The Bach Manuscript

Chapter 58

Ben stood looking at Kožul for what felt like a long, long time. He felt very cold, and he was breathing too fast. His heart was pounding in his throat.

He slowly sat down.

Madison Cahill was not moving.

Kožul glanced over at her as if she was a dead fly he’d just swatted, and gave a chuckle. ‘Told you I was handy with this thing, didn’t I? One shot, right in the heart.’

‘That was a good one, boss,’ Dragan said.

‘That’s why I’m always telling you, practice. Right? Practice is the only way you get to be a good shot like me. A few hours from now, Hope, you’re gonna be begging me to do the same to you.’

Ben made no reply. He kept glancing at Madison. The sight of her lying there was more than he could bear.

Kožul smiled. ‘Speaking of that, I can’t be hanging around here all day. Let’s get this show on the road. Dragan, go find that murdering bitch sister of yours, and drag her in here. She’s gotta be hiding in one of the other bedrooms. Break her fuckin’ arms if you have to, but I want her alive. Understand?’

‘I can do that,’ Dragan said, and headed for the door with a big grin on his face. Your lord and master tells you to go and fetch your sister for execution, you obey without hesitation. Dragan left the room, still grinning to himself.

Alone with Zarko Kožul, Ben stared at the mean little killer on the sofa opposite him. Looked into his eyes and saw nothing. Then he looked at Madison, and at the smear of blood on the wall, glistening red on red above her fallen chair and slumped body. He couldn’t have saved her, but even so he knew the guilt would weigh on him for however long he had left in this world. He looked at the gun in the hand of the man who had shot her. The icy coldness that had taken a grip at the core of his being was slowly spreading through him, numbing him all over. He felt his breathing slow and his heart rate settle. His muscles began to relax.

In a normal person, those were the physiological signs of the body getting ready for rest. For Ben Hope, it meant he was gearing up for action.

Ben stood up from his chair. He took a step towards Kožul.

‘I still got seven rounds in this thing,’ Kožul warned. ‘The first two are for your balls, you come another step.’

Ben said, ‘I’ve known a hundred men like you, Zarko. You like to leave the dirty work to others to take care of. You think you’re above attending to the small stuff. Like cleaning the house, looking after the helicopter. Basic maintenance.’

Kožul was glowering, but Ben could see he was already a little unnerved. ‘What is this lunatic bullshit you’re feeding me? Sit the fuck down and shut up.’

Ben didn’t sit. ‘Like that gun in your hand. I’ll bet you spend hours polishing your pretty little gold rocket, but you don’t like to get your hands all black and oily from the parts that matter, like scrubbing out the chamber, or cleaning all the crud off the feed ramp, or making sure the springs are all good and tight.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about, you stupid fuck?’

‘Just the fact that your gun’s jammed, Zarko. Don’t take my word for it. Try pressing the trigger and see what happens.’

Kožul stared blankly at Ben, and then pulled the trigger of the Walther.

Nothing happened. Not even a click. The mechanism was locked up solid.

Ben came on another step. ‘In the business, we call it FTE. Failure to eject. It’s the firearms equivalent of a motorway pile-up. Only happens with automatics, which makes some folks still prefer revolvers even in this day and age. Your slide isn’t fully closed, because there’s a live round jammed up hard behind the spent case that the ejector failed to pull out after that last shot. Now the slide is stuck partly open, the magazine won’t come out, and it’s going to take a couple of minutes of basic gunsmithing work to clear the jam. And you don’t have two minutes. See what I’m saying?’

Kožul stared at the gun in his hand as though Ben had just worked some conjuror’s trick and turned it into a live cobra. Ben took another step towards him.

‘So now you’re in an awful lot of trouble, Zarko. That’s what they call “the tables turning”. And you’d better pray that your flunky Dragan comes back soon, because I’m about to snap your filthy neck.’

Kožul threw himself forwards off the sofa and stood braced with his lips peeled away from his teeth in a snarl, showing jagged teeth. It was like being faced with a dangerous little predator, like a wolverine. He hurled the useless pistol at Ben.

Ben ducked the missile and came in fast and low. Fast, because even unarmed Kožul was a tough little nut to crack. Low, because even with his opponent standing Ben had to direct his strike at a downward angle. He drove an elbow into Kožul’s throat. Kožul rocked on his feet and let out a gurgling croak, but didn’t go down. He might have charged then, all muscle and gristle and hard little fists and snapping teeth, but Ben wasn’t going to allow him time to counterattack. He followed the elbow strike with a straight kick that drove Kožul’s right knee joint inwards and broke his leg with a crunch.

This time, Kožul did go down, and hard. Ben landed on top of him. Kožul was incredibly strong for his size, as powerful and feral and as uninhibited in his violence as a chimpanzee crazed on angel dust. He bucked and twisted and tried to hurl Ben’s weight off him, but Ben hung on tight and kept him pinned to the red carpet. Four more elbow strikes to the face, and Ben felt the teeth cave in. Then he grabbed Kožul by both ears and battered his head off the floor at least ten times, until Kožul was beginning to flag and his eyes were rolling back in their sockets.

Then Ben cupped a hand under Kožul’s chin and the other one at the back of his skull, and gave his head a sudden, sharp wrench, up and sideways to rend the vertebrae in his neck. Muscles like a bull from years of pumping iron didn’t save you from having the same weak spots as any other mortal man. Ben felt the neck break, gave it a couple more violent twists, then let Kožul’s dead body sink down limp.

He jumped to his feet and began running over to Madison. He was halfway to her when he heard the door open and Dragan Vuković’s voice saying, ‘Boss? I couldn’t find her, boss. I—’

Dragan halted mid-stride and mid-word, and froze in the doorway.