Sammy moved away from her, cradling his helmet in his arms.
‘Then you’ll get thirty,’ Janssen said. ‘Girl like you’ll go down well in prison.’ He leered, and Toby and Kilroy half-snorted, half-laughed at the innuendo.
Nadia wasn’t laughing. Nine ops for Kadinsky. Two wounded, zero fatalities. She had a hunch Janssen had a different scorecard.
‘What now?’ she asked.
Janssen prodded the Rose with a forefinger. ‘Sammy-boy, you sure the homing beacon is deactivated?’
‘I know my job.’
Janssen nodded.
This was the point at which Janssen should pay them the first half, give her back her passport, and head to the airfield. But he didn’t move, and said no more. The silence hung in the humid air, and the mood around the table shifted. Nadia couldn’t put her finger on it, but Toby stopped glancing around, and Kilroy’s lips curled into an ugly smile. The back of Nadia’s neck prickled. She tried not to react. Her gut told her to sprint for the door.
Janssen turned his back on them all and walked a few steps from the table. Toby watched Sammy. Kilroy studied her. Nadia did a rapid risk analysis: Janssen was going to double-cross Kadinsky. She and Sammy were corpses-in-waiting. Three of them against her and Sammy. Bad odds. She stared at the Rose. It was the key. She’d told Sammy she had his back, but did she? Could she kill one of these men? Nadia imagined her father rising up out of wherever the hell they’d buried him, watching her, waiting, willing her to become like him. And her mother… Christ! It was like a custody battle that reached far beyond the grave. Forget it. Focus.
Janssen’s voice echoed around the desolate room. ‘Nadia, you ditch your pistol on the way down like we agreed?’
‘Sure,’ she lied. She kept her arms folded, and did the thumbs-inside-fist trick again.
It calmed her breathing. She unfolded her arms casually. She met Kilroy’s eyes. He looked at her like she was already a piece of dead meat on the floor, and screwable into the bargain.
She kept her voice level. ‘We take the package back to Kadinsky, Janssen, as agreed.’
She reached out and picked up the Rose. It was heavier than it looked. Kilroy’s eyes narrowed. The fingers of his right hand uncurled. She ignored him and studied Janssen. He still had his back to them. His head turned halfway, as if listening, but she noticed his right arm move slowly, as if searching for something inside his jacket.
‘Afraid not, Nadia,’ Janssen said.
She took a breath, knowing that when shit happened, it only took seconds.
One.
Toby went for his gun, but Sammy was quicker, and slam-dunked his crash helmet down onto Toby’s flabby face. Nadia tossed the Rose into the air. Kilroy had been going for his weapon but his mouth dropped open as his eyes followed the vertical arc of their prize, his large hands reaching to catch it.
Two.
Toby staggered backwards, blood streaming from a pulped nose, and drew his gun, but a sharp crack exploded in the room as Sammy shot him in the chest. Toby toppled backwards onto the floor, eyes wide open. Nadia slid the safety off her Beretta, but it got caught in the folds of her anorak, wouldn’t come out of its pocket. She pulled her empty hand out just as Janssen whirled around, gripping a silver Magnum. Kilroy caught the Rose, but was staring down the barrel of Sammy’s Glock.
Three.
Janssen levelled the Magnum first at her, saw she was unarmed, then tried to draw a bead on Sammy. But Kilroy was directly between Sammy and Janssen. Janssen took a step forward. Sammy mirrored the movement, keeping Kilroy in the line of fire.
‘Stay there, Janssen,’ Sammy said. ‘Nadia and I are leaving. Keep the Rose, and the money. We’ll give you a twelve-hour head-start before we call Kadinsky.’
Nadia glanced at the door ten metres behind them. They’d never make it. Janssen looked confident. She backed away to the side, in full view of Janssen.
‘Sammy, you go, you know I can’t,’ she said, continuing to back away, trying to gauge the angle. Both Janssen and Kilroy had the hungry eyes of men who thought they were in control, about to inflict mortal harm. Kilroy shifted the Rose to his left hand, leaving his gun-hand free, fingers flexed.
‘Nad, what are you doing? You are coming with me,’ Sammy said, his voice taut. ‘They’ll kill you for sure.’
She took one more step backwards. The angle was right. One-twenty degrees. If Janssen looked straight at Sammy, she’d be in Janssen’s blind spot. She watched his eyes.
‘Looks like you’re on your own, Sammy-boy.’ Janssen took a small step forward.
Nadia’s right hand slipped into her anorak pocket again, found the cool grip of her Beretta. She reckoned she could maim Janssen without killing him. Inserting her finger in front of the trigger, she took a breath, and pulled out the Beretta. Janssen’s head turned first, then his Magnum swung in her direction. Look into their eyes, her father had said. But she blinked as she fired, the recoil punching back into her shoulder, the gunshot like a smack across both ears. The pungent smell of the expended cartridge stung her nostrils.
Janssen went down.
Another crack from Sammy’s pistol made her glance left to see Kilroy wavering like a man on a tightrope, a pistol hanging from his right hand. The Rose slipped from the other hand and fell to the floor with a dull thud. Kilroy had a blackened hole in the centre of his neck. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if he had something to say, but all that came out was a gurgling noise as blood rushed forth. He collapsed onto the dusty floor.
‘Fucking… lying… BITCH!’ Janssen tried to get up, but his hand slid in the puddle of blood trickling from the wound in his chest. She’d aimed to wing him, but he’d moved the wrong way at the last second. Missed his heart, punctured his lung. Not fatal. Not yet.
‘Give it up, Janssen,’ she said. She imagined her father shaking his head.
Janssen coughed, the silver Magnum still in his right hand as he tried to prop himself up on the other arm so he could take aim.
Sammy picked up the Rose, inspected it for damage, and waved his Glock in Janssen’s direction. ‘Finish him.’
Janssen’s body shook. He muttered something she didn’t catch, then suddenly flung out his arm. He fired. The bullet ricocheted off the wall behind Nadia’s right shoulder. The sound clanged in her ears. She took another deep breath, let it out slowly, firmed her firing arm and rooted her feet on the floor. But her trigger finger wouldn’t move.
‘Finish him!’ Sammy shouted.
Janssen half-choked, half-coughed, as blood from his mouth drooled onto the concrete.
‘Doesn’t have it in her, Sammy-boy. Crack shot, can’t kill. Just another pussy.’
He took aim, steadier this time. Nadia’s heart pounded, and she lost control of her breathing. She felt as if all the blood had drained out of her body. Her gun hand shook. Fuck! She couldn’t do it. And now Janssen was going to kill her. Her mother was going to win. Her eyes welled. Sorry, Katya.
Janssen leered. ‘You’re going to be my bitch in hell, Nadia, for all eter–’
Sammy fired.
The bullet cleaved Janssen’s forehead in two. Bloodied flesh, brain matter and shattered bone blossomed, then Janssen slumped forwards, quivered a few times, and stilled.
Nadia felt cold, unable to tear her eyes from Janssen’s corpse in its spreading red pool. She imagined his soul slipping from his body through the floor, down into the sea beneath them, falling through the Earth to the place where it belonged, where her dad would be waiting for