Better Off Dead: (Victor the Assassin 4)

by WOOD TOM

  He said, ‘What’s mine again?’

  They held each other’s gaze for a long time until he was aware of a waiter at his side, who said, ‘Can I get you anything, sir?’

  Victor would have said no but the waiter was not the one who had come over before. This one spoke with a South African accent.

  The man added, ‘Don’t even think about it, sport,’ before Victor could make a move. He heard the soft click of a hammer cock. ‘Unless you want me to shoot you in front of all these nice people.’

  Anderton was shaking her head, the faux fear and anger replaced by genuine mirth. ‘You really thought you could trick me, didn’t you? For shame.’

  SEVENTY

  As Gisele stood outside Lester’s office, frantically thinking about how to get through the locked door, the door of a nearby office swung open, startling her. A man exited, carrying a basket of cleaning products – sprays, brushes, cloths and such. He was short and thin, wearing the uniform of the cleaning company that serviced the offices.

  Gisele controlled her initial surprise and fear and smiled at him. He smiled back.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, ‘don’t suppose you have a key to this office?’ She pointed at Lester’s door.

  The man continued to smile and nodded, clearly not understanding English, then went on his way.

  Another door opened further along the corridor and she heard the voice of one of the senior barristers talking on a mobile phone. Desperate to make herself scarce before he appeared she hurried to the end of the corridor, where there were two doors, one marked ‘hommes’ in gold paint, the other ‘femmes’.

  There were five cubicles opposite a row of sinks. It was kept spotlessly clean and had all kinds of environmentally friendly hand soaps, sanitisers and moisturisers lined up on the shelf behind the sinks. She went into a cubicle, dropped down the seat, locked the door, and sat down. What now?

  She had failed at the first sign of difficulty. She needed his help, but wanted to do this on her own. She wanted to succeed. She had to do her part while he did his.

  He hadn’t told her exactly what he was doing, offering only vague assurances. He had been trying to spare her the uncomfortable details, she knew. She would never approve of his methods, but she had survived this far when by all rights she should have died several times over. She had known him for little more than a day but he was the best friend she could ever hope to have because he was sacrificing everything for her. He judged her for nothing. Her faults mattered not to him. He didn’t care that she was self-centred and moody, and yes, somewhat spoiled.

  He was fearless and indomitable. She wanted to be like that. She couldn’t imagine him weak or hurt or not knowing exactly what to do in any situation. He wouldn’t feel defeated now. He would get the job done. He would act. When they had been trapped in the hotel room he had known straight away what to do.

  Her eyes widened. The idea came to her in a sudden, wonderful instant. Remembering what had happened at the hotel was the catalyst, but she thought of the fire-escape plan near the lifts and knew it would work.

  She left the toilets. She didn’t know where to find what she was looking for, which embarrassed her a little – she vowed to be more responsible in future – but she found one soon enough. She paused for a moment. The alarm switch was fixed to the wall of a long corridor lined with doors leading to the offices of the senior personnel. What if one of them was working?

  Gisele backtracked and found another switch in the open-plan area. Perfect.

  She took a deep breath, fed her fingers into the gap, gripped the lever, and pulled.

  The blaring wail startled her. It was louder than she had imagined.

  Knowing she couldn’t afford to hang around, she hurried over to her desk, lowered herself to her knees and crawled beneath it. She counted off the seconds in her head, having calculated she needed to hide for at least a minute.

  On sixty, she crawled out and rose to her knees first, so she could peer out over the top of her desk. No sign of anyone. The alarm made it impossible to hear even her own footsteps.

  Walking fast, she made her way to the reception area. No receptionist. Caroline had followed procedure and headed down to the lobby. She would be waiting outside in the cold now. Gisele hoped she wasn’t too cold.

  She had no idea where it would be, so began with the bottom drawers of the reception desk, knowing that was how burglars opened drawers – bottom to top. Frustratingly, she found it in the top drawer: a ring of spare keys.

