‘That isn’t an option now. I can take Yukiko, and I can find the other two in my own good time. I don’t need anything from you except to shut the fuck up.’
Inwardly I smiled. Not that it was a happy situation by any stretch of the imagination, but Rink’s words had got the rise I’d been hoping for from Markus. I wanted him angry, and his mind confused by conflicting messages. He didn’t know that Rink was bluffing — he would no sooner hand over the two old guys than exchange Yukiko’s life for his.
‘Let her go, Markus. It’s over,’ I said.‘The police know your identity and they will catch you. You can help yourself by sparing Yukiko now.’
‘I killed a cop,’ Markus pointed out. ‘Nothing will help me. I’ll go to prison for life for killing him, so I might as well take the others. It’s not as if they can extend my sentence beyond life, is it?’
‘You didn’t kill a cop. He survived. There’s still a way to end this peaceably.’
‘I don’t want peace. I want the ones who murdered my father dead.’
‘Hurt my mom, and I guarantee you’ll never see life beyond these walls.’ Rink’s tone had changed. He was no longer attempting to reason, but trying to goad Markus into making a move on him, not on his mother.
But Markus wasn’t playing.
‘How do you suppose that’s going to happen? Seeing as I’m calling the shots now?’
‘The second you use that knife on my mom, I swear to God I’ll be on you. I’ll rip your fuckin’ head off your shoulders.’
Markus laughed. He glanced at Yukiko. ‘Must be great knowing you have such a loving son? Pity my dad didn’t get the same opportunity.’
‘Your dad was a piece of shit,’ Rink snapped.
‘Your dad was the piece of shit,’ Markus came back. ‘Gave me great pleasure when I killed the bastard. As it will when I skin your mother alive for what you just said.’
Yukiko and I had been holding eye contact. She appeared incredibly calm for someone seconds from death. For the first time she said something. ‘Kill me, but let my son go.’
Markus glanced down at her. ‘You’re the one who dies. I’m not interested in him.’ He did then what many would do by reflex: he used the blade of the knife to indicate Rink. The knife was away from Yukiko’s carotid artery for no more than a second, but it was the break I’d been waiting for. I snatched my SIG from my waistband, concealed from view all this time from Markus. I fired.
I was shooting to hit his hand, but my aim was poor and rushed.
The round hit the steel blade of the knife and shattered it into glittering shards. Some of the exploding splinters hit Yukiko, digging into her shoulder, but some also hit Markus in the face. He roared in surprise, leaping back from the old woman. He was still holding the rope.
Then everything happened quickly.
There was a blur of bodies.
Markus hauled back on the rope, but Rink was also moving and grasped the knot before the noose could cinch around Yukiko’s throat. Pulled with force the rope could tear her skull from her frail body.
Off balance, Yukiko was already falling.
Rink scooped her up in his other arm, wrestling to wrench the rope from Markus’s hands.
I couldn’t get a clear shot at Markus for the tussling bodies.
Then Rink broke free, hauling his mother from the murderer’s control and turning away.
Yukiko gasped for breath, her chest heaving.
Rink’s face was ashen as he looked down at his mother as she struggled for life. After everything, was her existing heart condition going to be the deciding factor?
‘Get her out of here, Rink,’ I shouted. ‘Leave this bastard to me.’
Markus had fled towards the rear of the room, an indistinct figure in the dimness. Through the hole in the roof where Rink had made his unexpected entrance starlight was our only mode of illumination. I shot at him as he leaped behind the piles of furniture. Markus returned fire.
I backpedalled, moving to keep my body between Markus’s aim and my friend as Rink carried his mom through the portal into the open air.
Furniture crashed down as the murderer fought to find a way out of the building. But he was stuck back there. I fired, now that Rink and Yukiko were out of the way, and began moving for him once more.
Markus fired twice.
I shot back, heard him curse. But he wasn’t hit, because there was no pain in his voice, only frustration.
He fired again, and I heard the unmistakable clack of the slide staying open.
He swore again. There was no sound of him slapping in a fresh magazine, or racking the slide to arm the gun.
‘Are you out of bullets, Markus? Now that’s a real shame.’
‘Fucker, I’ll still kill you.’
‘Come on then,’ I shouted back. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this.’
He didn’t understand at first.
I waited.
‘Well, punk, aren’t you going to come out and face me?’
‘You’re armed.’
‘I don’t need a gun for the likes of you.’ I threw my SIG to one side. What Markus didn’t know was that I too was out of bullets, but let the bastard think I was giving him an honourable go at fighting his way free. In truth I’d have preferred to put a couple rounds through his skull, but I was happy to go man to man. Plus, it would’ve become evident that I was out of ammo the second I tried to flush him from the furniture piles, so why waste energy and place myself in the compromising position of having to clamber over chairs and tables to get at him? ‘Come out, Markus. Show me what you’ve got.’
Chapter 42
Markus came forward, but he paused as he checked me out. I had the door to my back and presented only a solid silhouette to him. Perhaps he thought I was still carrying another concealed weapon.
‘Quit stalling,’ I told him. ‘You were happy to beat old people to death, not too keen when you’re up against someone your own age?’
‘I don’t fear you.’
‘You should.’
‘I want to know something…’
I thought he was going to ask why it was so important for me to stand between him and the Ringtons. He wouldn’t understand. But that wasn’t it. He surprised me with his next question.
‘What happens if I win?’
‘Then you’re free to walk out of here,’ I said. Not that I was planning on allowing that to happen.
He studied me and I returned the favour. His body language betrayed him, even in the dim starlight. I could tell that he was bunching himself, readying himself to make his attack, thinking maybe he had a good chance of escape after all. He was a big guy, fit, powerful and relatively healthy — but for where I’d shot him in the ribs, but that had proven a minor injury. He was obviously tough, being employed in the transportation of dangerous felons you had to be reasonably handy in a fight, and the presence of the makiwara back at his house told me he practised his unarmed skills regularly. The thing was, it was one thing throwing your weight around when manhandling shackled prisoners and old men incapable of putting up much resistance, quite another when facing someone determined to hit you back. I fancied my odds at being the one to walk out.
Then again, what the hell did I know about betting?
Markus lunged at me, planted one foot firmly on which to pivot and threw a high roundhouse kick at my head. I was surprised by the unorthodox attack. Reflex took over and I ducked, but Markus’s shin scuffed the side of my skull and rocked me for a second. I dodged too late, got a shake of Markus’s head in return. He laughed as I swiped at the raw patch above my ear.
‘Bastard,’ I called him.
Markus danced back. Light on his feet, his hands held in a boxer’s guard.