and his round had managed to catch n.o.boru in the right arm just as he'd been pa.s.sing through the window.

He landed in the garbage below and immediately rolled down the bags and came up, as the first stinging from the gunshot wound took hold. He rose, raced to the brick wall, and glanced down at his bleeding arm.

Then he raced to the main entrance of the building, where he knew Horatio and Gothwhiler would emerge.

They had surprised him in his apartment. He only wanted to return the favor.

Gothwhiler came out first, and n.o.boru, in one fluid movement, took him from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck and seizing the man's wrist so he could direct his pistol toward . . .

Horatio, forcing both men to hold their fire, if only for a few seconds. n.o.boru drove his knee into Gothwhiler's spine, and as the man groaned, he shoved him forward, into Horatio, who lost his footing and dropped back onto his rump.

Two old men on the opposite side of the street began shouting, and, in that instant, n.o.boru made a decision.

Run.

He bolted around a row of parked cars, and, using them as a s.h.i.+eld, crouched over and reached the next cross street.

Now he was into a full sprint, weaving his way through the throng of pedestrians, stealing glimpses over his shoulder, feeling the blood dripping from his arm.

His heart was drumming in his ears, rapping hard, sounding strangely like a knuckle rapping on gla.s.s.

"What the h.e.l.l is this, Bruce? Open up!"

n.o.boru shook awake, his arm throbbing as it had back then, and found himself staring directly into Mr. Louis Moreau's ugly mug and grateful there was a piece of gla.s.s between them.

Moreau stepped back from the car and waved him out.

"Maya, wake up. Our runner is here. I don't think you'll be happy."

HANSEN and Ames were about halfway to Boutin's apartment when Grim called, and he spoke to her via his SVT and subdermal. "Ben, I need to make this brief. There's been a slight change in how this operation will be coordinated. When your runner arrives, he'll explain everything. I'll be out of touch for a little while." and Ames were about halfway to Boutin's apartment when Grim called, and he spoke to her via his SVT and subdermal. "Ben, I need to make this brief. There's been a slight change in how this operation will be coordinated. When your runner arrives, he'll explain everything. I'll be out of touch for a little while."

"Grim, wait. I have questions."

"I wish I could answer them. I really do. Suffice it to say that you need to focus on the job. Good luck, Ben."

"Wait."

She ended the call.

"She says there's been a change in plans, in how we'll coordinate."

"What does that mean?" asked Ames.

"The runner's supposed to tell us."

"WHAT is this?" asked Valentina, standing outside their car. She was furious that Moreau et al had lied to them about his whereabouts and probably more. "You were just talking to Kim on the computer, and she said you were back at Fort Meade." is this?" asked Valentina, standing outside their car. She was furious that Moreau et al had lied to them about his whereabouts and probably more. "You were just talking to Kim on the computer, and she said you were back at Fort Meade."

"First, let's slow down, Nurse Ratched--and speaking of which, I've got your uniforms and IDs in the trunk."

"Nurse who?"

"I don't believe it. Are you going to stand there and tell me you have not seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest?"

Valentina frowned. "It's a movie?"

"Of course it is, suns.h.i.+ne!"

"I am not familiar with that movie, either," said n.o.boru.

"Aw, you boys and girls got to be kidding me. When you're drunk or bored sometime, Google it. For now, listen up."

Valentina snickered. "For the second time, why are you here?"

"I'm getting to that. You'll be coordinating directly with me right here in Reims, but we want them to think I'm at 3E headquarters."

"We want who to think?"

"Kovac."

"What're you talking about?"

"He's got his eyes and ears all over us. Grim and I decided that it was more important for me to work hands on this time around. So I brought you the gear and my s.h.i.+ning personality, and I'll be staying right here while you track Fisher. You'll have a secure, encrypted link directly to me, and I'll update Grim. Bottom line: Tech operations has just gone mobile. Hallelujah!"

Moreau stood there a moment as Valentina and n.o.boru faced him, resigned to their fate.

"What's the matter, Nurse Ratched? You're not happy to see me?"

"Thrilled."

"Sir, I am glad to see you. I have been thinking about a nickname for you, and I wanted to share it."

"You're not going to use foul language, Bruce, are you?"

"No, sir. Have you seen the movie Pulp Fiction Pulp Fiction?"

"Of course I have."

"You are Jules Winnfield, sir. You are a black hit man, but you don't have the Jheri curls. When you retire, you will walk the earth like Caine in Kung Fu Kung Fu."

"You bet your a.s.s I will." Moreau threw his arm over n.o.boru's shoulder. "Just don't call me Gra.s.shopper. Now, come with me. I got all kinds of heavy gear bags for you to load while I supervise. Then we're going to dress you up nice and pretty like a nurse."

