Страница 50 из 55
44
Bitch!
Co
Even something incredibly stupid.
He tied the grappling-hook end of the nylon line around the pedestal sink. He clipped the other end to his utility belt, made sure it was tight and secure.
Slam against the door again, wood cracking, shouts on the other side.
Co
The man on the other side of the door screamed pure rage, threw himself against the door again. The top hinge popped, clanged on the tile floor. Co
The window exploded, glass shattering outward, raining the sidewalk with glittering shards twelve stories below. Wind gusted and whistled through the bathroom. Co
Co
A sensation of wind, clothes flapping, eyes crunched to slits. For a split second, Co
He slapped the last explosive disk against the window, flipped the switch, and kicked out as hard as he could. He swung out and away from the window, then a slight pause before the return swing. Co
The woman within began screaming immediately.
Suddenly the line co
The woman still screamed. She threw a lamp. Co
There were another dozen people, half-dressed, rushing for cars.
Outside, the begi
Co
He watched the entrance of the hotel, eyes darted between the front doors and the parking garage. Come on, Otis, buddy. Come on. Where are you? Let’s get the fuck out of here-oh please will you just hurry your fucking ass up and come on come on come on!
Co
He waited.
Only the static hiss of dead air in his earpiece.
Co
About a billion more police had arrived, they were fa
He pulled out of the parking spot, drove a dozen feet when a uniformed cop stood in front of him, held up a hand.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.
Co
The cop ignored the question. “Not through here. Turn it around.”
Co
He thought of Otis and felt numb. Was the big guy still alive? Co
Co
45
Ahira Kurisaka stood naked in his hotel bathroom, the wind on his sweaty skin raising goose bumps. He’d exerted himself almost to the point of collapse. Knocking down the door, ripping the pedestal sink from the floor, and heaving it out the window was all more exercise than he’d had in a long time. He stood at the windowsill, sucking air and looking at the gathering police vehicles below.
Someone cleared his throat. Kurisaka turned, looked down at Toshi standing in the bathroom’s ruined doorway. The Yakuza killer looked bruised and bloodied. His jacket was torn. But the man stood at attention, waited for Kurisaka to speak.
“Tell me what’s happened,” Kurisaka said.
“An attempt on your life, Cousin,” Toshi said. “I personally dispatched two of the killers, which is why I was not at your side when the third man broke into your suite. I apologize for the dereliction.”
“No,” Kurisaka said. “Not an assassination attempt, not this time. They took the DiMaggio card. Your killers were a diversion.”
Toshi’s stoic expression wavered in obvious disbelief. He composed himself quickly. “We might have a more immediate problem, I’m afraid. The local authorities will be here soon.”
“We’ll use the diplomatic credentials,” Kurisaka said. “Why else would I have two ambassadors and the deputy minister of the foreign office on the payroll?”
Toshi doubted it would be that simple but said nothing.
Kurisaka turned back to the open window, gazed at the cityscape. “I don’t know what to think, Toshi.” He’d believed his DiMaggio card a prize to be envied. Then Hito Hyatta had yanked the rug out from under him, had made him feel naÏve, idiotic. He’d called the card cute. And then, in the middle of the night, someone had felt the card worth a daring raid on Kurisaka’s heavily guarded hotel suite. Kurisaka no longer understood his world.