“I see it,” I answered. Dekker was standing with his back to me. Apparently he didn’t think I would catch up to him. That was his fault for underestimating technology in a place as security conscious as an international airport.
I suppose I could have said something clever or tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. That’s what they do in movies. But that’s not how it is done in real life. I came up behind him and grabbed him by the neck. Forcing his head down I managed to make it connect with the table full of stuffed badgers in front of him.
Unfortunately for me, the table had stuffed badgers on it and I wasn’t able to stun him. Arje Dekker pushed up and back, shoving me into a display of fluffy bunnies. By the time I steadied myself, he’d turned around and realized who I was.
“ Bombay!” Dekker cried, and reached for something to throw at me.
I stood there in shock as a Slinky collided with my forehead. My hands felt around me and grasped something square and plastic. I whipped the Etch A Sketch at his head, the tablet careening off his chin. As he recovered from the blow, I grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him deeper into the store. I hoped there would be a back door somewhere, since I noticed we were drawing a small crowd.
Dekker kicked out, connecting with my left shin, and I dropped him for a second. That was all the time he needed to grab a weapon. Without thinking I pulled a similar item from a box. And that was how we ended up fighting a duel with plastic lightsabers.
We must have looked strange-two middle-aged men slashing away at each other with toy swords complete with sound effects. I managed to land the majority of blows and went for the final thrust, only to have the collapsible lightsaber, um, collapse. So I threw the handle at him and grabbed him again, dragging him toward the back wall.
Dekker reached out and snagged a display case. I threw him through it, causing no less than thirty or forty Teletubbies to begin singing nonsensically. By now I was getting worried. The shop probably had surveillance cameras, and we’d put on quite a show. In fact, I’d bet Jackson was laughing hysterically. I was a bit surprised none of the staff intervened or even rebuked us. No doubt airport security had been called.
I pulled Dekker by the collar toward the back door. It was a bathroom. No exit. Dekker shoved me backward and locked himself inside. Fantastic.
There was shouting in the distance. The authorities were on their way. Killing Vic was out of the question.
“Jack, can you do something about the surveillance cameras?” I asked quietly while taking off my jacket, and started messing with the doorknob. It was a simple lock, easy to pick if I had the right tools.
“Already did. They have nothing but static,” he responded. “It’s a neat little program Mom came up with…”
The boy was chatty, just like his mom. “Thanks, Jack. I’ll check in with you later.” I hung up, quickly found a chemistry set back at the toy store and punched through the box. Science kits usually have probes and other tools you can use to pick a lock. Unfortunately, the box had that plastic clamshell casing that keeps everything pretty and safe inside. I didn’t have time for this frustration. Ignoring the sharp edges that tore at my flesh, I ripped the plastic apart and retrieved the tools.
I managed to get the door open quickly and dragged Dekker out of the bathroom and into the mall. It wasn’t easy to look normal when you were bleeding and dragging a man behind you (who clearly had no interest in going with you) who was also bleeding. It wouldn’t be long before we attracted enough attention to cause trouble. And I didn’t have time for that. If I took him to the plane I could secure him and go after Ronnie. But the hangar was too far away. I was much closer to the baggage carousel.
Pulling my protesting vic behind me, I stepped outside and hailed a cab. To his credit, the driver didn’t give my situation a second glance, and soon we were headed to the newspaper where Ronnie was researching.
The ride was short, but I had enough time to bind Dekker’s hands with his own belt. The cab pulled up to our stop and I paid him and dragged Dekker out and into the building.
We’d just entered the elevator when I realized my vic was apparently quite the Houdini. As the doors closed, he broke his bonds and lunged. I swung my arm up and stepped aside, clotheslining him in the throat. He didn’t go down like I’d hoped.
“You don’t give up, do you?” Dekker growled as he punched me in the head.
“Don’t know the meaning of the word,” I replied, kneeing him in the gut.
And as the Muzak played “The Girl from Ipanema,” Dekker and I pounded the hell out of each other in a three-foot-by-three-foot lift. Arje remembered my weak spots and was getting the best of me with several punches to my shoulder. I managed to crack his nose. The snapping sound made me feel a little better.
Soon the linoleum was slick with blood. Dekker leaned for a side kick and succeeded in plunging his foot through a hole in the wall he created. I punched him in the groin and took a lot of satisfaction in his cry of pain. I hadn’t even noticed that the elevator had stopped until we both fell forward through the open doors.
“Cy? Arje?” Veronica said as she stood over us.
Ronnie?
Before Dekker could react I slugged him hard on the chin, driving his head back and rendering him unconscious. “Stay where you are. I’ve got to get him out of here.”
Veronica stared, wide eyed.
Somehow I managed to rise to my feet and drag Dekker across the hall to a bathroom. What was it with me and bathrooms lately? I handed Veronica a few paper towels and asked her to clean up the bloody smear trailing down the hall. She didn’t say a word.
Ronnie joined me in the small bathroom a few minutes later with red-stained paper towels. I locked the door behind her, leaning against it to catch my breath.
“So, this is the Sentinel’s office,” I gasped as nonchalantly as possible.
“Yup.”
I made my way to the sink and started washing up. “I’m sorry to cut short your research, but we have to leave. Now.”
Veronica looked pale. She shrugged.
Somehow I had to kill him in front of her. If I didn’t, he would continue tracking her down. And I couldn’t have that either.
“Um, I…” She started, but couldn’t seem to finish. “Why did you two end up here?”
I shook my head. “No time to explain. He’s dangerous, Ronnie.” I hoped she caught my meaning.
“Can’t we just call the police or something? Then they could lock him up-”
“No. If he wants to, he’ll have no problem hunting you down anywhere. This ends now.” On the outside, I was calm. On the inside I was shaking. I’d never killed anyone in the presence of a non-Bombay before. And I was pretty sure that would spell the end of my relationship with Miss Gale.
Ronnie pulled on my arm. “Let’s go! Let’s just go!”
I avoided looking into her eyes. I didn’t want to see what I thought was in there. It made me sick inside to even consider killing Dekker in front of her.
Looking down at the unconscious and bloody man before me, I realized that there was only one way to handle this. And it might have been my worst idea ever.
Chapter Twenty-six
Bob Wiley: What are you doing with the gun, Dr. Marvin?
Dr. Leo Marvin: Death Therapy, Bob. It’s a guaranteed cure.
– WHAT ABOUT BOB?
The idea of doing a good job is instilled in every Bombay from the minute we begin our training at the age of five. We are taught to make sure each assignment is completed with no screwups. Every Bombay has their own modus operandi. And every one of us takes pride in completing the assignment in a timely manner.