Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday 10:05 a.m.
The limousine had already left the Savoy and was headed down the Strand when Alex Novosty broke the silence. He leaned forward, pushed the button on the two-way microphone linking the passenger compartment to the driver, and spoke in Russian.
"Igor Borisovich, there's been an alteration in our plans. We will not be going to Westminster Union. Take us to Moscow Narodny Bank. The trading branch on Saint Swithins Lane."
"Shto ve skazale?" Igor, still nursing his head from the kidnapping, glanced into his rearview mirror. "The bank's main office is on King William Street. We always-"
"Just do as you're told." Novosty cut him off, then killed the mike.
Vera Karanova stared at him, her dark eyes flooding with concern. "But you said the transaction was scheduled for Westminster Union Bank, this morning at ten-thirty."
"That was merely a diversion." Novosty leaned back. "The actual arrangement is turned around. For security reasons."
"I don't like this." Her displeasure was obvious, and mounting. "There is no reason-"
"It's better, I assure you." He withdrew a white tin of Balkan Sobranie cigarettes from his coat, snapped it open, and withdrew one. Made of fine Turkish Yenidje tobacco, they were what he always smoked on important days. This was an important day.
As he flicked his lighter and drew in the first lungful of rich smoke, he thought about how much he hated the dark-haired woman seated beside him, dressed in a gray Armani business suit, sable coat, Cartier jewelry. The bad blood between them traced back over five years, beginning with a T-Directorate reshuffle in which she'd moved up to the number three slot, cutting him out of a well-deserved promotion. The rumor going around Dzerzhinsky Square was that she'd done it by making the right connections, so to speak. It was the kind of in-house screw- job Alex Novosty didn't soon forget, of forgive.
Their black limo was now passing the Royal Courts of Justice, on the left, headed onto Fleet Street. Ahead was Cannon Street, which intersected the end of Saint Swithins Lane. Just a few blocks more. After today, he fully intended never to see her again.
"We've arranged for the transaction to take place through MNB's bond trading desk," Novosty continued, almost as though to nobody in particular. "Michael and I have taken care of everything."
"Who approved this change?" She angrily gripped the handrest.
"I did," Novosty replied sharply. "We're in charge." He masked a smile, pleased to see her upset. The morning traffic was now almost at a standstill, but they would be on time. "After all, he still has the money."
"And for all you know he may be in Brazil by now. Perhaps that's the reason he and the woman disappeared last night, with the help of an accomplice who assaulted Igor Borisovich."
"Michael will be there," Novosty said. "Have no fear. He's not going anywhere till this is finished."
"After this is completed," she said matter-of-factly, "he will be finished. I hope you have planned for that."
Novosty glanced over, wondering what she meant. Had all the surprises been covered? He hoped so, because this deal was his gateway to freedom. The two million commission would mean a new beginning for him.
Wednesday 10:18 a.m.
Kenji Nogami sat upright at his wide oak desk, waiting for the phone to ring. How would Michael play it? Admittedly it was smart to keep everything close to the chest, but still. He would have felt better if Michael Vance, Jr., had favored him with a little more trust.
On the other hand, keeping the details of the operation under wraps as long as possible was probably wise. It minimized the chance for some inadvertent slip-up.
Yes, it was definitely best. Because he was staring across his desk at four of Tanzan Mino's Tokyo kobun, all dressed in shiny black leather jackets. They'd arrived at the Docklands office just after dawn, announcing they were there to hand-deliver the money to Tokyo. Jiro Sato had directed them to Westminster Union.
The four all carried black briefcases, which did not contain business papers. They intended to accomplish their mission by whatever means necessary. Jiro Sato, the London oyabun, had not been invited to send his people along with them this morning. He was now humiliated and disgraced, officially removed from the operation, on Tokyo's orders. The regional office had failed, so Tokyo had sent in a Mino-gumi version of the Delta Force. They clearly had orders concerning what to do with Michael Vance.
He didn't like this new twist. For everything to go according to plan, violence had to be kept out of it. There was no way he and Michael could go head to head with street enforcers. If Michael was thinking of doing that, the man was crazy.
He glanced at his gold Omega, noting that it read ten- nineteen. In eleven more minutes he'd know how Michael intended to run the scenario.
