The Darkest Day

TWENTY-TWO

Victor wrenched the giant’s head into a neck crank, not killing him but taking him out of the fight with damaged ligaments, torn tendons, ripped muscle, and hyperextended vertebrae. He heaved him forward, into Marte, turning to go for the one on the sofa as he sprang out of the seat.

Victor shot out a stomp kick at the guy’s leading knee. The leg folded backwards the wrong way. He collapsed on to the sofa, screaming.

A spinning roundhouse kick knocked the gun out of the hand of the guy with the Afro as he grabbed it before standing.

With his own gun lying useless in pieces, the second man at the table went for a takedown, but with no real technique, charging into Victor and going low, the top of his skull colliding with Victor’s abdomen, arms wrapping around his thighs.

Victor shoved the head down and to one side as he was pushed back, then, wrapping his arm around the guy’s head and locked off with a gable grip, put the guy into a face bar, his wrist bone tight across the guy’s nose and cheek. When Victor squeezed the head against his sternum the man screamed louder than the guy with the broken knee because the skull was thick and strong and could resist the enormous pressure Victor applied with the blade of his forearm, but the nose and cheekbone could not. The cartilage in the nose flattened first before the weak bone splintered and crushed and the prominent cheekbone cracked.

Victor threw the man to the floor and grabbed a seat cushion from the sofa to use as shield as the guy with the Afro attacked again, this time stabbing with a kitchen knife. The blade pierced straight through the foam cushion, and Victor folded and wrapped the cushion around the hand and wrist, trapping the knife and pulling the guy closer and into an elbow.

His head snapped back and teeth pattered the ceiling.

A sweep took him from his feet. He landed hard, semiconscious, face smeared in bright blood. Victor raised a foot to stamp his heel on to the guy’s temple, but instead lowered the foot back where it had been. Killing Marte’s men was not the plan, but resisting the instinct to finish him off tested Victor’s willpower. He’d been taught to always neutralise a threat on his terms if possible, and if not at the first available opportunity.

Now though his priority was to secure Marte’s cooperation. Killing his entire crew might encourage that, but it had an equal chance of securing defiance. And while those crew members were still alive they could be used as leverage in a way a corpse could not.

The Haitian appeared as unaffected by the violence as he seemed unafraid that no one stood between him and Victor. Which made him a good actor or insane. He was at Victor’s mercy.

‘How much money you want?’ Marte asked as he regarded Victor with an indifferent gaze.

Victor held the gaze. ‘To do what?’

Marte gestured at his five men, all alive but out of the fight and writhing in pain with crippling injuries. ‘How much do you want to go on my payroll instead of these useless fucks?’

‘You can’t afford me.’

Marte sat back in the chair and said, ‘Then what do you want?’

‘You know why I’m here. I’m looking for information. That’s all. I want to know about a woman. She goes by the handle Raven.’

‘No you don’t. That kind of knowledge will get you killed.’

‘We all have to die sometime.’

Marte said, ‘But why rush towards it?’

‘I prefer to meet death on my terms.’

‘Then you’re a fool if you believe you can decide your end.’

Victor shook his head. ‘That’s not what I said. And you’re avoiding the question.’

‘You have yet to ask me a question.’

‘Where is she?’

Marte smiled because he believed Victor had acquiesced too early, which made him feel in control of the conversation. Which was how Victor wanted him to feel.

‘Why would I even know? You think she trusts me? You think she trusts anyone?’

Victor said nothing.

Marte used a palm to wipe sweat from his face. Victor could feel the perspiration coating his own skin, unable to evaporate into the humid air.

Marte swallowed. ‘And what do I get in return for this information you desire?’

Victor said, ‘It’s more a case of what you don’t get.’

He looked at the five men moaning on the floor. Marte did the same, but with contempt. He sucked on his lower lip.

Victor said, ‘Do you still think I have no manners?’

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m two people,’ Victor answered. ‘I’m either no one or I’m the worst enemy you’ll ever have.’

‘The cartel runs this island. They protect me.’ He used a thumb to point at himself for emphasis.

‘Then where are they now?’

‘You can’t touch me,’ Marte said, defiant.

‘I can do whatever I choose.’

‘If you do, they’ll take your head,’ Marte sneered, drawing an index finger across his throat.

‘It’s right here,’ Victor said. ‘What are they waiting for?’

Marte reached for his packet of cigarettes.

‘Don’t,’ Victor said.

Marte looked up at Victor and then to the cigarettes. He kept his fingers on the packet for a moment in silent debate, but then withdrew the hand. Which meant Victor no longer needed to break it.

He took two steps and stamped down on the right hand of the guy with the Afro, who had been reaching for the gun Victor had kicked across the floor. The man wailed through his smashed teeth. Victor picked up the pistol and tucked it into his waistband.

‘I only want information about Raven,’ he said. ‘This never had to get ugly. I would have paid you well. You might even have gained yourself an ally in the process, which would have been particularly useful to you as you’re going to end up losing one.’

Marte considered this.

‘What’s to think about?’ Victor asked. ‘You don’t have a choice. Any delay, any withholding, is only going to end up being bad for you, not me. I have all the time in the world.’

‘She’ll kill me for betraying her.’

‘She won’t,’ Victor said.

Marte sneered again. ‘And why wouldn’t she? She demands loyalty. She will not forgive this betrayal.’

‘She won’t kill you because I’m going to kill her first.’

‘But why? What has she done to warrant your wrath?’

Victor said, ‘Does it really matter to you why?’

Marte looked at the ceiling and shrugged. ‘I suppose not. I doubt the reasons of a man like you would make any sense to me. I always liked her, though.’

‘I’ll tell her you said so if that makes you feel better.’

‘A little.’ Marte sighed and examined his hands, as if looking for some answer only they could give. When he looked back to Victor he said, ‘I don’t know where she is. She would never tell me that. So I can’t help you.’

‘You’re a fixer. She’s a killer. So you got her documents, passports, things like that. Yes?’

‘That’s right,’ Marte said.

‘I want the names of those identities. Copies or any photographs, if possible.’

The Haitian shook his head. ‘No copies. No photographs. She had me burn any evidence.’

‘And you kept nothing for insurance in case she turned on you?’

‘She would never turn on me.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘Because she has honour,’ Marte said. ‘Unlike you.’

Victor remained silent.

Marte studied him. ‘You’re really going to kill her?’

‘As sure as night follows day.’

‘And you believe you are capable of such a feat? People have tried before.’

Victor said, ‘Everything made of flesh can, and will, die. Raven is no different.’

‘You make it sound so simple. You make it sound so very easy.’

‘She’s not bulletproof, is she?’

Marte smirked, then nodded, to himself as much as Victor. ‘Okay, you win. I’ll write you a list. Every identity I’ve ever created or sourced for her. Will that do?’

‘If you miss out any names, or if any of that information proves false, or if you try and warn her —’

‘I know,’ Marte said with a heavy sigh. ‘I’m scared of her, yes. But now I’m scared of you more.’

Victor said, ‘Then you’re smarter than you’ve acted so far.’