sure why: whether the weight of killing a man pressed down on his soul – which Victor doubted – or whether Leeson knew something today he hadn’t known yesterday.
Victor stood, because he had a dangerous killer to each of his flanks and a wall behind him, while a table blocked his route out of the building. He watched Leeson, ready for the first word or change in expression that would indicate his cover was blown.
FORTY-FIVE
He would prefer to deal with Dietrich first – the biggest threat – but he was out of immediate attacking range, so Coughlin would get the knife resting next to Victor’s plate. It was a blunt, un-serrated butter knife, no good at cutting, but driven down with strength and skill would impale the hand Coughlin had helpfully left resting on the kitchen table. That one-second attack would take Coughlin out of the fight just long enough for Victor to deal with the others.
The problem then was that Victor would have used up his closest and most effective improvised weapon to immobilise Coughlin. A fork in the back of the hand wouldn’t penetrate to anywhere near the same degree but he wanted the knife in his hand when he went for Dietrich.
If Victor went for Dietrich first, he would lose precious time covering the distance and present his back to Coughlin while he dealt with Dietrich. Even though Victor didn’t consider Coughlin a threat in a one-on-one confrontation, he didn’t like the idea of losing sight of him during the attack. He had to immobilise Coughlin fast and first with the knife, which meant he needed another weapon for Dietrich.
The kettle. It was still on the stove. He’d filled it with more water than he’d needed for the cafetiere so he would have a short-range missile within reach should he need one. He couldn’t miss with a quick throw, and Victor only needed to slow Dietrich down enough to stop him drawing the knife from his belt sheath before Victor got to it first and used it to expose Dietrich’s intestinal tract to the elements.
Which left Francesca and Leeson.
She wasn’t an enemy or a threat, but if she got in his way she would slow him down a second or two. And if Leeson knew Victor wasn’t Kooi, he would be alert and ready. In the one second it would take to deal with Coughlin, added to the two seconds for Dietrich, combined with the second or two to get past Francesca, Leeson would have gained four to five seconds in total to react to the attack, draw his gun, release the safety, aim, and—
Victor would take a .22 calibre bullet in his centre mass.
At this range Leeson wouldn’t miss. And even if he didn’t score a one-shot drop, Victor wouldn’t then be able to reach him in time to stop him firing a second, a third and a fourth.
He knew his only hope was that Leeson would panic and react too slowly in his shock and surprise. But Leeson wasn’t the same man he had been twenty-four hours ago. By having him guard the corridor and kill the Georgian who had tried to flank them, Victor had given Leeson his first experience of facing violent death and triumphing. Leeson would be less terrified in a similar situation now he knew he could survive one, and less fear meant less shock and less shock meant a faster reaction.
He had given Leeson exactly what he needed in order to kill him now.
Victor watched the younger man. He watched because he was waiting for that first sign. He watched because he would still attack even though it was futile, because while fighting there was always a chance and because even if that chance never materialised, Victor would die fighting as he’d always known he would.
He watched Leeson. Waiting for the first word. The first expression.
‘Good to see you boys are getting along,’ Leeson said.
‘We’re best buds,’ Coughlin said.
He slid his hand from the table, robbing Victor of his opening attack, but shifted in his seat to face Leeson. Victor pictured grabbing the fork first, not the knife, and stabbing it into the side of Coughlin’s now exposed neck, puncturing the carotid, leaving the knife free to drive into Dietrich’s left eye, saving a second. He would then get to Leeson a second quicker, before he could get his little SIG aimed, enabling Victor to rip from his hand and use it on Dietrich and then Coughlin if the initial