Manus kept his arm extended, the hand holding the thumb drive less than a yard from Delgado. “Then take it to him. I’ll watch the woman.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll get the fuck out of this van.”
“Call the director,” Manus said. “You’re not supposed to harm her.”
Manus couldn’t predict exactly what Delgado would do next. Reach for the drive? Have Manus set it on the floor? Make Manus change to a less advantageous posture or position? Call the director? It was impossible to say. But whatever he did next, he’d gotten what he’d wanted. Meaning he no longer needed to threaten the woman. Meaning he was going to stop pointing the pistol at her, and point it at Manus again, instead. That moment would be Manus’s best opportunity. Probably his last opportunity.
He sensed the move an instant before it happened. And as Delgado’s arm swung left from the woman and back to Manus, Manus was already shooting in with a drop step, his extended left hand blurring in and slapping Delgado’s gun hand up and back. The pistol discharged. Manus closed his hand around it, keeping it pointed away, and speared a forearm into Delgado’s throat. The gun went off again. Delgado gagged and fumbled at his pants pocket with his free hand. Manus grabbed the hand, head-butted Delgado’s face, then stepped back and shot a knee into his balls. Delgado folded forward and Manus yanked his arms wide, bringing his face in for another head-butt, then clubbed him in the neck with another forearm as he went down. Delgado pitched face-first onto the floor and Manus tore the gun from his hand.
Delgado lay still. For an instant, Manus imagined stomping his neck… stomping again and again until the man had been functionally decapitated. The urge was so strong his leg actually trembled. But with everything else he was doing, if he killed Delgado, who he knew the director valued… he just didn’t know.
He drew in a huge breath and blew it out, forcing himself to focus. If he could just get Evie to tell him where she had hidden the drive. If she would promise she would never, ever say anything to anyone. Manus would guarantee her silence to the director, with his own life as collateral. She would never say anything if she knew he would die as a result, would she?
Yes, that was the better way, the surer way. He wanted to kill Delgado, but what he wanted wasn’t the point.
He dropped to his knees and ran his hands up and down Delgado’s legs and torso. He found a wallet, a knife, a cell phone, a pair of handcuff keys on a small ring, and the keys to the Sprinter. He tossed aside everything but the cell phone and the handcuff keys. Then he folded Delgado’s hands across his back, put a knee across his wrists, and looked over at Evie, who had shrunk back into the corner, her eyes wide.
“Are you hurt?” he said.
She shook her head once, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly with her breathing.
“Are you handcuffed?” he said. “I can’t see.”
She nodded. A tear slid down her cheek.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay now. I have the keys. Come closer so I can unlock the cuffs. I don’t want to let him up.”
She hesitated for a moment, then crab-walked forward, turning when she was close so Manus could access the cuffs. He popped one side free. She turned to face him, rubbing her free wrist. He handed her the key. She undid the other side, let the cuffs and keys drop to the floor, then pressed her fingers to her ears and grimaced. Manus realized the sound of the shots, magnified inside the Sprinter, had hurt her.
Delgado stirred under Manus’s weight. “Hand me the cuffs,” Manus said. “He’s starting to wake up.”
She crouched, staring at Delgado, seemingly paralyzed. Manus realized she was in a kind of shock. He leaned over, snatched up the cuffs, and got them around Delgado’s wrists. Then he stood, stooping to avoid the roof. “We have to go.”
Evie stood and backed away, rubbing her wrists. “What is this? Who are you?”
Manus shook his head. “We have to go.”
She glanced at Delgado, then back to Manus. “Is this some kind of good cop / bad cop?”
Manus moved to the side door and slid it open. “We have to go. My truck is close by.”
She glanced at Delgado again, then suddenly stepped forward and kicked him soccer style full in the face. Delgado’s head rocketed back and blood shot from his nose. Evie grimaced and clutched her foot. Delgado rolled back and forth and bled.
Manus pulled Delgado out of the Sprinter and yanked him to his feet. The smaller man was choking and spitting. Blood ran freely from his crumpled nose.
Evie came to the door. Manus saw she had picked up her shoe. She started to step out, then paused and glanced around, obviously disoriented, holding the shoe in front of her as though it could somehow protect her from all this insanity. Manus realized she had no idea where she even was.
“The Triadelphia Reservoir,” Manus said. “My truck is a quarter mile away. I should have thought to bring your other shoe. I’m sorry. But it’s in the truck. So is your purse.”
He switched on the Defender and shone it in Delgado’s face. “Get in front,” he said. “Driver’s seat.”
Delgado spat out a huge wad of phlegm and blood. “Do you know what the director is going to do when he hears about this?” he said.
Manus slid the Sprinter door closed and gave the handcuff keys to Evie. “Follow us around. I need to keep him here.” He took Delgado by the collar and marched him to the front of the Sprinter, Evie just behind them. Manus pushed Delgado up into the driver’s seat, then circled around to the other side. Delgado watched as he moved, his eyes dark with rage. Manus got in, gripped Delgado’s collar again, and pressed the muzzle of the pistol just behind his right ear. “Turn toward the driver-side door,” he said. “So your back is to the steering wheel.”
Delgado glared at him. “Motherfucker, you can’t just leave me here. This is bullshit.”
“You want to be left cuffed to the wheel, or with a bullet in your head?”
Delgado said nothing.
Manus nodded to Evie. “Uncuff his hands, then cuff them back through the steering wheel.” He let Delgado feel the tight grip on his collar, the muzzle behind his ear.
Her hands were shaking, but she managed, handing the keys to Manus when she was done. Manus double-locked and double-checked the cuffs, and then, satisfied, dropped the keys on the floor, slid out, and went around. When he made it to the driver-side door, he saw that Delgado was saying something to Evie.
“…but first I’m going to make your little deaf prick son watch. Or maybe I’ll make you watch me do him.”
Manus looked at Evie to see her response. She didn’t answer. Instead, a flatness crept into her eyes, an expressionlessness into her features. “Give me the gun,” she said, her eyes never leaving Delgado.
Delgado recognized what had come over her. He looked at Manus and shook his head. “If that bitch kills me, the director will make you pay. And you know it.”
“Give me the gun,” Evie said again.
Manus shook his head. “We can’t. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way.”
Delgado turned to her and smiled. “See you soon, sweetheart. Love that shaved bush.”
The flatness in Evie’s eyes was suddenly replaced by rage. She grabbed Delgado by the hair and bashed his face into the edge of the door. Twice. A third time. Delgado jerked his arms, but his wrists were secured and there was nothing he could do to defend himself. Manus threw an arm around her and pulled her back. A bloody clump of hair plugs pulled free, and Delgado howled.
Evie tried to twist loose. Manus held her firmly, letting her understand it was useless. After a moment, she stopped struggling. Manus let her go and watched her warily.