She really was pretty. He was never going to stop loving women. Unfortunately, the one he was in love with seemed unable to conquer her ambivalence. Well, thoughts for another day. He put his hand on the butt of the Wilson and went through the doors and into the hotel lobby—
A large man was standing there, facing the chocolate shop entrance, his back to a pillar and his hand inside his jacket. Dox made him instantly. Unfortunately, he made Dox just as fast. Also unfortunately, action beat reaction, and on the assumption that the hand inside the jacket was already holding a gun, there was no way Dox could beat him to the draw.
Dox glanced around the lobby. It was bustling with tourists and an early lunch crowd. He looked at the guy and smiled. “Well, what do we do now?”
The guy didn’t smile back. “We wait.”
“Couldn’t we just talk through our differences? Why does there have to be so much hostility?”
If there was one thing Dox was good at in this world, it was rattling someone with insouciance and non sequiturs. Well, in fairness, he was a hell of a marksman, too. And he liked to think he knew how to make a woman happy. But this was a moment for the insouciance and non sequiturs.
The guy was pretty cool in response. “I’m not hostile. Just doing a job.”
“Happy in your work?”
“Never really thought about it.”
“They say the unexamined life isn’t worth living.”
“Yeah? I think my chances of living are good. Yours, not so much.”
Dox saw movement along a flight of stairs above where the guy was standing. He glanced up and saw Manus on the way down. Manus paused, watching them.
The guy saw where Dox was looking but didn’t follow his gaze. “You think you’re going to make me look? What’s next, my shoelaces are untied?”
“Of course not,” Dox said. “I can tell you’re way too smart for that.” And then he kept moving his lips, but without making any sound. Use the Espada. No noise.
“What’s that?” the guy said.
“Sorry, I’m just praying to the good lord. I mean, what else can I do”—he started enunciating very carefully—“with you holding a gun on me under your jacket and all.” And then silently, Drop him right now, please.
For a big man, Manus moved remarkably smoothly and quietly. He continued down the stairs. As he came to the landing just behind the pillar, Dox caught a flash of the Espada’s steel blade. Manus was holding it like an ice pick, close to his body.
Manus turned the corner. He did a quick witness check, left and right. He pulled abreast of the pillar and into the guy’s ambit of vision. The guy saw him and started to turn. Too late. Without any hesitation at all, Manus drove the Espada backhanded up into the guy’s midsection. The blade must have pierced the diaphragm, because the guy folded up instantly, making not a sound beyond a single loud wheeze. Dox rushed in and grabbed the guy’s right arm. But there was no need—the guy wasn’t trying to get his gun out, he wasn’t trying to do anything except maybe make the wheezing sound and twitch and shudder.
“I like my chances fine, asshole,” Dox said. He reached inside the guy’s jacket and took his pistol. He got some blood on his sleeve in the process but it wasn’t too bad, he was just glad old Manus hadn’t cut the guy’s throat. They lowered the body to the floor, Manus leaving the knife in until the last moment to keep the blood flow down.
Dox heard a woman’s voice from the lobby behind them. “Oh my God!”
He looked up and saw a woman in a floor-length leather jacket watching them, her expression horrified. He realized he’d gotten more blood on himself than he’d thought. “Get a doctor!” he called out. “This man’s bleeding. I think it’s hemorrhagic fever, probably Ebola!”