Killer Instinct - James Patterson Page 0,62

a pause—a long pause—before Viktor got a response. The voice was the same as I remembered from my apartment, but the tone was drastically different. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

My gut had told me that Al-Kazaz and the Mudir were one and the same. Whatever doubt I still had disappeared in that very moment. I didn’t need to see him. Hearing him was enough. It was the way he chillingly delivered the line, a simple question. What did you say?

Only it wasn’t really a question. It was a reminder. No one talked to the Mudir like that. And just to make sure? He added his own special punctuation.

Click.

Sometimes it takes the cocking of a hammer to drive a point home.

Consider it driven. Viktor immediately apologized, his voice trembling. He was suddenly a guest in his own home.

“I know, I know. I should’ve returned your calls,” said Viktor. “I was afraid to disappoint you.”

“Then don’t,” said the Mudir. “Where’s my package? What’s the delay?”

“Please lower the gun.”

“Answer the question. What’s the delay?”

“It’s customs,” said Viktor. “It’s being held up at customs.”

“You said you had that covered.”

“I do. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ve been assured the shipment will be cleared by the end of next week.”

“That’s too long. The timeline has changed. Things will be happening faster,” said the Mudir. “You’ve got twenty-four hours.”

I had one ear trained on the conversation. In my other ear was Julian asking me if I was okay. If I had a third ear I maybe would’ve heard the footsteps out in the hallway.

“There you are!” said Elizabeth. I knew the second she saw Viktor, she’d also see his guest—and his gun. Her reaction was pure reflex. “Oh.”

As in, Oh, shit.

The G42 is the smallest Glock there is, and I knew exactly where Elizabeth was hiding it. She had it strapped to the inside of her leg underneath her dress.

“My goodness. I can’t imagine what this must look like,” said Viktor. “Elizabeth, I want you to meet a good friend of mine.”

I slowly reached inside my jacket, feeling for the grip of my own Glock. There was no telling how the Mudir would respond, but I could feel Viktor silently pleading with him to play along.

He did. “I’m Benjamin,” he said. “Benjamin Al-Kazaz.” As liars go, at least he was consistent.

He offered no explanation for the gun in his hand. Nothing more about himself. But he was very curious about Elizabeth.

“What’s your last name?” he asked.

“It’s Johnson,” she said.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an interior designer.”

I waited for the Mudir’s next question, but all I heard was silence. It was the loudest, most threatening stretch of dead air I’d ever encountered. The Mudir knew who Elizabeth really was.

“You’re no interior designer,” he said.

CHAPTER 77

ALL HELL broke loose. All at once.

I sprang from behind the curtains as the Mudir raised his arm to shoot Elizabeth. Viktor was screaming at him, “No!”

From the corner of his eye, the Mudir spotted me—a sudden distraction enough to shift his aim a couple of clicks to the left of Elizabeth as she dove clear of the doorway.

I closed the gap fast, bull-rushing him before he could swing his gun my way. I wanted him down but not dead. He knew too much. Too many secrets. The Mudir was more than a terrorist; he was the terrorist, the one behind the Times Square bombings and whatever else he was planning.

Had we hit the floor clean, I would’ve owned all the leverage, but my momentum carried us onto the back of the couch. As we careened into a bookcase, he was able to break free.

“Freeze!” yelled Elizabeth.

As fast as she was with her G42, the Mudir was even faster. By the time she was back in the doorway with him dead in her sights, he’d grabbed Viktor.

“Think again,” said the Mudir, his gun pressed hard against the side of Viktor’s head.

I didn’t know if I was more relieved or impressed. The Mudir could’ve killed me instead of going after Viktor, but he knew Elizabeth was surely packing as well. If he pulled the trigger on me, he would’ve been a dead man, too.

The Mudir was smart, all right. But how smart?

“Go ahead,” I told him, pointing at Viktor. “Kill him.”

The look on Viktor’s face. As if he weren’t scared shitless enough. The look from Elizabeth, too. She knew what I was doing. It was one thing she couldn’t do because of her badge.

But the only look that really mattered was