  There had to be twenty of them. It was impossible to know which would open Lester’s office, so she took the entire set. The weight surprised her. She rushed back the way she had come, the alarm blaring in her ears the whole time.

  The thirteenth key Gisele tried turned out to be the right one.

  He would be proud of her.

  The Range Rover came to a stop. Victor heard the engine turn off and doors open and footsteps. The drive had been a short one, and he had spent each and every second working through his options – planning and strategising. So far, there was no workable course of action because Anderton had had one of the mercenaries handcuff him before bundling him into the boot. He’d traced every inch of the space around him for something to use as a pick or shim, but they were too thorough to have left anything he might be able to make use of.

  The boot opened and light spilled inside, making him wince. Anderton came into view a moment later, her green eyes regarding him with something between curiosity and contempt. Hands grabbed him and hauled him out.

  His eyes moved, taking in the positions of the mercenaries – numbering five – Anderton, the two Range Rovers and the vast empty space of the aircraft hangar around them. The fluorescent lights were bright and the air was cold.

  ‘Where is she?’ Anderton asked as she turned to face him.

  The South African mercenary remained out of Victor’s line of sight, but he kept track of his position by listening to his footsteps. He was standing a couple of metres to his seven o’clock, in between Victor and the door they had entered through.

  Victor didn’t answer the question. His gaze swept over the four mercenaries who stood before him. None had weapons drawn but he knew they were armed. Behind them, the second Range Rover was parked. Then, at the far side of forty metres of empty space, the exit. He pictured breaking Anderton’s neck, but with a gun drawn behind him he would be dead in seconds if he tried.

  ‘I’m waiting,’ she said.

  ‘Get used to it.’

  She smiled and her eyes diverted for a moment and she nodded.

  Pain exploded through Victor’s brain as the South African struck him on the back of the skull with a handgun. His vision blackened and he dropped to his hands and knees, feeling the world beneath his palms rocking and shaking. He vomited.

  ‘Careful,’ Anderton said. ‘I don’t want him killed so soon.’

  ‘Apologies,’ the South African replied. ‘He’s weaker than I expected.’

  The blackness slowly retreated from before Victor’s eyes and the ground came into focus. He gasped and used the back of his hand to wipe the ropes of vomit hanging from his mouth. He didn’t have the strength to stand.

  Anderton stepped closer and her snakeskin boots entered his line of sight. ‘You know how this works, don’t you?’ Her voice was soft, almost sympathetic. ‘You know you’ll tell me eventually, so why go through the pain first?’

  Victor spat to clear his mouth. ‘There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me talk.’

  ‘We both know that’s untrue. You’re just too stubborn to accept it. Don’t be that man. You’ve done so well up until now. You’re a professional. Don’t end up bloody and begging. Let’s end this in a civilised manner. Remember when we made that wager?’ She squatted to her haunches so he could raise his head enough to look her in the green eyes. ‘I’d say I’ve won, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Victor said.

  ‘Where?’ Anderton said.


  He spat on a snakeskin boot.

  She sighed. ‘Your choice.’ She stood and stepped back. He heard her say, ‘Gentlemen, over to you.’

  Soles scraped on the ground and shadows fell over him. Then it began.

  He tucked himself into a ball and covered his face and head as best as he could as the blows came from all angles. Kicks landed against his ribs and hips and arms. Punches rained down on every exposed part of his body. A heel stamped down on his left ankle. An elbow caught him above the right eye. A fist pushed through his guard and his vision blackened again and his body slackened and he didn’t have the senses left to continue protecting himself.

  It became impossible to feel the individual hits as the pain became one horrific mass and his brain struggled to cope and his consciousness began to slip away.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Anderton said. ‘He’s no use to me as a vegetable.’

  Victor wheezed and coughed, struggling to breathe, bruised ribs resisting expanding. He tasted blood and saw little more than smudged colours and blurred shapes. Sounds were quiet and distorted, but he recognised Anderton’s voice:

  ‘Not so clever now, are you?’

  He couldn’t respond even had he wanted to.

