“Gaby,” Fritz said.
“What?”
“That short for something? Gabrielle?”
“Does it matter?”
“Just making conversation.”
“Don’t feel like you have to put yourself out.”
He chuckled. “Come on; we’re on the same side now. Or what, you’re taken or something? You and the California surfer?”
“We’re just friends.”
“Ah,” he said, and she thought, Jesus, is he flirting with me?
The thought further nauseated her, especially given where they were and what they were doing at the moment. She was still trying to decide how to feel about Fritz’s comments when her hand touched cold steel in the dead man’s back pocket. She quickly wrapped her fingers around it and pulled her hand out.
“Nothing,” Fritz said. He was working so close to her that she could smell his sweat as he reached over and pulled another body toward him, handling the dead man as if he were a (heavy) bag of flour. “You get lucky?”
“No key yet,” she said, turning her body slightly so more of her back was to Fritz.
She opened her hand and looked down at the folded pocketknife. The handle was about four inches long, which meant the hidden blade would be around three inches or so.
There is a God.
She had been prepared to do this the hard way, by getting her hands on one of Fritz’s weapons — either his sidearm or the knife in a sheath strapped to his left hip. It wouldn’t have been easy; Fritz was bigger and stronger, and despite the element of surprise, she would have had to get really, really lucky. There would have been a lot of noise, maybe even a gunshot, and Danny would be at risk.
But what else was new? They were all at risk if they did nothing.
“Maybe it’s not here,” Fritz was saying. “Wouldn’t that be a kick in the balls? Might have to shoot our way out of here on foot. I guess that’ll be fun, too.”
Fun? That’s one way to put it.
“Other guys got into this because they believed in the cause,” Fritz continued, oblivious to what she was doing next to him, “but me and Benford? We just like the excitement. Be all you can be, right?”
She pocketed the knife and turned around. “Anything?”
“Zilch.” He wrinkled his nose. “And to top it off, they’re starting to reek, too.”
“We all reek.”
He grinned at her. “Some reek less than others.”
Jesus, he really is flirting with me.
She managed to force out a smile back at him before turning to the next body. It was heavy, but not too much that she couldn’t have dragged it closer with a little straining, and it certainly wasn’t heavy enough that she had to make noises as she edged it near her, trying to get it off the two bodies underneath it.
“Jesus, he’s a big one,” she said between grunts.
“Time to hit the gym,” Fritz said.
“Maybe after this.”
“Make an appointment. I’m always available for consultation.”
“Deal,” she said, and grunted again as she pulled at the body.
Fritz got up from the dead man he was searching and moved over and grabbed her man by the arm. Gaby had just enough time to glimpse the collaborator’s face — it was the same one that Danny had shot back in the lobby earlier. It might have been the lack of light, but she swore the man looked completely at peace.
“He’s not that heavy,” Fritz was saying.
“Heavy enough for me,” she said.
“I got it,” Fritz said, and pulled hard enough that he dumped the body on the floor with a loud thud.
While he was pulling, Gaby had taken a step back to give him room to work. At the same time, she slipped her hand into her pocket and took out the folded knife, then thumbed the stud sticking out of the side that allowed users to simply push the knife open with one hand — or more precisely, one thumb.
There was a slight click as the blade came out — about three inches worth, with a serrated section — but if Fritz heard it, he didn’t react. He stood in front and slightly to the left of her, almost exactly opposite the door behind them, which allowed a stream of pale light to splash across his back. She had no trouble whatsoever finding his neck, portions of it still layered with the face paint he hadn’t taken off since she first saw him. Whatever it was he and Benford had covered themselves in, it had stayed in place remarkably well.
Fritz crouched and reached for the dead man’s pockets, saying, “You’re taking the last two. No fair I have to do all of them. Equal opportunity and all that, right?”
He was chuckling, his back to her, when she jammed the knife into the side of his throat, aiming for the middle while at the same time wrapping her left arm around his head and seeking out his mouth with her palm. He let out a startled grunt and jerked back even as she pushed the knife in further, and his body slammed into her chest and knocked her off balance as they spilled to the floor. As she fell back, all Gaby could think about was locating Fritz’s mouth to silence him so he couldn’t let out a scream that would alert Benford outside.
A loud thump! as she slammed into the floor with Fritz’s thrashing body on top of her. There was pain, but she was too busy pulling the knife out of Fritz’s neck to properly feel it. An arc of blood spurted across the room, the fresh wetness mingling with the multiple trails of dry blood that smeared the floor from when they had dragged the bodies inside earlier. Fritz’s body continued to spaz on top of her as she gave up trying to find his mouth (Jesus, where the hell is his mouth?) and instead concentrated on locking her free arm around his throat to keep him from moving around too much as she plunged the knife once, twice, three times into his chest.
He continued flailing against her, his much bigger and heavier body making it hard for her to suck in air, even as she heard him letting out a gurgling sound. Warm blood splashed both of her arms, but mostly her left hand as it tightened around his throat in a vise grip. She held him in place even as he struggled, his legs kicking out between hers. The man seemed to never run out of strength, not even when she embedded the knife a fourth time into his chest.
Then finally, mercifully, his entire body went still.
She gasped for a lungful of much-needed air and pushed his body off her, then rolled over onto her side and stared at the darkening wall for the next two, five — ten seconds. Both of her fists and most of her long sleeves were covered in blood, along with her chest and chin. Her clothing clung, damp with Fritz’s life force, the fresh stink of death threatening to make her vomit back out the MRE she’d eaten earlier.
Get a hold of yourself!
Danny, remember? He’s still in the lobby with Benford!
She pushed up onto her knees and looked back at Fritz just to be sure he was dead. He wasn’t moving at all, though his eyes were wide open and staring up at the ceiling. She remembered how he was flirting with her just before she murdered him and could no longer hold back; she bent over to throw up.
But it was a dry heave, and the chicken pesto pasta didn’t come up. There was spittle, though, and she swiped at it with the back of her blood-covered palm.
Jesus, what part of her wasn’t covered in blood?
The sudden realization of voices, coming from the lobby, made her straighten up. She tightened her grip around the knife instinctively.
It was Danny, saying something about a “horse and a bar,” though she couldn’t make out every word. Maybe it was the ringing in her ears or the sound of her heart hammering against her chest as it tried to catch up to her labored breathing.