Going Under_ A Bill Roberts Thriller - Silas Payton Page 0,61

of his rib cage. He looked down at the same time as he kicked out. His foot was in motion as he saw the knife protruding from his chest...

...with Bethany's hand still on the grip.

His foot connected with her pelvis with a sudden force.

His world slowed when he realized the knife was likely through his chest wall and the last thing he'd want, was for it to be...

...removed.

Bethany was knocked off balance and fell to the floor, her hand still gripped on the knife, taking it with her. She landed hard on the floor, hitting her head.

The moment the knife came out of his chest, Bill heard a hissing noise as the vacuum of his chest cavity was broken. The pressure, pulling air into his chest was allowing his lungs to collapse.

The pain was blinding, but he knew if he didn't stop the leak of air into his chest, his lungs would collapse entirely and he'd quickly stop breathing. He lifted his shirt to see a half inch red line between two ribs. He slapped his hand tight over the wound, trying to create a seal.

He carefully got up off the floor and, from where he was standing, scanned the coffee shop. He noticed some baked goods at the cash, covered in cellophane wrap.

Bethany was still on the floor, but was slowly starting to move around.

He lumbered to the counter and grabbed the plastic wrap from a plate of cookies.

The lady at the cash frowned as he lifted his shirt. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked with an attitude.

"You can call an ambulance, if it wouldn't be too much of a bother," he replied. He placed the plastic wrap over the hole in his chest and applied pressure with his hand. "I've been stabbed and need to get to the hospital. And ask for the police to be sent as well. The person who stabbed me is on the floor over there," he said, nodding toward the window.

The cashier looked over his shoulder and said, "You mean the one heading out the front door?"

He turned to see Bethany halfway out the entrance.

This is not my day. After all this...you are not getting away.

Fighting against both the intense pain and shortness of breath, he started across the cafe after her.

Chapter 63

The Doctor

Dr. Nelson had everything he needed to leave the city, but there was one piece of unfinished business he needed to take care of. It didn't bother him much that the Toronto Police had been looking for him -- the mafia on the other hand, was a different story. He'd enjoyed a long relationship with them and didn't want to lose his cash cow. His biggest concern at the moment, was making sure the final part of his plan worked. The reach of the mafia was far greater than the police, and he knew if he disappointed Mr. Manchesi, he'd be on the run like he'd never been before.

At the corner of Bathurst and Sydenham streets, was the Sydenham Street Coffee Shop, a small coffeehouse with large pane windows that opened up, allowing the customers to sit and enjoy the fresh air. As a patron, the doctor liked the clear view out the open windows. Sitting in his car across the street, he now liked the clear view in, of the patrons. He waited, watching for his two guests of honour to show.

He didn't like Mr. Manchesi changing his plans last minute. He had Bethany primed to take care of her boyfriend, Louis Duprey but the Inspector must have become a more urgent matter. Either way, he didn't care now. His session went very well this morning and he knew she was ready. He also had the element of surprise in his favour.

At five minutes to eleven, an Audi pulled up and parked on the street a hundred feet away. Bethany stepped out of the vehicle and started walking back towards the coffeehouse. The doctor noticed she had brought the same large purse she had in his office a few hours earlier. He hoped she still had the knife he had hid in the bottom. She had enough crap in there, he was sure she wouldn't even notice it.

Bethany made her way to the front door, opened it and walked over to a table at the window.

Perfect. She's not a hundred percent useless.

His impatience growing, he was entirely tired of waiting. He looked up and down the street.

Where the hell is the cop?

Almost on cue, an