The windshield wipers clicked noisily as the driver threaded the cab through New York traffic. The apartment was over on East Fifty-eighth Street. Our cab’s headlights didn’t reveal much, just countless flakes floating down in front.
I snuggled inside my overcoat and felt Tanya, or Sandee as I would now call her, pressing against me.
She snapped gum at me and smiled. “Cold,” she whispered. “Colder than a well-digger’s lunchbox in the Klondike.”
“You’re really throwing yourself into this, aren’t you?”
“listen, Buster,” she said in a tough-girlish voice. “I spent fifteen hours reading and watching films about that broad. I know her as well as I know myself. Hell, I am her.” She snapped the gum some more to prove it.
The cabbie pulled over to the curb in front of a new apartment building. I paid off the driver and followed Sandee out into the snow. She stood shivering while I got our luggage from the trunk. Then we crunched through snow to an iron-gated archway.
Inside consisted of a patio with three stories of wrought-iron balconies. There were white wrought-iron tables and chairs scattered around us, all piled with snow.
“Which apartment is it?” Sandee asked.
I checked the key. Since Acasano had been in AXe’s hands when he died, we had access to everything he had on him. “Bee, one-oh-five,” I answered.
The apartments were arranged in four buildings, each one with a patio. Sandee and I entered the door to building B. The main floor doors were lined on each side of a hallway. There didn’t seem to be much light.
We walked and checked the door numbers. They went from 1 to 99.
“Second floor,” I said.
We took the elevator at the end of the hall. When we stepped out at the second floor, it looked dimmer than downstairs. The carpeting was so thick it felt as if we were in a hotel or a theater lounge.
“Here it is,” Tanya, or Sandee, said.
I moved in front of the door beside her. “What am I going to call you when we’re alone? Sandee, or Tanya?”
“Call me for supper, you creep. I’m starving.”
I got the key in the lock with several clicks. “Wish there was more light,” I mumbled.
“Heat, sir,” she said. “I need heat.” She shivered to prove it.
The latch clicked. I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. Immediately I had the feeling something was wrong. There was a smell, an unusual scent that resembled incense. I’d know for sure once there was a little light.
Reaching around the door jam, my hand fumbled along the wall for a light switch. Strong fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist. I felt myself being jerked inside the apartment.
“Nick!” Tanya cried.
The darkness was total. I stumbled forward surprised at the strength of the hand around my wrist. The normal reaction of anyone who is tugged at is to pull back against the force. To someone trained in karate, the opposite is true. If someone grabs and pulls, they expect some kind of resistance, even if token. What they don’t expect is for you to go rushing headlong into them.
Which is what I did. Once I was inside the apartment, I rushed into whoever was pulling me. It was a man, and he was going down.
My feet left the floor; they went up toward the ceiling, then came around over me. I landed flat on my back against a chair.
“Hyaa!” a voice shouted. It came from across the room, and a blow followed it straight to my stomach.
I doubled over, then rolled. Tanya clicked on the light. The apartment was a shambles, furniture overturned, lamps broken, drawers pulled out. One ceiling light had come on above me.
There were two of them, both Oriental. As I pushed myself against the wall and up to my feet, one of them passed quickly in front of me. He gave out a short grunt and his arm swung in an upward arc, struck the globe of the ceiling light, and shattered it to pieces.
Darkness flooded the apartment and because Tanya had left the door open, some dim light filtered in from the hallway. Before the light had shattered, I saw the second man pull out a knife.
I moved along the wall to the corner and snapped Hugo down its sheath into my waiting hand.
“Mr. Acasano?” a voice said. “There is no need for this violence. Perhaps we can talk.” The voice was coming from my left.
He was trying to draw conversation from me to pinpoint my position. It didn’t matter that I knew where he was, he had help. I didn’t know if I had any.
“You are not Mr. Acasano, are you?” the voice asked. “The lady called you Nick. She... Ahh!” The blow had landed against his side with a hollow thud.
I did have help.
The voice didn’t worry me. As long as he was talking, he was giving me his position. It was the other one. He worried me.
He had also heard Tanya call me Nick and knew I wasn’t Acasano. I couldn’t let him leave the apartment alive either.
My eyes were used to the dimness now. He came along the wall in a crouch, moving fast, the dagger out in front of him. That sharp blade was aimed straight for my throat.
I jumped out of the corner swinging Hugo in a side arc. There was a “ting” sound as both blades flicked off each other. In one jump I was away from the wall and had turned back. Hugo was ready.
“Behind you!” Tanya shouted.
“Hyaa!” another voice cried.
The blow would have been one of those where the fingertips are curled and the knuckles slam with all the strength the attacker has. It was aimed for my back, and it would have snapped my spine.
But I dropped to my knees as soon as Tanya shouted her warning. The blow glanced off my left ear, and by that time I was reaching.
He was off balance, coming forward. Both my hands were behind my head, grabbing. The other saw an advantage and stepped forward with the dagger back ready to lunge.
I caught him by the hair, which was good enough, and pushed to my feet as I pulled him down over my head. The smell of his cologne or after-shave was very strong for an instant.
He went high over me. The one with the dagger saw him coming and opened his mouth. Both men collided with a grunt and went smashing back against the wall. It was a miracle one of them wasn’t cut with that dagger.
For a few seconds they were a tangle of arms and legs. I used the time to step in closer, Hugo by my waist, aimed straight ahead.
The one with the dagger rolled away from the wall and, in one liquid motion, swung up to his feet. He was coming high, with the dagger swinging down.
It wasn’t difficult then. I sidestepped to the right, pivoted, dipped, and came up with Hugo. The stiletto pushed into him just under the rib cage, the blade went through the left lung and pricked the heart. Almost immediately I yanked the blade out and jumped to my left.
The strength was out of his arm before the dagger came completely down. His free hand clutched at his chest. It had only taken split seconds, but in that time I saw the man I had killed. Straight black hair, half hanging over his face. Suit, well cut and tailored. Face broad and flat, in the late twenties.
He stumbled back, the dagger falling noiselessly to the carpet. Both hands clutched at his chest. When he sank to his knees his eyes were looking straight through me. The front of his shirt was scarlet with blood. He fell face forward.
That left the other one outnumbered, and he knew it. He pushed me and started for the door.
“Tanya!” I shouted, and knew I had made the same mistake she had earlier.
She was right there. She moved like lace in a wind, across the room, arm back. Then the arm shot forward and connected against the man’s neck. His feet went out to the side as he slipped and went down.