morning. It hung there like the single digit sum to the chalkboard-crammed equation of his life. The kiss said everything that needed to be said. Suddenly, the floor seemed to be moving and he realized it was his legs wobbling beneath him.
“Nicholas,” the assassin said, breaking into Nick’s death dream. “I found two guns on the black man’s corpse. We both know who they belong to.”
Matt freed the wooden leg and motioned with his hand encouraging Nick to engage the killer in some dialog. The lipstick kiss evaporated.
“Nicholas,” Rashid said. “Is that your partner with you? Mathew?”
Rashid’s voice jarred him back to consciousness. The evil seeped through the door like toxic waste.
Nick’s heart felt as if it would burst through his chest. He forced himself to concentrate. He wasn’t about to accommodate his assassin with any concessions.
“Nicholas, you may as well speak. They will most certainly be your last words.”
Nick instantly went from resignation to anger. Fury built up inside of him like a bolt of adrenalin. He could practically see Rashid’s teeth showing through his shark-like grin.
“Rashid,” Nick said, “wipe that smile off your face.”
A small chuckle from behind the door. “Nicholas, I should have killed you in Istanbul.”
“You didn’t kill me in Istanbul because you couldn’t,” Nick said. “Just like now.”
A pop. The silenced bullet shot through the door and buzzed past Nick’s ear. Both agents hit the floor, their heads only a couple of feet apart. They scurried behind the sofa across from Ray.
“He’s being cautious,” Matt whispered. “We got lucky once. He won’t make that mistake again.”
“Or he’s relishing the moment,” Nick said. “Prolonging the pleasure.”
“Whatever he’s doing, we’ve got thirty seconds, maybe sixty if he’s in a sporting mood.”
Nick nodded. He pointed to the door. “How does he come in? Heavy, or slow?”
“He busts through, dives right and shoots around the room starting from his right.”
“Agreed.”
Another pop. This time the sound was louder. He was alternating guns. The bullet passed through the dilapidated sofa with little resistance. Rashid had them. Without return fire he would be on top of them in a matter of moments.
Matt gripped the table leg and got to a knee. He pointed at the door. “I’ll wait for him to barge through. He’ll see me first and fire, but I might get one swing in. It’s our only chance.”
Nick shook his head. “No. It’s suicide.”
“Of course it’s suicide. What, you think I was going to beat Rashid with a stick against his two guns.”
Nick thought a moment. Two guns. “You’re right. He’s got a gun in each hand.”
“Now you’re catching on. That’s why you’re the brains of the team.”
“How’s he going to turn the doorknob with a gun in each hand?”
Matt blinked. “What the fuck difference does that make? You see that thing, it’s barely hanging on its hinges.”
“Exactly,” Nick said, his voice growing stronger with each cogent thought. “He rams into that door with any momentum at all and it will give way.”
The both of them stared at the door.
“Nicholas,” Rashid’s voice sounded impatient.
“Okay,” Matt whispered. “What if I remove the hinges?”
“Yes,” Nick said. “He leans into it and it comes straight down. Rashid won’t expect it and for a moment, he’ll be exposed. Just a moment.”
Again a bullet spit through the flimsy door and this one plunged into Ray Seville’s chest. By the amount of blood hemorrhaging through his shirt, Nick could tell that the bullet had found his heart. The poor bastard never saw it coming.
Nick turned to Matt. “That’s precisely how much time you get. One moment. Don’t miss.”
Matt’s eyes had a glimmer of hope. As he crawled to the door with the table leg, he looked back and said, “Keep his attention toward you.”
Great, Nick thought. Just what he wanted to do. He shimmied to the left and cupped his hand over his mouth, aiming his voice to the left. “Rashid, where’s your friend, Kharrazi?”
As he’d hoped, the bullet missed to his left this time. It cracked through the frail sofa like it was made out of balsa wood. He rose up to see Matt working on the bolt in the top hinge of the door. He couldn’t tell what he was using. A pen? It appeared to be moving.
“Nicholas,” Rashid said. “Let’s be reasonable men. Open the door and I will make it quick. You and your partner will never feel a thing. You have my word.”
Matt had the first bolt in his hand now and was working on the middle one.
“That’s a fascinating offer,” Nick said. “Can I get that in writing?”
There was silence. Nick cursed his use of sarcasm. He took short, quick breaths and waited for the worst. Matt pried loose the middle hinge and Nick watched him apply pressure on the door to keep it upright.
An onslaught of bullets blitzed into the small room forcing Nick to cover his head and duck below the sofa. He squeezed his eyes shut as he got peppered with shards of splintered wood and fabric. The spray of debris was so dense, it actually heated up the room. He knew that the barrage was tantamount to the finale of a Fourth of July fireworks display. Rashid was simply clearing the way for his grand entrance. It would be all over very soon now.
There was a pause. In the silence, the room seemed to creak from duress. When Nick opened his eyes, it was dark. For a split second he thought he’d finally caught a fatal shot. Then he realized that one of the bullets had popped the fluorescents and left them in complete blackness. It was something Nick would have done himself had he been thinking clearly. Which he wasn’t.
He couldn’t see Matt, just the filtered light that outlined the doorframe and two tight circles created by the bullet holes. Nick had to make sure Rashid burst through the door with his shoulder. He couldn’t afford to have the terrorist become cautious and test the doorknob. He wanted to give his partner a signal and let him know Rashid was coming, but in the darkness it had to be verbal. He prayed that Matt was finished with the hinges.
Nick took a deep breath and shouted. “Hey, Rashid. How’s that ear of yours doing?”
It was the equivalent of waving a red flag in front of a snorting bull. And it worked. An instant later the door toppled straight down with a thud and the assassin stood frozen in the doorway. He was leaning backward and off- balance. It was human nature to recoil from the unexpected. But Rashid Baser was more animal than human, so when Matt came out of the dark with the table leg, he was a step too late. Rashid caught the dowel with his forearm and deflected the blow.
Rashid and Matt were clutched in a fierce embrace. Matt had done the smart thing and wrapped himself around Rashid before the assassin could fire either gun.
Nick needed to get to Rashid, but his legs were lead weights. He lurched forward and focused on the only thing his eyes could see-Rashid’s silencer. It was loosely aimed at Nick, but Rashid was too busy dancing the violent shuffle with Matt. Both of them were up against the wall, head-butting each other back and forth.
Just as Nick was about to reach out for the gun, Rashid found him and aimed at his head. Nick was no more than three feet away, but he might as well have been on the moon. He wasn’t going to reach the gun in time.
Rashid’s lip curled upward and his face glowed with anticipation. His arm was fully extended now and marksman straight.
Nick sucked a quick breath.
Rashid pulled the trigger.
Nick’s legs faltered as his entire body seemed to spasm.
Rashid pulled the trigger again and again.
The lipstick kiss flashed across Nick’s mind as he waited to collapse. Only he couldn’t feel the shot. Was this how it happened? Was his body protecting him from the pain and sending him into shock?
When he looked up, he realized that Rashid’s silencer wasn’t spitting out bullets. There was just the small click of the hammer behind an empty chamber. Rashid had committed the killer’s mortal sin. He’d lost count of his rounds. Maybe he thought he didn’t need to know. He’d had two guns and plenty of time to reload. Maybe Nick had infuriated him enough to hasten his entry into the room.