  She said, ‘Where?’

  Victor groaned by way of an answer. His mind still worked even if his body did not. While she was questioning him they weren’t beating him. He didn’t yet know how much damage had been done, but he knew his body couldn’t take another assault. He had to stall. He had to recover. More importantly, Gisele needed time.

  ‘Let me ask him,’ the South African said and Victor saw a glint of brightness among the colours and shapes and knew a knife had been drawn.

  ‘Is that what it’s going to take to make you talk?’ Anderton asked Victor.

  Her face became clear through the fogginess. He met her eyes. ‘I’ll… never… talk.’

  ‘You know what? I think I believe you.’

  The South African said, ‘I promise he’ll change his mind within two minutes. Won’t you, sport?’

  Anderton stroked her bottom lip. ‘Maybe we don’t have to go there.’

  Victor held her gaze.

  ‘Maybe he’s already told me everything I want him to.’

  Victor didn’t blink.

  ‘Let me cut him,’ the South African said.

  ‘No,’ she replied and he shrugged and backed off. ‘I have this under control.’ She looked down at Victor. ‘I have to say I wasn’t confident that you were really coming to meet me. I wasn’t convinced you would take the bait and come in Yigor’s place. Not because I doubted my own abilities to manipulate you, but because I didn’t believe you would leave Gisele on her own. After all you’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours I thought you would never leave her defenceless.’

  Despite the agony that wracked his body, Anderton’s words hurt more.

  She said, ‘Even if you believed you were tricking me, not the other way around, you must have known it was a dangerous course of action. Without you, Gisele has no one. Yet you risked that to meet me? Flattering, I suppose. You put both your lives in danger just to chat with little old me.’ She placed a hand on her chest, as if overwhelmed by a compliment.

  Victor kept his expression even. If ever he had to hide his thoughts, now was the time.

  ‘For what possible gain?’ she continued. ‘To learn my name? Really? That was important enough to risk everything for?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. You haven’t survived until now by being so foolhardy. So, why this sudden turnaround? Why take such a considerable chance? Why did you want to meet me here?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘because you didn’t want me elsewhere. That’s it, isn’t it?’

  She waited for an answer she didn’t receive. He knew she would see through any lie.

  But his silence seemed to say as much. ‘Oh, now I understand. You knew the meeting was a set-up. You knew. But you came anyway. You walked straight into the trap because it guaranteed my presence and the presence of my men. Obviously, you didn’t expect to get captured, but you wanted us all here to deal with you so they wouldn’t be available to deal with Gisele. This is nothing more than a distraction.’ She tapped her lip. ‘But why is that necessary when we don’t know – sorry, yet know – where she is? Or do we? She must be somewhere we’ve been watching, hence the necessity to draw us here away from it. You wouldn’t go through all this for her to sneak back home and pick up her favourite blouse, would you? No. You’d only do this if it was really worth it. You’d only do this if you were working towards an endgame. Bingo. She’s going after the case files, isn’t she?’

  ‘It never had to come this far,’ Victor said. ‘Gisele didn’t know anything. She didn’t know your name, despite what Lester Daniels told you. If you’d have left her alone then you would have been safe.’ He smiled at her. ‘Instead, trying to protect yourself is the very thing that will bring you down.’

  Anderton’s jaw tightened. She rose and turned to face the South African. ‘Get to the law firm. She’s there, right now.’

  ‘Let me kill this one first,’ the man said back.

  ‘When you have the girl. If you don’t get there in time, we’ll need him to call her.’

  ‘Trust me,’ the South African said, ‘you don’t want to keep this troublemaker alive.’

  Anderton said, ‘I know what I’m doing. He’s done. You three, go with him. Now.’

  Victor heard the four men hurry away, leaving one remaining mercenary with Anderton.

  He looked up at her. ‘I’ll never make that call.’

  She used the heel of a snakeskin boot to roll him on to his back. He was able to focus enough now to clearly see the smugness on her face. ‘Again, I believe you. I could have Sinclair slice you up to within an inch of your life and you still wouldn’t give her up, would you? It’s really quite sweet. If my life and liberty were not at stake, I could cry. I never knew hired killers could be so honourable.’

