overalls, Tiny opened it, then pulled Hayward's ruined shirt aside with its blade, exposing her brassiere.
'Holy
Tiny gazed hungrily at Hayward's generous breasts. She swallowed painfully and made a move to cover herself with her buttonless shirt but Tiny shook his head, pushed her hands away, and traced the blade of his knife teasingly along the topline of her bra. Then--very slowly--he inserted the tip of the blade under the fabric between the cups. With a jerk, he brought the knife toward him, slitting the bra into two pieces. Hayward's breasts swung free to a hugely appreciative roar.
Hayward saw Pendergast rise, stumbling. Tiny was too preoccupied to notice.
Pendergast steadied himself, leaning heavily to one side. Then--with a sudden, almost imperceptible movement--he shifted his weight to the other side. The boat rocked, throwing Tiny and Larry off balance.
'Hey, easy now--'
Hayward saw a blur, a flash of steel; with a groan Larry doubled over, his clenched hand firing the gun blindly downward; there was a sudden gush of blood into the bottom of the boat.
Tiny twisted around to protect himself, sweeping the TEC-9 through the air, letting loose a long burst of fire, but the agent moved so fast the spray of bullets missed him. A sinuous arm whipped around Tiny's fat neck and jerked his head back, a stiletto at his throat; at the same time Hayward smashed the man's forearm, jarring the TEC-9 loose.
'Don't move,' Pendergast said, sinking the knife partway into the man's neck. With his other hand he neatly extracted his Les Baer from the man's waistband.
Tiny roared, twisting his huge bulk, pawing to get at Pendergast; the knife sank deeper, twisted, flashing; there was a small splatter of blood, and then a fresh stillness.
'Move and die,' said Pendergast.
Hayward stared, horrified, her own exposed condition momentarily forgotten: Pendergast had somehow managed to work the stiletto into the man's neck, exposing the jugular; the knife blade had already slipped underneath it, stretching it from the wound.
'Shoot me and it's cut,' Pendergast said. 'I fall, it's cut. He moves, it's cut. She's touched again--it's cut.'
'What the fuck!' Tiny screamed in terror, his eyes rolling. 'What's he done? Am I bleeding to death?'
A dead silence. All guns were still trained on them.
'Shoot him!' Tiny cried. 'Shoot the girl! What are you doing?'
Nobody moved. Hayward stared, transfixed in horror, at the sight of the bulging, pulsing vein, slick over the gleam of the bloodied blade.
Pendergast nodded toward one of the big side mirrors mounted on the gunwale of the boat. 'Captain, fetch that mirror for me, please.'
Hayward forced herself to move, covering herself as best she could and wrenching the mirror off.
'Hold it up for Tiny's benefit.'
She complied. Tiny stared into it, at himself, his eyes widening in terror. 'What are you doing... Oh, my God, please, don't...' His voice trailed off into a quaver, his bloodshot eyes wide, his huge body immobilized with terror.
'All weapons in Mr. Tiny's boat, there,' said Pendergast quietly, nodding at the empty vessel next to theirs. 'Everything. Now.'
No one moved.
Pendergast pulled the vein away from the bleeding wound with the flat of his knife. 'Do what I say or I cut.'
'You heard him!' Tiny said in a kind of terrified, squeaking whisper. 'Guns in the boat!
Hayward continued to hold up the mirror. The men, murmuring, began passing their guns forward and tossing them into the boat. Pretty soon the flat bottom of the boat was filled with an arsenal.
'Knives, Mace, everything.'
More things were tossed in.
Pendergast turned toward the skinny man, Larry, lying in the bottom of the boat. He was bleeding from a knife wound in his arm and a self-administered gunshot to his foot. 'Remove your shirt, please.'
After a brief hesitation, the man did as ordered.
'Pass it over to Captain Hayward.'
Hayward took the damp, odorous garment. Turning away from the surrounding boats as much as was possible, she removed her torn blouse and ruined bra and shrugged into the bloody shirt.
Pendergast turned toward her. 'Captain, would you care to arm yourself?'
'This TEC-9 looks suitable,' Hayward said, picking up the handgun from the pile of weapons. She looked it over, removed the magazine, examined it, slapped it back in. 'Converted to fully automatic. Fifty-round magazine, too. Plenty of rounds left to smoke everyone right here, right now.'
'An effective, if inelegant, choice,' said Pendergast.
Hayward pointed the TEC-9 at the group. 'Who still wants to see the floor show?'
Silence. The only sound was Tiny's choked sobbing. The tears streamed down his face, but he remained as immobile as a statue.
