Caspian waited in the shade of the alley, his back against the stone wall. He thought about pulling his Wilson Combat SFX9 out of its holster, but there were too many people. And he wasn’t about to shoot the woman anyway. He needed answers, and she might be the key, the one who could unravel the entire thing. Having a gun in his hand would only complicate things.
Five seconds. Then he heard her footsteps. Light and quick.
She came around the corner fast, too fast in his professional opinion, her eyes still hunting forward. Until they locked on his.
He saw the flicker of surprise as her brain caught up to what was in front of her, but then it vanished, replaced by something colder. The knife appeared so quickly it caught him off guard. She moved fast, faster than he’d expected, holding the knife in a reverse grip and stepping in tight, cutting the distance and his reaction time.
Caspian pivoted his hips and sidestepped, his left forearm snapped across her knife wrist, deflecting her strike. She turned, tried to spin with him, but he stepped in, broke her posture with a powerful open-palm strike to her chest with his right hand, and kicked her back leg out from under her. As she fell, he caught her wrist and twisted it in a controlled lock.
“Drop it, or I break your wrist,” he warned her, adding a bit more torque.
She let the knife go. He forced her up, almost lifting her clean off the ground, and slammed her, stomach first, into the wall. He heard her breath rush out of her lungs. He pinned her there, twisting her right arm behind her back with enough force to make her knees buckle. But the woman wasn’t a quitter. She stomped on his feet, hard. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he angled her wrist one inch higher.
“Don’t try this again or you’ll lose the use of your shoulder for the next couple months,” he warned her in English. “Scream, and the same thing happens.”
He wasn’t bluffing. Another half inch and her shoulder would go.
To anyone walking past the mouth of the alley, they would look like a couple caught in a heated embrace. A little rough, maybe, but nothing alarming.
Caspian lowered his mouth to her ear.
“I’m gonna ask you a series of questions,” he said. “Answer them truthfully and you’ll walk away from this. If you don’t, the first thing that will happen is I’ll dislocate your shoulder. There won’t be a second warning. I’ll snap your neck here and there. Understood?”
She nodded, but he could see she was pissed off and probably surprised to find herself at a disadvantage.
“Who else is coming after me?”
“No one. I’m alone—”
Caspian didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. He cranked her wrist up by at least three inches and drove his weight forward. There was a sharp, wet pop as her shoulder dislocated. Before she could scream, he let go of her arm and clamped one hand over her mouth. She twisted in agony, but he held her still.
He counted to five, then said, “I don’t have time for games,” he whispered. “You know what happens next time you lie. There’s no need for me to repeat it.”
Her head, which was turned to the right, was against the wall. He could see tears running down her right cheek. Her breath came in sharp, desperate bursts through her nose.
“Who else is coming after me?” he asked, knowing that this time, she’d tell the truth. He removed his hand to let her talk.
“One more. I swear. Only one more,” she said. “Shit!”
“How much time do we have before they show up?”
She started to tremble, but not from pain. From fear. She didn’t know the answer to his question, and she was afraid he wouldn’t believe her.
“I ... I really don’t know,” she said. “It’s the truth. You have to—”
“Shut up!” he hissed, not wanting her to think he’d show her even an ounce of mercy.
“You were onVelocein Port de Sóller. I saw you,” he said, then added, taking a chance, “And I know you work for Blackstone Security. Now, tell me your name.”
If the woman was surprised that he knew the company she was working for, she didn’t show it.
Unless she’s not working for them and she has no idea what I’m talking about ...
“Verena Kaine,” she said.
The name didn’t ring a bell. “Where’s Paul Hobb?”
Caspian felt Verena’s knees go soft again. He knew what it meant. Hobb was dead.
