Second Shot

Her right index finger fractured cleanly halfway between her knuckle and the first joint. By the time the real pain hit and she began to scream, I had the pistol grip firm in my own fist and the end of the extended barrel pointing square at the center of her body mass.

Rosalind fell back, keening, cradling her injured right hand across her chest with her left. Disbelief that she’d been beaten, and fear of that defeat, amplified her distress.

I took a halting step after her and brought the Beretta up, swapping to a double-handed grip now. My right arm was already trembling with the weight of the gun and the effort of aiming it. The only way I could be sure of my shot was to jam the end of the suppressor against Rosalind’s mouth, forcing her lips open, hearing the click of the steel against her teeth.

For the longest moment we stood like that, suspended almost. I felt every quivering muscle in my arm begin to tighten and felt no hesitation or regret. There was only a fierce roaring glory somewhere in the back of my mind.

“Charlie, for God’s sake!” Matt yelped. “You can’t!”

“I can,” I said through my teeth. “She tried to kill me. She even succeeded, however briefly. She’s responsible for Simone’s death. Oh, I could kill her like swatting a fly, Matt, trust me.”

Right at that second I was consumed by the enormous and almost irresistible desire to squeeze that trigger and watch her lifeless body fall. To hell with the legal system. To hell with the security cameras that I knew covered the inside of the store. I wanted justice. I wanted revenge. And I wanted it now. …

And then cold, hard realities seeped in. Cold enough and hard enough to have me dropping the Beretta away from Rosalind’s startled face and stumbling back away from her until I had the support of the nearest wall. I found I was in the far corner of the small lobby area, but I didn’t remember getting there.

“Don’t worry, Matt,” I managed. “I said I could kill her, but I’m not going to.” I shook my head. “She’s an evil bitch and I hope they electrocute or poison her, or whatever the hell it is they do to people over here who’ve committed murder, but that doesn’t mean I have to do their dirty work for them.”

Rosalind sagged against the outer glass, cradling her injured hand. Her face was wet with tears but she didn’t seem to be aware that she was crying again, from pain and shock this time, rather than frustration. I looked round, exhausted, and found my crutch was lying too far away for me to reach. Matt had to retrieve it for me. He helped Rosalind to her feet and the three of us finally made it into the store proper.

“Where’s Ella, Rosalind?” I demanded, more quietly now. For a moment I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she seemed to come out of her daze.

“In the back,” she said. “In the stockroom. I don’t know exactly. Reynolds didn’t say”

“Matt,” I said, “find me something we can tie her with, would you?”

“But she’s got a broken finger,” he pointed out.

“So? She was going to kill the pair of us.”

“Oh … yeah. OK.”

‘And find me a swivel chair,” I said. “Preferably one with castors on the bottom.”

He disappeared behind the counter and was soon back with a roll of brown packing tape and a typist’s chair with a high back and two sturdy-looking arms that came out from the underneath of the frame. One wheel squeaked slightly as he pushed it towards me.

I gave Rosalind a rough shove in the chest and she sat down heavily.

“Oh,” Matt said, surprise in his voice, and when I glanced at him he gave an embarrassed shrug. “I thought the chair was for you.”

I bit back a laugh, not sure if I’d be able to stop once I started, and kept the gun on her while Matt taped her in. The packing tape turned out not to be the no-noise type and every piece we ripped off the roll seemed horribly loud inside the empty store.

It only took a few minutes before we had Rosalind’s wrists and ankles bound with enough tape to ensure that, if we’d mailed her, she would have arrived intact in just about any country, anywhere in the world.

“Now what do we do with her?”

“We leave her,” I said. “We have to find Ella.”

‘And what will you do then, Charlie?” Rosalind threw at me, disdainful. “You might have gotten the jump on Reynolds once, but he won’t make the same mistake twice. He’s got someone with him-a professional-and he’ll be ready for you this time.”

“Like you were, you mean,” I said with more bravado than I felt. “We’ll take our chances.” I glanced at Matt. “Tape her mouth.”

Matt stuck a last piece of the packing tape across Rosalind’s lips. I patted down her pockets, retrieving her mobile phone and a spare magazine for the Beretta out of her inside coat pocket.

“Do we leave her here?”

I jerked my head towards the entrance. “Outside. I don’t want her causing any trouble.”

“It’s freezing out there,” Matt protested.

I looked at him. “Good,” I said. “It should slow her down a bit.”