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The first thing out of Christoph’s mouth surprised me.
He said, “Why did you throw the girl off the bridge?”
“She’s so light I thought she could fly.” Right now I was willing to say anything to buy a few more seconds for Natalie to escape. The problem was I had no idea where she or the other killer were. It had been quiet for too long.
I needed to do something. Fast. I also wanted to make Christoph scream. I was hoping that might bring his partner away from the lake and back to the bridge. It was a lot of speculation on my part.
I kept watching the Dutchman. He seemed pretty confident. Natalie’s blow across his face and my full-body block hadn’t seemed to slow him down too much. Sure, his nose still leaked a little blood. It was clearly broken and almost flat against his face, but that wasn’t affecting his reflexes. At least not that I could see.
Then I realized he was waiting just like me. He was waiting to hear Ollie call up and say he had caught the girl. That wasn’t going to fly with me. I’d taken all the abuse I wanted to take.
Christoph finally turned his head and looked toward the bank, hoping to see his partner. His gun was still in front of him, pointed right at my stomach, and the knife was gripped at the ready by his hip. It wasn’t a long look, but it was enough.
I made my move.
The situation was almost identical to what they put us in during training with the NYPD. It’s tough: a gun is extended toward you, the shooter’s reaction is slower than the captive’s action, and you have no other choice. Though there was the added complication of that knife.
My hands and feet moved at almost the same time. My hands came down, one arm swinging to knock the knife out of his left hand almost too easily, just as I stepped forward and closed the distance. My other arm swung toward Christoph’s gun hand a fraction of a second later.
Then the gun went off.
CHAPTER 89
I HEARD THE roar of the gun as soon as my body had cleared the path of Christoph’s pistol. It echoed along the dark banks of the lake. The heat from the blast penetrated my shirt. That’s how close it was. The smell of gunpowder crowded my nose. The bullet missed me on its way to God knew where.
As soon as he fired, the slide from the pistol automatically rocked back from the gases in the cartridge. It sliced the top of my left hand, which was holding Christoph’s wrist. That kept the slide from slamming forward again.
While the gun was useless, I used my right hand, which was closer to the pistol, to reach down and press the magazine release. I didn’t know the make of the pistol, but there are two main methods for dropping a pistol magazine. Thank God the button for the magazine was near the trigger. The other way would be on the butt of the pistol itself.
My index finger found the button and I heard the satisfying click followed by the thunk of the magazine bouncing off the bridge and dropping into the water below.
The fight was a little more even now.
I liked the way the Dutchman just gawked for a moment when I popped out the gun’s magazine. I guess no one had ever fought back against him. Or, like most people, he had seen just a tad too much TV. That wasn’t a move people saw very often. Honestly, I’d never done it before. But I wasn’t about to fight fairly.
Christoph stepped back and stared at his useless gun. I took the opportunity to throw a knee into his thigh. As he grunted and took another step back, I got a chance to throw a big punch at his face.
He surprised me by blocking it with his left arm. There was fight left in him. And he was still pretty fast.
But I was able to also grab his right wrist and rip the pistol from his hand. The force drove us apart. When I turned, Christoph was standing with both hands balled into fists.
He smirked. “The gun’s empty. What good is it going to do you now?”
It was a good question. I decided to demonstrate rather than explain. I flipped the pistol so I was holding it by the barrel, then swung it like a bludgeon. I kept swinging the pistol in wide arcs. Most of the blows bounced off his forearms, but I could feel the butt of the pistol dig into skin and bones. He yelped as each blow landed.
Then I threw a new wrinkle into the pattern. I kicked out with my left leg. I didn’t expect it to do much. Just catch his attention. Which it did. As soon as he shifted and looked down at my leg, I swung hard with my right arm, the pistol still in my hand, like the head of a hammer. I caught him hard, across the chin. His head snapped back and blood sprayed out from his split lips.
I stepped back to give him room to fall. Instead, the tall Dutchman stood on wobbly legs. It was like a point of pride for him to remain upright. He was gasping for breath, and every time he breathed out, blood spewed from his mouth.
When he didn’t drop to the ground immediately, I recognized I didn’t have time to wait for his show. The fight had pushed him back almost to the end of the bridge, only four feet away. I quickly glanced over the side and saw that the muddy shore was underneath us.
I couldn’t see or hear Natalie or the other killer. I couldn’t wait any longer. I tossed the pistol far into the lake. Then I grabbed Christoph in a bear hug. I lifted the tall Dutchman off his feet and tossed him over the side of the bridge. It was a lot harder than when I threw Natalie over.
I knew he’d miss the water. That was the point.
CHAPTER 90
I RACED OFF the bridge and scrambled down to the banks of Pae Lake. Christoph had landed almost exactly like I needed him to. He was stuck in the mud up to his shoulders. His left arm was pinned under him in the dark muck that surrounded the lake. Just his head and right arm had escaped the gooey prison. He looked like an alien from a cheap science-fiction movie.
