knife.
Never let them come to you.
I screamed, hoping to disorient him, while charging the two or three steps toward him, focusing on his arm. I didn't care about the other guy yet. This one was the main threat.
Grabbing his raised wrist with my right hand, I kept moving. That turned his body to his left, his natural momentum helping me. My left hand then helped to spin him so he had his back to me, at the same time pushing him toward the stall. We stumbled into one of them, the thin chip board walls rattling as we grappled in the confined space. He went down on his knees by the toilet. There was no seat; it had probably been ripped off years ago and taken home.
Still gripping his right wrist, I leaped over his back and forced both my knees straight down onto the back of his head. There was no time to fuck about: There were two of these guys to deal with. Bone crunched on ceramic. I heard teeth cracking and his jaw grind under my weight, mixed with an almost childlike, muffled screaming.
I saw him drop the knife. My right hand scrabbled around on the floor in search, and closed around it. Only it wasn't a knife, but an auto jet an American one. I recognized the make and I knew what it did.
Gripping the automatic syringe in my right hand, I had four fingers clasped around the cylinder, which was about the size of a thick marker pen, and my thumb on the injection button, ready to attack the splashing feet and green rustling GoreTex behind.
Too late; the boy was right on top of me. He also had an auto jet I could feel the needle penetrate and then its contents emptying into my buttock; it was like a golf ball was growing under my skin.
I threw myself backward, crashing as hard as I could into his body, pushing him toward the urinals. The swell made us both stagger as the ferry tilted.
Once we'd banged against the white ceramic, his fists started to hit the side of my face from behind me as I kept him pinned in position.
He was even biting into my skull, but I couldn't really feel the outcome. The Autojet was having its own effect on me: rapid heartbeat, dry mouth, vision beginning to go hazy. I was sure it was mainly scopolamine, mixed with morphine. When it's injected into a body, the effect produced is a tranquilized state known as twilight sleep; this combination of drugs was formerly used in obstetrics, but was now considered far too dangerous, except when, like the British and American intelligence services, you're not too concerned about the patient's bill of rights. I'd done a few targets with this stuff, making it easier to drag them off to a 3x9. I'd never thought I would get the good news myself, but at least now I could personally endorse the product.
Everything was going into slow motion. Even his shouting against my ear was blurred as he bucked and twisted, trying to free himself from between me and a urinal.
Ramming the Autojet against the leg that was kicking out on my right, I depressed the button with my thumb. Automatically the needle sprang forward, punctured his jeans and skin, dispensing its juice. Now we were equal; it was just a case of who dropped first.
'Mother fuck!' Unmistakably American.
I couldn't get up enough strength to do anything but pin him there, using my legs to push my back against him. He dropped the Autojet, but I kept pushing him back against the urinal, my feet slipping on the wet floor as the ship bounced around, hoping that he would be the first to lose total control so I could get away. His ass was in the urinal now, and its contents were getting slopped over both of us as I fought to hold him there.
He was still trying to punch sideways at my face, and might have been doing serious damage for all I knew. The drugs had kicked in good style, depressing my central nervous system.
I bent my head down to avoid his punches as he jerked about as if he was having a fit. In front of me, in the stall, a blurred, black figure was slumped on the floor.
The toilet door must have opened. Not that I heard it-just the incomprehensible shouting as my legs started to lose the ability to hold me up in the swell.
I took a deep breath and must have sounded like a drunk as I looked round at the newcomers. 'Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!'
Even the American joined in: 'Fuck yooou!'
Their hazy, shadowy figures disappeared.
The American's legs were wobbling as much as mine now. My head was still trying to bury itself into my chest as he made wild grabs at my face, hoping to get at my eyes. He wasn't shouting any more but giving off loud moans, as if he'd lost the ability to form words correctly, and pulling on my ears and hair with whatever strength he had left.
I could hear his breathing above me. I threw my hands in the direction of the sound. He released his grip on my head and slapped them down.
My legs couldn't hold him in position any more, and I fell, first to my knees, then face down into the liquid swirling around the floor.
Feeling it slurp into my mouth, I knew I was on the way out. But as the American fell to his knees to my right, splashing more liquid over my face and snorting like a wart hog I knew I wasn't the only one. He sat back on his heels, resting against the urinal, fumbling to get his jacket zip undone. I couldn't let that happen-he could have had a weapon-so taking a deep breath that took in more swill off the floor, I started to crawl up him.
His hands tried pushing me off as he growled down at me. At least his hands weren't going for his pockets any more, just my face.
I managed to get my hands around his throat, shaking his head from side to side. He made a whining noise, like a two-year-old refusing food.
If only I could press one of my thumbs into the base of his throat, at the point just above where the two collarbones met and just below his Adam's apple, I could drop him-as long as his body was still capable of registering what was going on.
I got my hand down the top of his jacket, probing inside with my thumb until I found the bone and then the soft spot, then I pushed in with all my strength.
At once he began to come down with me as I sank slowly to the floor. He didn't like it at all. A quick, hard jab with two straight fingers or a key into this soft point can drop someone to the ground as quickly as if he's been given an electric shock.
He hit the floor, his legs still under him, bucking to free them like some frantic insect as I lay on top of him. He was choking now.
Wheezing, gurgling noises issued from his nose and mouth.
Trying to keep focus, and some sort of coordination, I ran a hand over his jacket pockets. Nothing. I tried to unzip the jacket, but my fingers couldn't grip the tab. As I pulled down they just fell away.
Still on top of him, watching his hair soak up the spilled contents of the urinal, I started feeling around his waist, wanting to find a weapon. My hands couldn't register if he was carrying or not; they refused to send any type of message to my brain.
I lay there knowing that I must get up, sure that he was thinking the same.
The other boy behind me in the stall started moaning and coughing, his boots scuffing the floor as he tried to move. With any luck he was more worried about his dental plan for the next few years than anything else.
Dragging myself to my feet, I staggered on the spot above the American, then my knees buckled and I collapsed on his head. Blood spurted from his nose as I pulled myself up on a urinal. He curled up on the soaking floor, still trying to reach out and grab my leg.
I had to get out of there and hide up for the next twenty minutes or so until I could get off the ferry. I wasn't going to black out: They wouldn't have wanted to carry a deadweight. The drugs would just make me like the Finns in the bar and make it easier to drag me to their car.
Stumbling up the stairs, I seemed to trip on almost every one. After about six attempts at pulling the door open I was back in a hallway.
The smell of smoke, the shouts of children, and the jingle of video games were all magnified in my spinning, dazed head. I was zigging while the rest of the world zagged.
I had to find myself a little spot where I could sit down and be no problem to anybody. That wasn't easy; I'd been fighting and rolling around in piss, and must have looked in a terrible state. Maybe I'd feign seasickness.
Staggering into a seating area, I made my way into the corner, slumping against the back of a seat before falling into it. The Estonian whose big bag had had to be whipped away before I fell on it shook his head knowingly,
