Rasputin's Shadow

42

We charged into the restaurant with one thought ringing through my head.

We’re late. We’re too damn late.

“Call Gaines,” I told Jaffee as we paused at the door, referring to his partner, the SSG who was watching the Green Dragon’s service entrance in the alley out back. “Make sure he’s got the back covered. And tell him to stay sharp.”

I quickly took in the huge room as he alerted his partner. It was still rammed with people, even this late. I tried to avoid causing a panic and held my gun down by my thigh, its barrel running along my leg, minimizing its profile. It still made the patrons closest to me recoil at seeing it. I had my other hand out and flat in a stilling motion, flicking them a “Keep calm” look while trying to stay alert to anything threatening coming my way.

“He’s on post and clear,” Jaffee said.

I nodded through my concentration. It was tough to pick out any one suspect through the crowd, so I just pushed forward through the narrow aisles, heading for the swinging doors and the stairwell in the kitchen, Aparo and Jaffee close behind.

I was just going through the kitchen door when I saw them coming out of the doorway that led to the stairs: Ae-Cha, her face locked in stoic concentration, and a well-dressed guy with gelled-back hair and glasses right next to her. She didn’t look like she was having a great time, which might have had something to do with the firm grip he had on her upper arm.

Her eyes caught mine in the same instant his did.

The few seconds that followed were a blur.

IT WAS UNREAL, though it didn’t start out as such.

The first minute or so after Bon had first flicked the switch was notable for nothing more interesting than the Uzbek grabbing his head as though he’d just gotten a migraine and the tall woman almost toppling to the ground and falling into the arms of the younger guy.

Bon had burst into hysterical laughter at that, but then, in Jonny’s experience, Bon had a pretty low entertainment threshold.

Jonny tried to process what he was seeing.

“What the hell’s going on?” he shouted to Shin.

“I don’t know,” Shin answered. “But it’s messing them up.”

Jonny watched in fascination as the crowd took on a confused, lethargic stance. Some of them sat down and stared out, others looked around as if they were lost. Jonny wondered if Sokolov’s aim at the exchange hadn’t been some kind of disorientation, and though it was interesting, it wasn’t the kind of damage he had in mind. After a moment of watching the crowd squirm with discomfort, he turned to Shin.

“Try another one,” he yelled to Shin.

Shin hit the second setting.

Nothing happened at first, then one by one, the people outside Lolita were clutching their stomachs and curling up with pain. Jonny watched in rapt attention as a woman dry-retched like a demented cat trying to heave up a mammoth hairball. It was beyond freaky. After a few moments, he tore his attention away and excitedly told Shin, “Another one.”

Shin hit the third preset.

Then things got interesting.

The crowd outside the restaurant looked like they were coming out of their discomfort. They were straightening up, talking to each other curiously, clearly mystified by what had happened. Then an argument started between the young guy in the ripped jeans and the wiry Uzbek. The ripped guy poked the Uzbek in the chest, the Uzbek pushed him back-then the ripped guy unleashed a ferocious right hook out of the blue onto the head of the wiry Uzbek.

Next to them, the dark-haired woman had launched herself at the shorter man’s attacker, raking two sets of nails down his face and driving a knee full-force into the poor bastard’s groin.

Other fights were brewing quickly, and within two heartbeats they escalated wildly. A bald, middle-aged pimp stubbed out his cigarette on the tall woman’s back while her nails were still embedded in the young guy’s face. At the same time, a huge steroid-bodied thug had swung a lump-hammer fist into the stomach of the tattoo-necked guy standing next to him.

Jonny already had one leg swung over the seats from the back of the van as he clambered into the front seat for a better view, more than happy with the preset for the time being. On the bench next to him, Bon was clapping in delight and laughing uncontrollably, while in the back, Shin was watching it all through the open doorway in silent terror.

Lightning-fast, Neck Tattoo pulled out a knife and jabbed it into the big lug’s kidney. Meanwhile the young guy had managed to fight off the woman and land a vicious kick between her legs. She collapsed to the ground, her screams so loud that Jonny could hear them-albeit faintly-through the ear protectors.

Her screams were muffled completely by the long-haired guy, who came crashing through the left-hand window and landed directly on top of her, blood pouring from a deep gash in his face.

Jonny couldn’t believe his eyes.

I SWUNG MY GUN up just as I shouted, “Everybody down!” as loud as I could.

Ivan was just as fast. He had his gun out before I’d even finished the second word, his arm pivoting up like it was on a spring release and locking onto us without overshooting by a single degree.

In that split second, I couldn’t shoot. Not with Ae-Cha there. And he knew it. I also knew he wasn’t prone to qualms or partial to having a chitchat before he started firing, so I dove to the right while shouting out my warning and took cover behind a food-prep counter just as the first bullet whizzed past me and plowed into the back of a heavily laden waiter who had paused to let me through before delivering his platter. I heard the rattle of his tray’s contents crashing through the swinging doors and the first panicked shrieks from inside the restaurant just as two other rounds pounded the side of the unit behind which I was crouched.

The kitchen staff freaked out and scrambled for cover as our shooter rapidly moved on to his other targets. Pots and plates were crashing to the ground as I turned and saw Jaffee take one in the shoulder by the base of his neck as he was darting to safety. I couldn’t see Aparo anywhere, then I heard him yell, “Everyone stay down!” followed by “Sean, you okay?”

“Still in one piece!” I yelled back as I gripped the gun in two hands while pumping air into my lungs, debating when to stick my head out from behind the counter and risk having Ivan carve me that third eye he seemed to relish.

“Jaffee’s down,” Aparo rasped.

“I saw,” I shot back over the pandemonium of screaming and fleeing patrons coming from the restaurant.

“I’m calling it in,” he said.

We needed an EMS team here pronto, but backup wouldn’t help with Ivan. This was going down right now, fast. I felt shackled. There was no point in me swinging out firing-I wasn’t going to risk hitting Ae-Cha, and all I’d be doing is presenting Ivan with my non-Kevlar-balaclavaed self.

I heard noise from their direction, and risked a peek to see the shooter hustling Ae-Cha toward the exit. I lined up a shot, desperately looking for just a couple of clear inches of any part him-head, shoulder, arm-any flesh of his that I could hit to unravel his tight hold of the situation, but he was being too careful to give me even that. I only got about three seconds to find that shot before his eyes spun back toward me, saw me, and his gun came back up and spat another careful volley of rounds at me, hammering the counters in front of and behind me a split second after I dived for cover.

I had war drums going off in my ears, and my breaths were coming in short and fast. I caught a glimpse of Aparo behind another counter, where he was tending to Jaffee. Frustration burned through his face, mirroring mine. I gestured to ask about Jaffee, he nodded positively. Then the ruckus from the other end of the kitchen got more intense and I gritted my teeth and I swung back out, my Hi-Power choked by a two-handed grip.

Then Ivan was at the back exit, Ae-Cha still shielding him from my aim. He saw me and let off a couple more shots before disappearing out the door and pulling her out behind him.

I sprang up and rushed the exit, flying down the aisle past huddled, cowering kitchen staff and dodging pots and spilled food all over the tiled floor. My heart spiked as I heard two shots before I even reached the door. I burst through it just as Ivan was tearing down the alley in Gaines’s Bureau sedan, with Ae-Cha next to him.

The SSG himself was lying on the ground, bent in permanent repose in front of a Dumpster with a big green dragon stenciled on it, a small dark hole in his forehead.