But whatever happened, he wasn't going to be intimidated by these kobun hoods, dark sunglasses and automatics notwithstanding. Those days were over. Michael had given him a perfect opportunity to start building a new life. He didn't care if all hell was about to break loose.
Wednesday 10:23 a.m.
"Polovena decyat?" She examined him with her dark eyes.
"Da." Novosty nodded. "They will be here at ten-thirty. That is the schedule."
He was feeling nervous, which was unusual and he didn't like it. Whenever he got that way, things always started going off the track.
They were now in the paneled elevator, heading up to the sixth floor of the Moscow Narodny Bank. The hundred million had been held overnight in the vault of Victoria Courier Service Limited, which was scheduled to deliver the satchels this morning at ten-thirty sharp. The location for the delivery, however, was known only to him and to Michael Vance. He wanted to be sure and arrive there ahead of the money. He also would have much preferred being without the company of Vera Karanova.
One thing you had to say for Michael: He'd arranged the deal with great finesse. He didn't trust anybody. Until he notified Victoria Courier this morning, nobody knew where the money would be taken, not even the Japanese banker Nogami. Still, the instruments were negotiable, leaving the possibility of trouble if the timing went sour.
He intended to make sure it didn't. The planning had been split-second up until now; this was no moment to relax his guard.
Yes, it was good he was here. As he studied Comrade Karanova, he realized that something about her was still making him uneasy. So far it was merely a hunch, but his hunches had been right more often than he liked to think.
He tried to push the feeling aside. Probably just paranoia. She obviously was here today for the same reason he was, to make sure the Soviet money was returned safely. She probably was also still worried about the protocol, but that problem was hers, not his. From today on, the KGB would have to work out their in-fighting back home the best way they could. The ground rules were changing fast in Moscow.
Besides, Dzerzhinsky Square was about to become part of a previous life for him. If he could just clear this up, get his commission, he'd be set. Forever. Enough was enough. Maybe he'd end up in the Caribbean like Michael, drinking margaritas and counting string bikinis.
The elevator door opened. Facing them were Michael Vance and Eva Borodin.
"Glad you could make it." Vance glanced coldly at Vera. "Right on time. The money arrives in exactly seven minutes."
She nodded a silent greeting, pulling her sable coat tighter as she strode past. The bank officials lined up along the corridor watched her with nervous awe. Even in London, T-Directorate brass had clout.
They moved as a group down the long carpeted hallway leading to the counting room. On this floor everything was high-security, with uniformed guards at all the doorways. Negotiable instruments weren't handled casually.
Wednesday 10:30 a.m.
An armoured van with V.C.S., Ltd. lettered on its side pulled up to the black marble front of Moscow Narodny Bank's financial trading branch on Saint Swithins Lane. Everything was on schedule.
"They're here." Eva was
watching from the narrow window. Saint Swithins Lane down below, virtually an alley, was so narrow it could accommodate only one vehicle at a time. Across was Banque Worms, its unicorn insignia staring out, its lobby chandeliers glowing. Nobody there even bothered to notice. Just another armored truck interrupting the view.
Then three blue-uniformed guards emerged from the cab and approached the rear doors from both sides, .38's in unsnapped holsters.
"Mr. Vance, they had better have the money, all of it." Vera stepped over to the window and followed Eva's gaze down.
"It'll be there."
"For your sake I hope so," she replied as she turned back.
"Just hang around and watch," Vance said.
Just one more day, he told himself. One more lousy day. We'll have enough of the protocol translated by tomorrow, the press package ready. Then we drop it on the papers and blow town.
From the hallway outside a bell chimed faintly as the elevator opened, a private lift that came directly up from the lobby. When he heard the heavy footsteps of the couriers, accompanied by MNB guards, he stepped over and quickly glanced out. The two blue-suits were each carrying a large satchel handcuffed to the left wrist. Obviously the third had stayed downstairs, guarding the van.
"This way." The heavy-jowled director of the MNB bond trading desk stepped out and motioned them in. The play was on.
