“That is a little stupid, isn’t it, Sheng? I know what you have in mind. As soon as I tell you where it is, my life is worthless.”
“Is that what you are trying to buy? More time to five?”
“Maybe.”
He raised the gun. “Turn your pockets inside out.”
I did so, keeping Hugo cupped inside my palm. When my two front pants pockets were out and down I got a more comfortable grip on the stiletto. Tanya was ready to make her jump now. It had to be soon, the first was in my back pocket, and I knew what Sheng would ask next.
“All right,” he said. “Now turn around and pull your back pockets inside out. You didn’t have that much time to hide the thing. It should be easy to find if you don’t have it on you.”
I stood still without moving.
“I will shoot your kneecaps first, then both elbows, then the shoulders. Do as I say.” He took a step forward and leaned over a little, looking at me as though he had just seen me for the first time. “Wait a minute,” he whispered. “You’re not buying time for yourself. There’s bandaging around your waist. How did... Who...”
That’s when Tanya jumped. Her legs came out and down followed by the rest of her. The flight was so short I almost missed it in the darkness. She was like a missile, hitting with feet first, arms and hands a trailing mist above her.
But Sheng was not entirely unprepared. As soon as he saw my bandage, he knew that Tanya had not been killed, that she was alive and listening to our conversation. At that moment he had taken a step backward, which threw off her timing; he was raising the gun toward her as he turned away from me.
That was when I started moving. Hugo was in my hand now, at waist level. Sheng was six or seven steps away from me. I lowered my head and started after him, Hugo in front of me.
Tanya’s timing had been thrown, but not completely. Her right heel caught Sheng on the side of the neck, snapping his head to the side. He didn’t quite get the gun aimed at her. But then the rest of her plowed into him.
For an instant she was tangled around his head and shoulders. He hadn’t dropped the gun yet, but it waved around frantically while he tried to get her off.
I was almost on him. The entire scene seemed to take on a slow-motion pace, although I knew only split seconds were passing. I doubted if two seconds had passed from the time Tanya made her leap until now, yet it all seemed as if it were taking me forever getting to him.
He was going down with Tanya still all over him. Now he was four steps away, then three. When his back hit the asphalt he forced himself over, legs going high toward his head. His left knee hit Tanya on the side of the head which was enough to send her up and behind him. She struck the asphalt and started rolling.
Sheng went completely over on his hands and knees. He got his right foot under him ready to stand, and raised the gun toward me.
But by that time I had reached him. I had switched Hugo to my right hand and now had it pushed ahead of me. With my left I knocked his gun arm aside and stabbed down, putting all my weight behind it.
He saw it coming and, grabbing for my wrist, fell to his right. The point of the stiletto had been aimed at his throat. By leaning away he caught it in the shoulder.
I could feel it going in. The point passed through the cloth of his coat easily, paused for a microsecond when it began to pierce the skin, then slid in with all my weight behind it. Sheng’s shoulder went back as he twisted to the side.
He let out a howl of pain and grabbed my wrist. Now he was trying to bring the gun back around. I tried to pull the stiletto back out to get another plunge at him, but he held my wrist tight.
We were close to each other. I could see the pain in his eyes, the lock of straight black hair over his forehead, the loosened tie, blood starting to spurt from the wound soaking the beautifully tailored jacket.
With his free hand he struck me in the wounded side.
I let out a grunt as pain washed completely over me. It was like liquid poured from a bucket. Straight to the bone marrow it went, hurting everything along the way.
There were several things I could still see. I was going down, doubled to my left. Sheng was now swinging the gun around toward my head. Somehow the stiletto had been pulled from his shoulder. It was still in my hand. The pain dulled my brain, slowed my reflexes to elephantlike movements.
Sheng was on his feet. Tanya lay apart from us, unmoving. I was sitting with my hand pressed against my bleeding side. Then I got both feet under me as I saw his gun swing at my face. Forgetting the pain, I put both arms in front of me and dove.
It was a flying tackle hitting him just above the knees, the kind that make pro quarterbacks climb stairs very slowly and limp for the first hour after rising. When I was sure my shoulders had struck him, I gathered his calves, ankles, and feet into my chest and kept driving.
He couldn’t step anywhere. As he fell back his arms went up and back to try to cushion his fall. But he hit hard anyway. Then he started pulling his legs. It wasn’t until I started crawling over him toward his face that I realized he had lost the gun in his fall. I just caught a glimpse of it making one last bounce on the wooden dock, then splashing into the harbor.
My right hand, with the stiletto in it, went high. But he grabbed it before I could bring it down into his stomach. We stayed like that, both straining. I had all my strength behind Hugo, pressing it down at him. All his strength was against my wrist, trying to keep the point of the stiletto away.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tanya begin to stir. The second it took to look at her was a mistake. Sheng raised a knee hard into my back. I cried out and doubled backward. That’s when he slapped the stiletto out of my hand. Too late, I grabbed toward it and watched it go skittering along the asphalt.
With his shoulder bleeding his one hand seemed useless. The other went for my throat with a strength I hadn’t thought he possessed. We rolled over and over. I was trying to reach for his eyes. He tried to knee me in the groin but I managed to twist away.
Then we were on the slick wood, close to the water’s edge, both grunting and panting. Neither of us spoke now. We were something less than human, as basic as time itself.
My hand was on his cheek, still going for the eyes. I realized then that he was patting my back pocket. My fist went back and smashed him against the nose. Again I struck him, and each time he let out a grunt of pain.
Blood was pouring from his nose. I raised up and smashed his mouth this time. Then I reached behind me and tried to slap his hand away from my pocket. It went away all right. It struck hard into my open wound.
Again a wave of nausea washed over me. All strength left my arms. Vaguely I felt his hand go in the pocket and pull out the list.
I had to stop him. If he got away, everything he had planned would work. The assignment would have been a failure. Gritting my teeth, I forced strength back into my body.
He was trying to push away from me. I got hold of a coat sleeve, then a pants leg. The leg jerked free, then turned back toward me. It went back and swiftly came forward again. The toe of Sheng’s shoe connected with the bleeding bandage on my side.
Blackness swept in like a tide of ink. I rolled over twice, thinking he was going to keep trying. All the things you are supposed to do to keep from going out passed through my mind. I fought it with everything in me. Once that plane took off with Sheng inside, he would be lost forever.
Sucking in and blowing out, I managed to get rid of enough blackness to open my eyes. Sheng was five feet from me, one arm hanging useless at his side, blood dripping from his fingers.
He had stopped at the stiletto. Pausing slightly, he looked down at it, then at me. The list was in his good hand, working back and forth between his fingers.