As they went to Moreau's car, a silver four-door Mercedes (leave it to him to rent a Mercedes), Valentina activated her OPSAT and opened the channel to Hansen. "Ben?"

"You make contact with the runner?"

"Unfortunately, we did."

"What's wrong?"

Valentina took a deep breath and told him.

16.

CENTRE HOSPITALIER UNIVERSITAIRE REIMS, FRANCE.

ROMAIN Doucet was sitting up in bed, his leg wrapped in a heavy cast and elevated by a sling. His face was a mottled mess of purple and yellow bruises, and somewhere amid those venous flowers was a pair of dark, narrow eyes. Valentina could only imagine how much swelling there had been, but some of it had subsided. Admittedly, it was unnerving to see a man this imposing as battered as he was; it suggested that his attacker was either bigger and stronger or a whole lot smarter. Valentina suspected the latter to be true. Indeed, Doucet was a giant of a Frenchman, over six feet, to be sure, with a chest like the front b.u.mper of a pickup truck. You wouldn't call the things at the ends of his arms hands, but paws, and his pitch-black hair was matted as though he'd been rolling around on a thick carpet. Doucet was sitting up in bed, his leg wrapped in a heavy cast and elevated by a sling. His face was a mottled mess of purple and yellow bruises, and somewhere amid those venous flowers was a pair of dark, narrow eyes. Valentina could only imagine how much swelling there had been, but some of it had subsided. Admittedly, it was unnerving to see a man this imposing as battered as he was; it suggested that his attacker was either bigger and stronger or a whole lot smarter. Valentina suspected the latter to be true. Indeed, Doucet was a giant of a Frenchman, over six feet, to be sure, with a chest like the front b.u.mper of a pickup truck. You wouldn't call the things at the ends of his arms hands, but paws, and his pitch-black hair was matted as though he'd been rolling around on a thick carpet.

Behind Valentina, at a nurses' station walled in by gla.s.s, n.o.boru was presenting the four duty nurses with a stack of bogus paperwork he'd brought in from central administration. n.o.boru's English was very good, but his French was poor, which only added to the mayhem. The nurses were gaping at the reports, which included new work schedules for each of them, new sets of duties, and enough other incendiary material to keep them diverted for a week, let alone five minutes. The geeks back home must have had a good time composing those doc.u.ments--geeks enjoy wielding their intellectual power to p.i.s.s people off. Valentina ought to know--she was in their club and just needed to make other people realize that.

For now, though, she was back to the same old pathetic ploy: using s.e.x as a weapon to get what the team needed. She undid one more b.u.t.ton on her uniform, opened the gla.s.s door, and sashayed into Doucet's room.

Playing on the TV was a rerun of Magnum, P.I. Magnum, P.I. with Tom Selleck. Magnum's lips were moving, his mustache fluttering, but French was coming out of his mouth in a rapid fire that made him at once appear feminine and ridiculous. Doucet glanced away from the screen and abruptly beamed at her. The pig liked what he saw. "You're a new one." with Tom Selleck. Magnum's lips were moving, his mustache fluttering, but French was coming out of his mouth in a rapid fire that made him at once appear feminine and ridiculous. Doucet glanced away from the screen and abruptly beamed at her. The pig liked what he saw. "You're a new one."

"That's right, Mr. Doucet. My name's Nurse Ratched."

In fact, that was the name Moreau had placed on her ID badge; he'd planned that from the beginning. Valentina reached around and drew the curtain around his bed . . . so they'd have privacy.

Doucet raised his brows. "What do we have to do now?"

"That's up to you, sweetheart." Valentina did her finger-to-the-lips thing that all the dogs loved.

The look in his eyes made her want to put a shotgun to his crotch and pull the trigger.

But she had work to do.

"You're not a real nurse."

"And I thought you were a stupid man."

"Who hired you?"

"They did. They want me to make you feel better."

He started to chuckle. "They're good friends." He stopped and winced through the pain.

"Oh, my poor baby. What happened to you?" She crossed around the bed and stared at his leg.

"Skiing accident."

"That's not what they told me." Valentina undid another b.u.t.ton, leaned back, and showed him more of her cleavage.

He gasped and said, "What did they tell you?"

"Something about a very bad man who came to see you." She moved toward the bed, leaned down, undid the clip and let her long hair fall into his face.

He breathed in the scent and said, "I'm going to find him. And I'm going to kill him."

She pulled back. "You're not afraid?"

"No."

"You're a strong man. I wish we weren't here. I wish we were someplace else."

"Me, too."

"This man who did this to you . . . he must be so strong."

"No, he's just a smart b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Very smart."

"How're you going to find him?"

"I'm not sure."

"In my business, I know a lot of people on the street. Maybe I can help you. Is there a reward?"