Kenji Nogami's issue of Mino Industries debentures had been registered with the Issuing House Association the previous day. This morning they would be acquired by Vance, using a wire transfer between the Moscow Narodny Bank on Saint Swithins Lane and Westminster Union Bank's bond desk. After that there would be a second transaction, whereby Sumitomo Bank, Limited would accept the debentures as security for a loan of one hundred million dollars, to be wire-transferred back to Westminster Union and from there to Moscow Narodny Bank. Everything had been prearranged. The whole transaction would require only minutes.
Unless there was a glitch.
Vance had fully expected that Tanzan Mino would send a welcoming committee to Nogami's premises, which was why he'd arranged for the money to be delivered here at Moscow Narodny's side-street branch. He figured the Soviets, at least, would play it straight. KGB wanted its file closed.
Then too, Eva still had the protocol. Their back-up insurance policy.
"Mr. Vance." Vera Karanova watched as the two security men unlatched their satchels and began withdrawing the bundles of open cashiers checks and bearer bonds. "I want to recount these securities, now."
"There're double-counted tallys already prepared"-he pointed toward the bundles-"yesterday by the main branch of Moscow Narodny. The printouts are attached."
"That was their count," she replied. "I intend to make my own, before we go any further."
Which means time lost, he thought. Doesn't she realize we've got to get this cash recycled, those bonds purchased and in place, before Tanzan Mino's kobun have a chance to move on us? If the deal to acquire Ken's new Mino Industries debentures doesn't go through, giving us something to hold over the godfather's head . . .
She's literally playing into his hands.
"The instruments are all here, all negotiable, and all ready to go," he said, stealing a quick glance toward Eva. One look at her eyes told him she also sensed trouble brewing. "Now, we're damn well going to move and move fast. We credit the funds here, then wire them to Westminster Union. And by God we do it immediately."
"Mr. Vance, you are no longer giving the orders," she replied sharply. "I'm in charge here now. As a matter of fact, I have no intention of wiring the money anywhere. There will be no purchase of debentures. As far as I'm concerned, it has now been returned." She paused for emphasis. "But first we will count it."
"Vera, my love," Eva said, cutting her off, "if you try and double-cross us, you're making a very big mistake. You seem to forget we've got that protocol. What we didn't get around to telling you is that we've deciphered it."
"You-?"
"That's right. As it happens, I don't think you're going to like what it's got to say, but you might at least want to know the story before you read about it in The Times day after tomorrow."
Alex Novosty's face had turned ashen. "Michael, Tanzan Mino's people are probably headed here by now. Unless they go to the main office on King William Street first." He was nervously glancing out the window. "We're running out of time."
The game's about to get rough, Vance thought. Better take charge.
But before he could move, Novosty was gripping a Ruger P-85, a lightweight 9mm automatic, pulled from a holster under the back of his jacket. He'd worn it where the MNB guards would miss it.
The two Victoria couriers were caught flat-footed. Bankers weren't supposed to start drawing weapons. They stared in astonishment as he gestured for them to turn and face the wall.
"Michael," he said as he glanced over, "would you kindly give me a hand and take those two .38's? We really must get this party moving."
Vera Karanova was smiling a thin smile. "I don't know how far you think you will get with this."
"We seem to be working toward different objectives," Novosty answered. "Michael has a solution to everybody's problem. I regret very much you've chosen not to help facilitate it."
"The only problem he solved was yours," she shot back. "Mr. Vance devised what amounts to an enormous check kiting scheme. You two planned to perpetrate fraud. You're nothing better than criminals, both of you, and I intend to make sure you haven't also given us a short count."
"Comrade, fraud is a harsh word," Vance interjected.
"You are not as amusing as you think," she replied.
"Humor makes the world go round."
'This is not a joke. The negotiable instruments in this room are Soviet funds. I intend to make sure those funds are intact. There will be a full and complete count. Now."
She's gone over the edge, he told himself. She's definitely going to try and screw us, either wittingly or unwittingly. But who in the room is going to help her? That huddled group of Russian bankers now staring terrified at Novosty's 9mm? Not damned likely. She's improvising, on her own. But her little stunt could well end up sinking the ship.
The two couriers were now spread against the brown textured fabric of the wall, legs apart. He walked over and reached into the leather holsters at their hips, drawing out their revolvers. They were snub-nosed Smith & Wesson Bodyguards, .38 caliber. He looked them over, cocked them, and handed one to Eva.
