He waved the iron lamp threateningly.
“Now, we are going to have that little conversation that seems to keep getting delayed.” Jason had intentionally placed himself within range of the prone man’s legs. “You’re going to tell me …”
Jason’s BlackBerry rang.
In the split instant of startled indecision, the man on the bed lashed out with a scissorslike kick that took Jason’s legs out from beneath him and crumpled him on the floor. The intruder made a quick judgment: instead of attacking, he bolted for the open French doors, his injured hand held in the other.
Jason watched him go, gratified that, so far, his plan had worked. Then he realized the cell phone in his pocket was still ringing.
Who …?
“Hello?”
“Jason?” It was Judith, of course. “You OK? I was worried.”
Oh, swell!
Jason had to clench his jaws not to say what was on his mind. “How thoughtful of you. Perhaps it might have served us better had you waited until I could have called you. I was, emphasis on the was, sort of busy.”
“Guess I fucked up.”
No, I fucked up by bringing an untrained, unqualified person along on a mission where professionalism is required, he thought.
But he said, “If that’s your only mistake, everything will be fine.”
“You didn’t tell me not to call,” Judith said, miffed. “I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Now do your part.”
Jason pressed the Disconnect key. With him momentarily off his guard, if that guy had attacked instead of fled …
He shoved the BlackBerry back into his pocket. At least the first part of the plan had worked.
44
Judith watched the blur of a shadow bolt from Jason’s room onto the terrace. The man was hunched over as though he had been hurt. Her impulse was to go to Jason to make sure he was all right, but there was no time and she could tell he was already angry with her.
All she had wanted to do was make sure Jason was all right. Some people, apparently including Jason, were just prickly by nature.
Stepping over to the door of her room that opened onto the corridor, she pressed an ear against it, waiting for the soft sound of footsteps on Spanish tile as the man leaving Jason’s room entered the side of the cloister. As he passed, she kicked off her high heels, slipping her feet into a pair of sneakers that would make no noise on the cobblestone streets. Snatching up her purse, the one with the shoulder strap, she waited.
She waited until she heard the faint whir of the elevator before she bolted from her room and took the stairs two at a time. The elevator was leisurely passing the second floor as she dashed through the lobby and outside to seek shelter in the shadows of the plaza across the street.
Backing into the darkness under a towering ficus tree, she was certain she could not be seen from the hotel.
A sound, a flicker of movement, some sixth sense made her suddenly aware she was not alone. The man sent to kill Jason had backup.
The streets were brightly lit but she could make out little within the penumbra of shade cast by the tree. She could not see who shared the darkness, but she was certain he meant her no goodwill. Warily, she moved backward toward the line that demarcated a puddle of light from a streetlamp and the ficus tree’s thick foliage.
Then, like a comet out of the night, a streak of silver sliced at her midsection. More from reflex than thought, she bent and recoiled like a batter avoiding an inside fastball.
Either her sight was adjusting to the night or she was getting closer to the streetlights, for she could make him out now. Or at least part of him. Tall, shaved, polished scalp. And the right side of his face, including the eye, were covered by a bandage. The latter possibly explained why his first strike missed: the loss of depth perception. She could see his teeth, exposed in a smile that said he did not anticipate his next assault would fail.
Jason stepped into the hallway, noting that Judith’s door was ajar. She had left in a hurry, as would be the case if she were to get outside and into a position to follow the would-be assassin. Or at least get a license-plate number of a getaway car.
He knew he should stay in the room rather than chance spooking the man Judith was to tail. Instead, he took the stairs down to the empty lobby, arriving just in time to see the fleeing back of his attacker. Jason flattened himself against the wall next to the elevator, hoping Judith had made it into position across the street.
When he was certain the man had cleared the lobby, Jason followed to the hotel’s entrance to see the back of his attacker disappear around the corner to his left.
Where was Judith?
A flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. Judith, barely visible in the shadows of a huge tree, seemed to be engaged in some sort of motion, twisting, swaying to no music Jason could hear. As he moved closer to the street, Jason saw she was not alone. His throat caught as he recognized the man with the bandaged face. Though he couldn’t see the blade from where he stood, Judith’s movement told him she was dodging a knife. As a rank amateur, she would be easy prey. The bastard was toying with her.
With a final glance at the point at which the intruder to his room had disappeared, Jason ran down the steps and across the narrow street. Careful to move as quietly as quickly, he kept the ficus tree between him and the man he was certain had a knife.
Judith looked directly at Jason as she dodged another swipe of the blade. If she saw him, as was all but certain, she gave no indication, only giving ground as she slowly backed away.
On the balls of his feet, the man made a balanced thrust. No doubt he had been trained in the use of the weapon.
With the grace of a matador avoiding the bull’s horns, Judith stepped aside, using an open palm to knock the arm wide of the mark.
An amateur, perhaps, but not bad.
Jason was at the tree now. The time for stealth was past. “Freeze, fucker!”
The man with the knife did just that if only for a split second, an instant in which Judith landed a kick in his groin. “Shit-ass!”
With a muffled grunt, he bent double just in time to meet her knee squarely with his nose. The sound was like that of a ripe melon hitting concrete.
As he stumbled forward, his one good eye masked in blood from his flattened nose, Jason grabbed the wrist of the hand that still held the knife. A downward snatch and the blade spun into darkness as the man pitched forward, face-first, onto the ground.
Jason barely noticed Judith slip away.
For one of the few times in his life, training, common decency, and a sense of mercy deserted him simultaneously. In their place was the memory of the death of Boris and attempts on his own life. He waited for the man to struggle to his knees before delivering a running kick to the ribs. Jason imagined he heard bones crack.
“That’s for Boris,” he growled.
Impatient for the prone figure to attempt to rise again, Jason bent over and grabbed the shirt collar, twisting it tight against the Adam’s apple until his victim gagged for breath.
“And this is for fucking with me and an unarmed woman!”
Later, Jason would be thankful someone had overheard the noise and called the police. Had not the approaching wail of sirens gotten his attention, he had little doubt he would have killed the man in his rage. He had killed enough in his life, but this bastard and his shadowy organization had pierced the wall of cool professionalism that had allowed Jason to go about his work without any qualms.