Ciphers, Matt Rogers [a court of thorns and roses ebook free TXT] 📗

stood up, walked over to his Glock, picked it up, came back, and put one round through the centre of the sicario’s head.

Right where he’d delivered the elbow.

He checked himself for injuries as the adrenaline wore off, but he was unhurt. Bruised, banged-up, sore, but nothing that would impede his movement for the next couple of hours.

He crossed to the first sicario’s body and picked up the weapon the guy hadn’t had the chance to fire. It was a Colt M1911, identical to the handgun Rico had wielded at Palantir. A fine gun, with .45 ACP rounds more than capable of tearing through flesh and bone.

He didn’t need two handguns.

He went straight back to the door labelled “505” and knocked three times.

It took a long time for the sound of movement to materialise behind it.

‘It’s me,’ Slater said, keeping his voice low.

Alexis opened the door, her face ghost-white, a vein in her neck showing how fast her heart was pounding.

She said, ‘I thought you were—’

He handed the Colt over by the grip. ‘Take this. If anyone comes through this door with bad intentions, use it. The taser won’t cut it.’

‘Don’t you need—?’

‘I’ve got one.’

‘Are you—?’

‘I’m fine.’

She reached out and threw her arms around him, burying her head against his chest. He took a giant step over the threshold, backing her into the entranceway of her apartment, separating her from a line of sight with the two bodies outside.

Then he stepped away. ‘I still want that date.’

‘You’ve got it.’

He tried to smile, but couldn’t. The ice-cold clarity that he’d just narrowly avoided death was still fresh on his mind. He nodded once, and waited for her to close the door.

Then he turned toward the two bodies down the hall.

He set to work moving them into the stairwell, out of sight.

He didn’t want her to see what he’d done.

What he was, under it all.

52

With the dead sicarios wedged into a dark alcove in the stairwell, Slater descended.

He didn’t bother illuminating the way. There was a weak emergency light at the top of the stairwell, supposedly running on a small backup generator. Its glow barely permeated the giant concrete space, but he could make out the outlines of steps ahead, and that was all he really needed. Besides, using his phone as a flashlight would only reveal his location as a beacon if there were more enemies lying in wait.

Nothing would surprise him at this point.

He pulled out his phone and tapped Violetta’s contact name. The satellite technology connected to her own customised device, and the call went through immediately, the dial tone slightly different to the default shrilling.

She picked up after three rings. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘I am.’

‘Have you spoken to King?’

‘Briefly. Sounds like he’s in the middle of something.’

‘I got the same impression. Did he tell you anything?’

‘No. He’s keeping things close to his chest. Which is inconvenient. He was barely on the line for thirty seconds. Are you with him?’

‘No. But I’m about to be.’

‘You need to pass on critical information.’

‘And what might that be?’

He kept the phone pressed to his ear with one hand and used the Glock in the other to sweep the space ahead as he reached the bottom of the stairwell. Uncanny déjà vu swept through him as he reminisced on the exact same sequence playing out in his own building on the Upper East Side hours earlier.

Would the next few seconds be the same, too?

Only one way to find out.

He didn’t wait for a response from her end — he simply stepped out of the stairwell, kept his centre mass low and his movements quiet and smooth, and scanned every inch of the lobby that he could see. It was untouched, dormant. There was no one lying in wait.

Then he looked through the huge glass panes and saw something strange.

Empty vehicles still covered the road, obscuring his view of the opposite sidewalk. But amidst the cars there was movement. Coming from multiple places at once. Slater flitted his focus between them, and he thought he made out silhouettes, but they were moving fast and low.

Toward the intersection.

Toward the bank building.

Slater’s stomach twisted. ‘Your critical information wouldn’t pertain to reinforcements you called in, would it?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Have you met them?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘How much did you tell them?’

‘I liaised with a Detective First Grade in the NYPD. I heard he was a hard charger. He was our best bet to rally up a bunch of cops in this kind of emergency.’

‘How much of a hard charger?’

Silence.

Slater said, ‘Violetta, what did you tell him to do?’

She said, ‘I’ll call you back.’

‘It’s too late. You won’t get hold of him now. What did you tell him?’

‘To form a perimeter.’

‘Did you stress the gravity of the situation?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you told a hard-charging no-nonsense detective who’s known for street prowess to get together a whole bunch of his colleagues and then hold back at the edge of something incredibly important?’

‘I said I had my own specialists handling it.’

‘So you undermined him, too.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah, shit.’

‘What’s he doing?’

‘If I’m seeing things correctly,’ Slater said, ‘he’s taking matters into his own hands.’

‘Pull them back.’

‘If I step out there, it’ll kick off regardless. They’re too close. There’s no way to—’

‘Slater, pull them back.’

‘What part of “I can’t” don’t you understand?’

‘Where are you?’

‘In a lobby.’

‘Where are they?’

‘Fifty feet from the kill zone.’

‘Can’t you—?’

‘You think they’d listen to me?’ he said. ‘They’d probably shoot me before they obeyed me. There’s nothing to identify me as an operative. And there’s a sniper somewhere out there with a .50 cal trained on the lobby I’m standing in. I’m a sitting duck if I step outside. They saw me go in.’

‘Shit,’ she repeated. ‘Why is Riordan doing this?’

‘I assume that’s Detective First Grade Riordan, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because he doesn’t want to sit back and play the supporting role. Not when there’s the opportunity to be a hero.’

‘That’s not what I instructed.’

‘That’s life.’

‘Use it,’ she said suddenly.

‘What?’

‘If they’re walking into a slaughter, use it to get inside