"How about covering the door? I think it's time we got down to business and traded some bonds."
"With pleasure." She stepped over and glanced out. It was clear.
"What do you think, Alex?" Vance turned back. "Word's going around there's a hot new issue of Mino Industries zero-coupons coming out today. What do you say we go long? In for a hundred. Just take the lot."
"I heard the same rumor, this very morning," he smiled. "You're right. My instincts say it's a definite buy."
"Fine." Vance turned to MNB's jowled branch chief. "We'd like to do a little trading here this morning. Mind getting the bond desk at Westminster Union on the line? Tell Nogami we're good for a hundred in Mino Industries debentures, the new issue. At par."
"Michael." It was Eva's voice, suddenly alarmed.
"What?"
"We've got company. They look like field reps."
"Good God." Novosty strode to the door and looked out. A group of four leather-jacketed Japanese were headed down the hallway, two disarmed MNB guards in front. Also with them was Kenji Nogami.
Turning back, he looked imploringly at Vance. "What do we do?"
"Figure they came prepared." He waved toward Eva. "Better lose that .38. Put it on the table for now. Maybe we can still talk this thing through."
She nodded, then stepped over and laid her weapon beside the bundles of securities. Vance took one last look at the Smith & Wesson in his own hand and did the same. Even ex-archaeologists could do arithmetic.
All this time V
era Karanova had said nothing. She merely stood watching the proceedings with a detached smile. Finally she spoke. "Now we can proceed with the counting," she said calmly.
"Maybe you don't fully grasp the situation here, comrade." Vance stared at her. "Those gorillas aren't dropping in for tea. We've got to stand together."
She burst out laughing. "Mr. Vance, you are truly naive. No, you're worse. You actually thought you could sabotage the most powerful new global alliance of the twentieth century." Her dark eyes were gradually turning glacial. "It will not be allowed to happen, believe me."
My God, he realized, that's why she wanted to get her hands on the protocol. To deep-six it. She's been biding her time, stringing us along. And today she managed to stall us long enough for Mino's boys to figure out the switch. She's no longer working for T-Directorate; she's part of Tanzan Mino's operation. All this time she's been working with them.
"The negotiable certificates in this room will be delivered to their rightful recipient by his personal jet," she continued. "Today."
"Over my dead body." He found himself thinking it might well be true.
"No, Mr. Vance, not exactly. Your contribution will be more substantial than that."
He was speechless, for the first time.
The Russian bankers in the room were taken totally by surprise. Double-dealing KGB games had always been part of the landscape, but this was confusing in the extreme. Whose money was it anyway?
"Michael." Novosty's voice was trembling. "This cannot be allowed to happen."
"I agree. We've definitely got a situation here."
He glanced around to see the four Mino-gumi kobun poised in the doorway, all with H&K automatics now out of their briefcases. Kenji Nogami was standing behind them, his eyes defeated.
Novosty still looked stunned. The range of options was rapidly narrowing to none.
Vera indicated his Ruger. "You would be wise to put that away. Now."
"If they take these securities, my life's not worth a kopeck." Novosty seemed to be thinking out loud. "What does it matter."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
Remembering it all later, Vance could barely recall the precise sequence of events. He did remember shoving Eva back against the wall as the fireworks began.
Novosty's first round caught the lead Mino-gumi kobun squarely between the eyes. As he pitched backward, arms flailing, he tumbled against the others, giving Novosty time to fire again. With deadly accuracy he caught another in the chest.
Kenji Nogami had already thrown himself on the thick hallway carpet, safely avoiding the fusillade. The Russian bankers, too, had all hit the floor, along with the MNB guards and the two couriers.
Then came a shot with a different sound-the dull thunk of a silencer. Novosty jerked in surprise, pain spreading through his eyes. The silencer thunked again, and again.
It was Vera Karanova. She was holding a small .22 caliber Walther PP, with a specially equipped silencer. And her aim was flawless. Novosty had three slugs arranged neatly down the side of his head before he even realized what was happening. He collapsed forward, never knowing whose hand had been on the gun.
She's probably wanted to get rid of him for years, Vance thought fleetingly. She finally got her golden opportunity, the double-crossing bitch.
He briefly considered grabbing back one of the .38's and avenging Alex then and there, but he knew it would be suicidal.
