Helix Nexus, Chris Lofts [best android ereader .txt] 📗

her valiant vassal and liege man.’ He grabbed a fistful of Finch’s jacket. ‘Being in that place at that time is way too much of a coincidence, even for a snake like you.’ He hauled him closer. ‘I told you, you should have walked away while you could. You should have vanished the moment I shot that shrink-wrap in Chepstow. You knew I’d come for you, but you thought you could hide in her shadow. Well, guess what, you’re nothing but pigswill to her. That’s why you’re out here and she’s in there,’ he said, nodding towards the door.

‘I’m pigswill?’ Finch laughed. ‘With Ethan, that makes two of—’

Helix exploded forward, heaving Finch over the railings and into the void.

Finch flailed for a finger hold, catching one of the horizontal bars with one hand. He thrashed and swung his body, latching his other hand over a bar. ‘Where is that poison dwarf? Found him yet?’ he said, fighting for grip.

‘Yeah, I found him.’ Helix swung his boot at the railings, grinding Finch’s fingers. ‘We’ll be having a beer later to celebrate. Except we won’t be raising a glass in your honour.’

Finch screamed, his right hand slipping as Helix lifted his boot. His crushed bloody fingers clawed the concrete below the railings, his weight now suspended by his left.

Helix stamped down again. Hollow tubular steel echoes reverberated around the stairwell as Finch fell, his body rebounding from the railings as it plunged into the chasm.

Helix primed himself again. How many remained with Lytkin? He weighed the remaining grenade in his pocket. He could blast his way into the apartment. But somehow destroying even more of Yawlander’s world didn’t feel right, regardless of the prize. He stole another glance down the corridor. The light beneath Yawlander’s door was gone. Had they heard the altercation? Closing his eyes, he pictured the scene inside. He filtered out the image of Yawlander pouring whisky from a decanter, the dog at his side, the cat licking its paws on the sofa. He concentrated on the arch through to the kitchen, the door to bedroom. Beyond the kitchen lay the terrace with balcony. Stepping from the door, he pressed himself to the wall. With his P226 extended in his left hand, he slid along the wood panelling. Crouching beside the door, he swapped his gun to his right hand and gave three solid knocks on the door. A burst of automatic gunfire shredded the wood. Splinters and bullet fragments peppered the facing wall. Maybe it was meant to be two knocks. You can’t win them all. Keeping low, he darted across the door to the opposite side, next to the entry scanner. He scrolled the modes on the grenade, selected flash-bang, steadied himself, pivoted on his right foot and crashed his left boot into the door beside the handle. Firing two two-round bursts from his P226 he tossed the grenade in through the shattered door. The grenade detonated with its characteristic blinding flash. With his ears ringing, he rolled across the floor, coming up in a crouch behind Yawlander’s reading chair. He covered the angles of the sitting room, fighting the wind howling from the unrepaired window, flinched towards a movement in the kitchen, fired twice. Rolling to his right, a burst of fire tore through the carpet and chair at his side.

Against the bookcase, he caught his breath. The smell of splintered wood and burned carpet danced in the air, drawn towards the shattered blinds that clattered beside the window frame. He brushed away a splinter embedded in his cheek, ignoring the sting. The bookcase pressed into his back as he got to his feet. Faded tomes exploded on the shelves at his shoulder, soaking up the burst of fire that greeted the movement. It was short, terminating with the unmistakeable metallic death-click of a dry weapon. Helix’s reaction was instant. He leaped into the arch. Fired twice. The man fell. No time to reload. No backup weapon.

Covering the angles, he edged through the arch. Glass ground and popped beneath his boots, like the frozen snow back in the woods where Gabrielle waited. Wind-driven rain pelted the half-open patio doors. Cloud shadows swept across the terrace, the blinds continuing their relentless rattle in the wind behind him. Rounding the granite-topped island unit, the matt-black barrel of the empty weapon came into view. A hand, palm open, fingers limp. An arm, white shirt, black jacket. Helix pivoted slowly, weapon extended, double grip. A pool of blood, black, like molasses in the moonlight formed a halo around the man’s head.

Helix rubbed at the hairs on the back of his neck. A rapid deep intake of breath. Not his own. He spun towards it, gun sweeping upwards. Two shots. Two misses. Glass splinters from the doors. The slender curved blade glinted in the moonlight as it slashed from the darkness in the hands of Ulyana Lytkin.

Helix darted right. He slipped, dropping to his left knee, right arm raised in defence. The blow was heavy, polished steel against titanium and carbon fibre. Driving his arm to the right, he deflected the blade. A red-hot sting exploded across his cheek as the sword’s tip caught him. Ignoring the pain, he completed the move, exploiting Lytkin’s forward momentum. Clamping his hand over her wrist, he twisted and drove his left elbow back. Her body collapsed around the force of the strike, the wind beaten from her. The sword cart-wheeled and clattered across the grey-tiled floor. He brought his weapon to bear as Lytkin writhed, her hands to her stomach, gasping for air. He should have fired. Not yet.

Taking three steps back, he paused, touched his fingers to his cheek, touched them to his tongue between deep breaths. Lytkin stared back at him, an inferno of hate in her eyes. ‘You can have that for my daughter,’ she spat, rolling over and pulling herself back against one of the kitchen units.

‘On your feet.’ He waved her up with his gun, backed away