Better off Dead

Chapter 15

I got into position under the streetlight at 11:00 p.m., as agreed.

The evening was chilly. I’d been in the compound for three hours to make sure I was alone. I wished I had a coat. I only had on a T-shirt. A yellow one. It was huge. It was baggy, even on me. But it needed to be. It needed room to conceal the bag of fake blood I had taped to my chest. I couldn’t risk a coat hanging wrong and ending up with no bullet hole where there should be one.

The car showed up at 11:02. Its lights were on bright so I couldn’t tell the make or model, but I could see enough to know it wasn’t a Jeep. Not what I was expecting Fenton to be driving. If Fenton was driving. I couldn’t see inside, either. A moment later the front doors opened. Both of them. Two men climbed out.

Not what we’d agreed.

Both the car’s back doors opened. Two more men climbed out.

Definitely not what we’d agreed.

I sized the guys up. They were all between maybe six-one and six-three. Each around two hundred pounds. I didn’t see anything to worry me. But I was mainly waiting to see if Fenton appeared from the backseat.

She didn’t.

Either she’d been benched because Dendoncker opted for more firepower after losing two guys the day before. Or she’d been taken out of the game for good, if Dendoncker had seen through our ploy. I doubted any of the guys in front of me would know. Paranoid bosses don’t generally share insights with their wet boys. So I decided on a different approach. Whittle down the numbers and persuade the last man standing it’s in his interests to escort me up the food chain.

The last man standing wasn’t going to be the driver. That was for damn sure. He stepped forward and immediately launched into a dumb routine designed to get me into the car. That wasn’t going to happen. Not then, anyway. The guy realized he couldn’t bluff me so he changed tack. He tried to use force. He pulled a gun. That’s always a mistake when you’re within arm’s length. Or near it. Maybe he mistook size for slow. Maybe he was just stupid. Or overconfident. Either way I closed in fast, grabbed his wrist, and neutralized his weapon. Then I neutralized him with a quick, easy punch.

I retrieved the driver’s fallen gun in case the other guys were smart enough to attack together. They weren’t. The one in the center of the remaining trio was the next to try. He screamed like he thought that would frighten me, feinted a jab, then tried to land a punch in my gut. I blocked it and drove my middle knuckle into his biceps. I gave him the option to walk away. I figured that was only fair. He didn’t take it. He rushed back in with a wild crazy punch aimed at my head. I let it flail past, then immobilized his other arm. I gave him another chance. He repaid me by trying to kick me in the balls. He didn’t get close. I slammed my foot into his shin. Used his effort against him. The guy’s ankle broke. At least one bone. Maybe more. He screamed and hopped around for a second, then fainted when the severed ends of his bone touched together. Now I was down to two.

These guys tried to raise their game. They fetched ax handles from their trunk. The taller of the pair led off with a monster swing. He missed by a mile. Then his buddy weighed in. He started jabbing. Two feints to begin with, then he went for my gut. But he telegraphed it. I grabbed the ax handle, wrenched it out of his hands, spun it around, and smashed it down onto the top of his head like I was chopping wood.

The final guy panicked. He took a couple of wild swings but there was no hope of him connecting. He must have figured that out because he went for his gun. But like the driver, he was too close. I knocked the gun out of his hand. I grabbed hold of his neck. I started to outline his options. Then I heard a voice ordering me to stop.

It was Fenton. She emerged from the cover of the row of garages to my right. Her arms were stretched out and she was holding her gun with both hands. She was trying to resurrect our plan. But the last guy was standing between us. That wasn’t ideal. He was a witness now. He wouldn’t believe I’d been shot if Fenton’s bullet would have had to pass through him to hit me. I could have thrown him aside but that would have been suspicious, too. It would be more realistic to pull him closer. Use him as a shield.

I looked at Fenton. Glanced down at my chest. Figured she could see the right area. Or close enough, anyway. Taking the shot was the best bet under the circumstances. I willed her to do it. I saw her inhale and exhale. I braced myself for the sound. I felt a flick on my chest first, then cold dampness. I threw myself back. I’ve seen plenty of people get shot dead. Some crumple and end up like they’re asleep. Some fly through the air and end up in a contorted heap. I aimed for somewhere in the middle. I pushed my arms out wide, kept one knee raised, and snapped my head right back.

“Didn’t need me, huh?” Fenton was coming closer. “Don’t worry. There’s no rush. You can apologize in your own sweet time. Just make it good.”

“What the hell did you do?” The guy sounded mad. “Dendoncker wanted him alive. He had questions.”

Fenton paused for a moment. “Dendoncker wanted him alive? Huh. Well, if I hadn’t shown up this guy would have been the only one who was alive. Those three idiots are down and you weren’t far behind.”

I felt fingers on my neck. They were long. Slim. A little cold. I felt myself shiver.

“Anyway, he’s dead. No point crying about it.” Fenton reached around and pretended to check my back pockets. “Like I thought, no cash. It was a setup from the start. What an asshole. OK, I’ll call 911 and get the body picked up. You can call it in to Dendoncker. Throw me under the bus if you want. On one condition. You load up your buddies. I have a long walk back to my car after the ambulance shows up.”