"Alex, no!" Eva's voice sobbed.
"Both of you, hands on the wall." Comrade Karanova was definitely in charge.
"Michael," Eva said, turning to comply, "what happened to our well-laid plans?"
"Looks like too little, too late." He stretched beside her.
"What did she mean just now? About our 'contribution'?"
"Probably the protocol. My guess is she wants to see it destroyed. Let's hope that'll be the end of it. The godfather's got his money. And Alex's problem is solved permanently."
Now Kenji Nogami was entering the room, an island of Zen-like calm amidst all the bedlam.
"Michael, I'm so sorry." He stepped over. "When the money didn't show up as scheduled, they called Jiro Sato and he suggested they try here. There was nothing I could do."
Vance nodded. "That's how I figured it'd be played. We didn't move fast enough on this end. It was my fault."
"Too bad. We came close." He sighed. "But I'm not going to underwrite the rest of those bogus debentures. He'll have to kill me."
"And he'll probably do just that. The hell with it. You tried, we all tried. Now it looks like Tanzan Mino's scam is going to go through whether we play or not. You might as well save your own skin. With any luck, we can still sort out our end, but you-you're going to have to be dealing with that bastard for years to come. Think about it."
"I'm still deciding," he said finally. "Let's wait and see how things go."
"Alex opted for suicide. You shouldn't follow his lead."
"I'm not suicidal." He stepped back as Vera proceeded to pat them down. "I think very carefully about my options."
"Get the money." She was directing the two remaining Mino-gumi kobun toward the table.
"Gonna just rob the bank now, Comrade?" Vance turned and looked at her, then at the three bodies strewn on the floor. The kobun seemed to consider their late colleagues merely casualties of war. The dead men received almost no notice. "Pretty costly little enterprise, wouldn't you say. Not a very propitious start for your new era of world serenity."
"You would be advised to shut up," she responded sharply.
"I feel personally violated by all this." Nogami had turned to her and his voice was like steel. "As of this moment, you can put out of your mind any illusion I might cooperate further. This outrage is beyond acceptability."
"We did what had to be done," Vera said. "We still expect your cooperation and I do not think we will be disappointed."
"Then your expectation is sadly misplaced," he replied icily. His eyes signified he meant every word.
"We will see." She dismissed him as she turned her attention to the money. The two kobun had carefully removed their shiny black leather jackets now and laid them on the table. Underneath they wore tightly tailored white shirts, complete with underarm holsters containing 9mm Llamas. The automatics were back in their briefcases, positioned by the door. Stripped down for action, they were quickly and professionally tallying the certificates, one handling the open cashiers checks and the other the bearer bonds.
Guess they intend to keep a close eye on the details, Vance thought.
Well, screw them. We've still got the protocol. We've got some leverage left.
But he was having trouble focusing on the future. He was still in shock from the sight of Novosty being gunned down in cold blood. Alex's abrupt death was a tragic end to an exceptional, if sometimes dubious, career. He'd really wanted Novosty to make this one last score. The man deserved it. He was an operator who lived at the edge, and Vance had always admired players who put everything on the table, no matter which side.
Well, he told himself, the scenario had come close, damned close. But maybe it was doomed from the start. You only get so many chances to tempt the fates. Today everybody's number came up, Alex's for the last time.
Rest in peace, Aleksei Ilyich.
Then Vera turned back to them. "Now, I want the computer. We know it was moved to the house in Kensington, but our search this morning did not locate it."
So they were on to us from the start, Vance realized.
"Looks like you've got a problem." He strolled over and plopped down in one of the straight-backed chairs along the opposite wall. "Too bad."
"No, you have a problem." She examined him confidently. "Because if those materials are not returned to us, we will be forced to take actions you may find harsh."
"Give it your best shot," he went on, glancing at Eva and hoping they could keep up the bravado, "because we've got a few cards in our hand too. Forget the money-that's history now
-but we could still be in a position to blow your whole project sky high."
"You two are the only ones outside our organization who know about the protocol. That knowledge will not be allowed to go any farther."
"Don't be so sure. For all you know, we've already stashed a copy somewhere. Left word that if anything happens to either one of us, the package gets sent to the papers. Made public. Think what some premature headlines would do for your little project."