  Victor remained silent.

  ‘But I don’t need to do anything to you, do I? A moment ago you told me your every move without uttering a single word.’ She smiled her serpent’s smile. ‘You’ve played a good game so far, I’ll give you that. But I’m afraid you’re simply not in my league.’

  SEVENTY-ONE

  Victor heard one of the Range Rovers driving away, tyres squealing under the hard acceleration. The law firm was maybe ten minutes’ drive through London’s busy streets at this time of day. Gisele would be nowhere near finished by then, let alone out of the building.

  ‘Rogan, don’t take your eyes off him until I get back,’ Anderton said to the remaining mercenary. ‘I mean it. Not for a second.’ Then, to Victor: ‘Just in case you’re not as hurt as you seem. I have no intention of underestimating you as you did me.’

  Victor looked away.

  The mercenary called Rogan said, ‘It’ll be a pleasure, ma’am.’

  Anderton winked at Victor and then approached the second Range Rover, the footsteps of her snakeskin boots echoing around the vast, almost empty space. Victor watched the vehicle drive out of the hangar and disappear into the night. He didn’t know if she was going to join Sinclair and the other mercs, or heading somewhere else. Victor lay on the floor and thought about Gisele in the law firm, alone and vulnerable, with no idea people were on the way to kill her. He’d failed her. He’d failed her mother.

  He refused to give up. While he breathed, it wasn’t over.

  Every inch of his body seemed to throb or ache or sting. He twisted his head until he could look at Rogan as he paced about nearby. The man had short greying brown hair. He wore black jeans and a denim jacket lined with wool. About six feet tall, solidly built, late thirties. His heavy workman’s boots glistened with Victor’s blood. He noticed the mercenary was clean shaven.

  They made eye contact. When Victor didn’t look away, the man’s face creased in anger and aggression.

  ‘What the fuck are you looking at
?’

  Victor didn’t respond.

  Rogan said, ‘You killed three of my mates.’

  Victor spat out more blood.

  ‘You hear me down there, you prick?’

  The mercenary came closer. He put a light kick into Victor’s flank.

  ‘Forrester. McNeil. Cole,’ he said, punctuating each name with a kick. ‘They were my friends and you killed them. You rammed a fucking handgun barrel through Cole’s eye socket, you sick fuck.’

  Victor said nothing. One corner of his mouth upturned.

  White showed all round Rogan’s irises. ‘You think that’s fucking funny, do ya?’

  Hands grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him to his feet. He winced as he tried to support himself, shifting his weight on to his right foot to spare his injured left ankle. He didn’t need to. The mercenary kept him upright. He was strong and had no trouble supporting Victor’s weight. Rogan stared into Victor’s black eyes.

  ‘They were good lads.’

  ‘But not so good at their jobs,’ Victor said.

  Jaw muscles bunched beneath the mercenary’s skin. His grip on Victor tightened and he half scowled, half smiled.

  ‘When that little bitch is dead, I’m going to really enjoy sending you to join her. That psycho Sinclair is going to have to fight me for the privilege of cutting you up.’

  Victor grinned.

  Rogan shook his head, disbelieving. ‘Who in the name of fuck do you think you are?’

  ‘I’m the man who’s going to kill you.’

  He burst out laughing. Spit and sour smoker’s breath struck Victor’s face. If Rogan had any fatigue from holding Victor up for so long, he didn’t show. Victor was glad the man was so strong.

  When he stopped laughing, he said, ‘And please, just for my own personal fucking amusement, tell me how you’re planning on pulling that off when you’re beaten to a pulp and cuffed?’

  Victor stared back hard as he said, ‘Do you mean the handcuffs I’ve already picked?’

  Rogan hesitated, surprised, then took a half-step away – in part in the involuntary reaction to danger; in part to create a better viewing angle. His gaze dropped to see: