Ghosts, Matt Rogers [reading the story of the .txt] 📗

knee and she got her hand on his wrist and torqued it and his weapon fell free without a single shot being fired.

She smacked him once, twice, three times in the face with the SIG.

Each blow dealt horrific damage.

Violetta didn’t look away.

She didn’t dare pretend there weren’t consequences to this mad game.

He started to collapse and she caught him around the throat — just as she’d been taught over thousands of hours of jiu-jitsu classes — and squeezed methodically and surgically. It didn’t take obscene strength. It didn’t even take a whole lot of dexterity and coordination. All she had to do was lock her forearm against his neck at the right angle, then apply as much pressure as she could. He was blind from watery eyes and a swollen nose and a split lip, so he was forced to rely on guesswork when he retaliated. He threw her around with his sheer deadweight but she held onto his back, “sinking the hooks in” by wrapping her legs around his mid-section. He tried to slam her into the wall but his legs faltered before he could make it laterally across the hallway.

He dropped to his knees, reached up and feebly grabbed at her forearm.

It didn’t work.

He went out, fell forward, splayed across the dusty concrete.

Blood coagulated with dirt.

Brown muck surrounded his face.

She kept squeezing.

Waited a full thirty seconds past the point of unconsciousness before she let go and crawled off him.

For good measure she fished across his throat for a pulse.

Didn’t find one.

She stood up to find Alexis staring at her in horror.

Violetta dusted blood and dirt off her outfit. Her chest rose and fell, her arms heavy with lactic acid buildup. Killing a larger man with her bare hands took every ounce of effort she had to give.

‘This is what we do,’ she said.

Alexis kept staring.

Violetta said, ‘You still in?’

Alexis said, ‘I’m in.’

Violetta offered a hand and led her out of the corridor. They passed under another security camera — a reflective black half-sphere positioned above one of the doorways. It would have captured everything Violetta had done, but there was no blinking light beside it.

Only certain cameras were functioning.

Violetta raised her SIG, re-swept the space, and completed the extraction three minutes after stepping inside.

57

Ward said six.

Slater had killed five.

No one else appeared. The seconds drew out, painfully slow, but King never lowered his guard for a heartbeat. The darkness started warping, imaginary shadows rearing up over Ray’s body. The sheriff’s operation was now moribund, but there was a very real possibility of hangers-on. Last-minute call-ups, ushered in by Ray as soon as he realised the four men he’d sent to pursue Ward weren’t coming back.

Or he’d been cocky, and thought he could pull it off with his original cadre.

Which ended up being the case.

Violetta and Alexis appeared beside them. It couldn’t have been more than minutes, but it felt like years.

Violetta said, ‘That’s it. It’s clear.’

Still seated, Slater muttered, ‘Any reinforcements would have been even dumber than these guys. There’s no way they’re out there showing restraint. We’re clear.’

Alexis walked over to him, crouched by him, and threw her arms around him.

He held her tight.

Breathed her scent.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Ray’s body over her shoulder, spread-eagled in the dirt.

Slater said, ‘Did he—?’

Alexis shook her head, her eyes wet. ‘He tried.’

‘What happened?’

‘You called. It stopped him.’

Slater regarded the corpse in the lot with fury. He should have died slower. A bullet was merciful. Ray stared up at the stars, eyes wide, lips full, face pale.

Pathetic in death.

Pathetic in life.

King cast Slater a dark look over how narrowly Alexis had avoided the horrors. ‘Skin of our teeth.’

Alexis said, ‘I’m not ready for this, Will. I wasn’t—’

He said, ‘Not now. Please. I can’t think straight.’

Violetta looked at his ankle. ‘How bad is it?’

King said, ‘Bad.’

‘We need Josefine’s daughter,’ Violetta said. ‘We need Elsa. That’s priority number one. To do that we need Kerr back.’

So much had happened that Kerr had slipped from Slater’s mind. He stared into the night. ‘Go get her.’

King shook his head. ‘It’s been too long. She could be anywhere. Laying low in any of these buildings. She’s a needle in a haystack now.’

‘If we work together,’ Slater said, ‘we can…’

‘You can’t walk,’ King said.

For the first time Slater noticed the expression on Violetta’s face. She was remembering … something.

Slater looked at her. ‘What is it?’

Violetta said, ‘I know what to do.’

King said, ‘You do?’

She looked at him. ‘Take Slater and Alexis back home.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Pay a visit to Wan’s.’

King froze. Again, wanting to volunteer for the dirty work. ‘Let me.’

Violetta shook her head. ‘He has the place rigged with cameras. You ghosted him earlier today. You’re at the top of his shit list. He has no idea who I am.’

King mulled it over, then shook his head again. ‘Killing Gates right now achieves nothing. We need to be focused on Kerr.’

‘I am focused on Kerr,’ Violetta said.

There’s something you don’t know.

King said, ‘What?’

‘I saw surveillance footage on a laptop in there,’ she said, jerking a thumb at the dark maw of the entrance. ‘Of the alley behind Wan’s. Gates and Ray were in a war, after all. They were keeping tabs on each other.’

‘Okay?’

‘As of an hour ago, Melanie was there.’

King stared. ‘Oh.’

Alexis said, ‘Are we stooping that low?’

Slater gave her a look. It said plenty.

It said, There’s a woman serving eleven years for something she didn’t do. There’s a girl — a kid, really — locked up in some hole where Gloria Kerr stores any product that has too much heat on it. That’s if Elsa isn’t already dead. And there’s a larger web. There’s someone even higher than the DA who’s in on this, who’ll get off scot-free unless we act now.

Yes, Alexis, we’re stooping low.

Not that it was in any way guaranteed.

King said, ‘Gates knows me, but he’s still compromised. I doubt he has anyone left. That’s the snowball effect. A few of his boys die, a