Page 86 of Nobody's Hero

‘Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough working for these assholes.’

Snow nodded again.

Which was when something shattered at his feet.That looks like a Classic Coke bottle, he thought. Oil and broken glass spilled everywhere. Covered the landing. Smelled of sesame. Kinda reminded him of Japanese food. He lurched and grabbed the banister to steady himself. Saw Little Sam had done the same. They looked like newbie ice skaters.

Might be safer to shuffle down on my ass, he thought. He looked at the broken glass. Changed his mind.

Snow was still thinking about that when the body of Lester French pinwheeled down the flight of stairs like a crash test dummy. It slammed into him and Little Sam. Knocked them both on their asses. Something cracked that wasn’t supposed to crack. Snow thought it might have been his wrist. The H&K fell from his hands. Clattered down the stairs he’d just walked up. Made a hell of a noise. Little Sam had lost his weapon too. Seemed he’d also lost the use of his legs. He was scrabbling about on the oily floor as if he had spinal shock. Helpless.

Snow couldn’t help himself. He looked at Lester French. His squad leader’s neck was at right angles, like his ear was glued to his shoulder, but it wasn’t the initial slip that had killed him. He’d been shot in the bridge of his nose and his eye socket, and then, it seemed, he’d been thrown down the stairs. Koenig was using the bodies of the dudes he’d killed to knock the living ones off their feet. It took Snow two seconds to work that out. Another two to realise the terrible danger he was in.

He looked up.

And saw Koenig. He wasn’t hurrying. His expression was monstrously calm. He held a semiautomatic pistol in one hand and had a bag of kitty litter tied around his neck. Looked like a hipster’s papoose. Koenig reached into the bag and threw down a handful of kitty litter as if he were seeding a lawn. It covered the tiles like Spill-Sorb, the absorbent granules orderlies used to clean blood in hospitals.Sothatwas how he had managed to stay on his feet when no one else could, Snow thought.Very clever. Badass.Koenig double-tapped Little Sam in the head, then moved towards him.

And then Koenig was standing over him. He looked at Snow without emotion, like he was studying the cheese trolley at a restaurant. He wasn’t even breathing hard. He pointed his gun at Snow’s head. It was a SIG.

‘Please,’ Snow pleaded.

Koenig squeezed the trigger. Twice.

And that was the end of Dwight Snow, oath-breaker.

Chapter 90

Koenig rapped on the apartment door. Draper opened it immediately. Koenig hurried in and closed the door behind him.

‘I can’t believe you MacGyvered us out of this,’ Draper said.

‘They should have withdrawn and regrouped when the first bottle of oil smashed, but they knew about the bounty. All they could see was five million bucks.’

‘Bess says you got the two watching the fire escape as well.’

‘They had their backs to me. Are we ready? Jammer or not, the cops will be here soon.’

‘Margaret’s only just regained consciousness,’ Draper said. ‘She’s a bit groggy, but she’ll be able to walk if I help her.’

‘I need you on Nash,’ Koenig said. ‘That’s where the danger is. It’s not ideal, but Bess will have to help Margaret.’

‘Let’s go then. My pilot’s waiting.’

Koenig led them out of the apartment. Five steps behind, an incensed Carlyle propped up an unsteady Margaret. Five steps behind them, an alert Draper held an equally alert Nash by the scruff of her neck, her SIG pressed against the base of her spine.

‘It gets oily lower down,’ Koenig said. ‘I’ll throw some more kitty litter, but watch your feet.’

When he reached the third floor, one of the apartment doors opened. Koenig spun round, SIG at the ready. It was an old lady. Half blind and three-quarters deaf, judging by the thick spectacles and hearing aids. Her hair was cobweb-thin and greyer than ash. She had a mole on her chin the size and colour of a blueberry. She wore a ratty yellow cardigan, the buttons in the wrong holes giving her a lopsided appearance. She held something pink and wrinkled in her arms. Looked like a cross between a small pig and a large blobfish. Hobbs’s cat, presumably.

The old lady seemed oblivious to what was going on. ‘Hello, Harper,’ she said. ‘Are you here for your father’s cat?’

Her voice was so dry Koenig was surprised dust didn’t come out of her mouth. He said, ‘Please go back inside your apartment, ma’am.’

‘You can keep Chairman Meow, Mrs Benowitz,’ Nash said loudly. ‘I’m going away for a bit.’

It took longer than Koenig would have liked, but eventually woman and cat were coaxed back into the apartment.

‘I hate that fucking cat,’ Nash said when Mrs Benowitz had finally shut her apartment door.

‘Come on,’ Koenig said, keen to keep moving.