"We have thought about it, Mr. Vance. That contingency has been covered."
"Well, if I don't know what the other player's got, I tend to trust my own cards."
But why play at all? he suddenly found himself musing. Fold this hand and go for the next move.
Before leaving Crete he'd transmitted a copy of the protocol, still in its encrypted form, to his office computer in Nassau. At the time it'd merely seemed like prudence; now it might turn out to be a lifeline. One phone call and it could be transmitted back here this very afternoon. The magic of satellites in space. Knock out another quick translation and they'd only have lost one day. What the hell. Use that as a fallback position. Time, that's all it would take, just a little more time.
"But what does it matter? The game's up anyway." He nodded toward Vera, then turned to Eva, sending her a pointed signal.
"What was it Shakespeare said about discretion and valor," she concurred, understanding exactly what he was thinking.
"The man knew when to fish and when to cut bait."
"True enough. Shall you tell them or shall I?"
"You can do the honors."
She walked over and picked up her briefcase. "You didn't really think we'd leave it, did you, Comrade? So just take it and good riddance. A little gift from the NSA. Who says America's getting stingy with its foreign aid?"
Comrade Karanova motioned for the two kobun to take the case. "See if it's there."
As they moved to comply, Vance found himself wondering if this really was going to turn off the heat. Somehow it no longer seemed adequate.
"Hai so," he grunted through his teeth as he lifted it, "something is here." Vance noticed that two digits of the little finger on his left hand were missing, along with another digit on his ring finger. Good thing Ken was never a street man, he thought fleetingly. Guess bankers get to pay for their mistakes with something besides sections of finger.
"Then take it out," Vera commanded. "We are running out of time."
You've got that right, lady, Vance thought. Three men were just killed. That personal Boeing of Tanzan Mino's better be warming up its Pratt & Whitney's right now. London's about to get too hot for you.
One of the kobun withdrew the laptop. He placed it on the mahogany table, then unlatched the top and lifted it up, only to stare at the blank gray screen, unsure what he was supposed to do next.
Vera knew. She reached for the switch on the side and clicked it on, then stood back and turned to Eva.
"Call up the file. I want to see if you have really broken the encryption, the way you said."
"Truth time," she laughed, then punched up the translation.
Project Daedalus.
And there it was.
Comrade Karanova studied it a moment, as though not quite believing her eyes. But she plainly had seen it before. "Congratulations. We were sure no one would be able to break the encryption, not even you." She glanced around. "You are very clever."
"Okay," Vance interjected, "I'm sure we all have better things to do this morning. So why don't you take the damned thing and get out of here. It's what you wanted. Just go and we'll all try and forget any of this ever happened."
She flipped down the computer's screen, then turned back. "Unfortunately nothing is ever that simple. I'm sorry to have to tell you two that we haven't seen the last of each other." She paused, then continued. "In fact, we are about to become much better acquainted."
"What do you mean?"
"You once told me, back when we met on the plane from Athens, you would welcome that. You should be happy that your wish is now about to be granted. You both are going to be our guests."
"That's kind of you." He stared at her, startled. "But we can probably bear up to the separation."
"No, I must insist. You were right about the difficulties. Your death now would be awkward, for a number of reasons. Alex will be trouble enough to explain, but that is purely an internal Soviet matter. Moscow Narodny can cover it. However, eliminating you two would raise awkward inquiries. On the other hand, you represent a security risk to the project. Consequently we have no option. Surely you understand."
He understood all too well. This was the one turn he hadn't figured on.
Almost eight years. It had been that long ago. But what had Ken said? The Tokyo oyabun never forgot. What this really meant was that Tanzan Mino wanted to settle the score first hand. What did he have planned?
Vance had a sudden feeling he didn't want to know. It was going to be a zero-sum game. Everything on the table and winner take all.
The Uzi. The goddam Uzi. Why hadn't they brought it?
It was still back in Kensington, where they'd stashed it in the false bottom of a new suitcase. But if the Mino-gumi had been searching only for a computer, maybe they'd missed it. So Tanzan Mino's hoods could still be in for a surprise. Just make an excuse to go back.
Vera was aware an Uzi had been part of their deal for the limo, but maybe that fact had momentarily slipped her mind, what with all the important things she had to think about. Or maybe she'd assumed Alex had kept it, or maybe she thought it was still in the car. Whatever she thought, things were moving too fast now.
"I get the picture," he said, rising from his chair. With a carefully feigned nonchalance, he strolled over to the table. "Guess it's time we got our toothbrushes."
"You won't have to bother, Mr. Vance," Vera continued. "Your suitcases were sent to the plane an hour ago. We found them conveniently packed. Don't worry. Everything has already been taken care of."
Okay, scratch the Uzi. Looks like it's now or never. Settle it here.
He shot a glance at Eva, then at Ken, trying to signal them. They caught it, and they knew. She began strolling in the direction of Vera, who was now standing in the doorway, as though readying to depart.
"We appreciate the snappy service," Vance said. He looked down at the computer, then bent over. When he came up, it was in his right hand, sailing in an arc. He brought it around with all his might, aimed for the nearest Japanese kobun. He was on target, catching the man squarely in the stomach.
With a startled, disbelieving look the Japanese stumbled backward, crashing over a large chair positioned next to the table. The other kobun instantly reached for his holstered Llama, but by then Kenji Nogami had moved, seizing him and momentarily pinning his arms with a powerful embrace.
For her own part, Eva had lunged for Vera and her purse, to neutralize the Walther she carried. Comrade Karanova, however, had already anticipated everything. She whisked back the purse, then plunged her hand in. What she withdrew, though, was not a pistol but a shiny cylindrical object made of glass.
It was three against three, a snapshot of desperation.
We've got a chance, Vance thought. Keep him down. And get the Llama.
As the kobun tried to rise, gasping, Vance threw himself over the upturned chair, reaching to pin the man's arms. With a bear-like embrace he had him, the body small and muscular in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kenji Nogami still grappling with the other kobun. The computer now lay on the floor, open and askew.
Where's Eva? He tried to turn and look for her, but there was no sound to guide him. Then the kobun wrenched free one arm and brought a fist against the side of his face, diverting him back to matters at hand.
Hold him down. Just get the gun.
He tried to crush his larger frame against the other's slim body, forcing the air out of him. Focus.
But the wiry man was stronger than he looked. With a twist he rolled
over and pinned Vance's shoulders against the carpet. Vance felt the shag, soft against his skin, and couldn't believe how chilly it felt. But now he had his hand on the kobun's throat, holding him in a powerful grip while jamming a free elbow against the holster.
Cut off his oxygen. Don't let him breathe.
The old moves were coming back, the shortcuts that would bring a more powerful opponent to submission. He pressed a thumb against the man's windpipe, shutting off his air. A look of surprise went through the kobun's eyes as he choked, letting his hold on Vance's shoulders slacken.
Now.
He shoved the man's arm aside and reached for the holster. Then his hand closed around the hard grip of the Llama. The Japanese was weaker now, but still forcing his arm away from the gun, preventing him from getting the grip he needed.
He rammed an elbow against the man's chin, then tightened his finger on the grip of the Llama. He almost had it.
With his other hand he shoved the kobun's face away, clawing at his eyes, and again they rolled over, with the Japanese once more against the carpet. But now he had the gun and he was turning.
He felt a sharp jab in his back, a flash of pain that seemed to come from nowhere. It was both intense and numbing, as though his spine had been caught in a vise. Then he felt his heart constrict, his orientation spin. He rolled to the side, flailing an arm to try and recover his balance, but the room was in rotation, his vision playing tricks.
The one thing he did see was Vera Karanova standing over him, a blurred image his mind tried vainly to correct. Her face was faltering, the indistinct outlines of a desert mirage. Was she real or was he merely dreaming?
. . . Now the room was growing serene, a slow-motion phantasmagoria of pastel colors and soft, muted sounds. He tried to reach out, but there was nothing. Instead he heard faint music, dulcet beckoning tones. The world had entered another dimension, a seamless void. He wanted to be part of its emptiness, to swathe himself in the cascade of oblivion lifting him up. A perfect repose was drifting through him, a wave of darkness. He heard his own breathing as he was buoyed into a blood-red mist. He was floating, on a journey he had long waited to take, to a place far, far away. . . .
Book Three