The Last Assassin

But I wasn't myself. My body was back on the street, but my mind was still in Midori's apartment, digging out from under an avalanche of hope. Instead of looking away, for a second I stared straight at him, like a man unable to avert his eyes from the scene of a grisly accident.

He looked at me, too. And the recognition hardening on his face was undeniable. I realized he was seeing the same expression on mine.

No, I thought, no, fuck no…

Wong slowed down, his mind no doubt struggling to sort it all through. Whatever planning he had done had probably gone on the assumption that he would spot me surreptitiously, not that we would suddenly spot each other. His body was responding to his unconscious wish for more time, for a few more precious seconds to decide what to do.

I decided faster. It wasn't even a decision as such, more a reflex honed by a lifetime of killing. A reflex that had been delayed by my unaccustomed emotional state, but that now, as I recognized the threat to Midori and my child, snapped ferociously into place.

I went straight for him. As I closed the distance, his right hand moved to his coat pocket, probably where he kept the Balisong he was reputed to carry.

There's value to favoring a certain weapon and to practicing with it regularly. But there's a potential downside, too: you can come to rely on it, and to try to reach for it, when you would have been better off doing something else. This is why cops are often killed by knifers with their guns half out of their holsters. The cop sees the knife coming, but is so dependent on his pistol that he fails to recognize he's not going to have time to deploy it before he's already being stabbed. If someone has the jump on you, the better tactic is to create distance or otherwise slow down the attack and then access your favored weapon so that you'll actually have a chance to use it. Otherwise, the gun in your holster might as well have been in a safe back home.

But apparently Wong didn't know all that. He reached for the Balisong, and while he was reaching for it, I reached him.

I stepped in and blasted him across the front and right side of the neck with my right forearm, in the same instant catching his right bicep with my left hand. The neck shot might shock his brachial plexus and interrupt the functioning of his right arm. The bicep grab was backup.

Wong grunted and straightened from the impact. I nailed him again with my forearm, and some of the rigidity flowed out of his body. Continuing to move in so I was facing him from his right side, I pushed his arm higher with the bicep grip and slipped my right hand to the back of his neck to arrest his backward movement. Then I yanked his head down and slammed my knee into his face. His head bounced and I kneed him in the face again. And again.

I felt his body go slack. I kicked his feet out from under him and swept him to his back. He hit the pavement hard. I raised my foot and stomped his exposed throat. His body jerked but he was already out and probably never even felt the blow that killed him.

The whole encounter had lasted less than ten seconds. I glanced around, fully tactical again. I heard footsteps coming from beyond the same corner Wong had rounded moments earlier, and coiled to kill again. But there was no need. It was Dox. I was so ready to go off on him that my body twitched from the effort of holding back.

He pulled up short at the sight of me standing over Wong's prone form. 'Holy shit,' he said.

I glanced around again. The street was deserted. A building opposite us was being renovated, and there was a dumpster in front of it.

'Give me a hand,' I said. 'Get him into that dumpster.'

'The dumpster? Why…'

'Goddamnit, just do it!'

Without another word, Dox grabbed one of Wong's wrists and hauled him up off his back. He stooped and swept the body up into a fireman's carry, then strode with it over to the dumpster. I went with him.

In front of the dumpster, I reached into Wong's right jacket pocket. I felt something cold and smooth inside and pulled it out. Sure enough, it was a Balisong, with what looked like titanium handles.

'That what he was carrying?' Dox asked.

'Yeah,' I said, dropping the knife into my pocket. 'Let's get him in there.'

The top of the dumpster was about six feet up and mostly in shadow, thank God. The two of us managed to get Wong's shoulders up to the lip, then shoved him until his torso tipped inside. We lowered him by his ankles until he was hanging upside down with only the backs of his knees against the top, and then let go. He slid down and hit whatever debris was at the bottom with a low thud.

I looked around again. Still all quiet.

'Let's go,' I said. 'At this hour, I doubt anyone saw or heard anything. But I want to be sure. I'll come back in a little while.'

We started walking. 'Come back for what?' he asked.

'I can't leave the body here. It's too close to Midori's apartment, they'll know what happened.'

'Well, how are you going to move it?'

'I need to borrow your car.'

'I was afraid you were going to say that.'

'He's not bleeding much,' I said. 'I didn't stab him. I'll put something down under him, it'll be okay.'

'Yeah, but where are you going to…'

'I'll punch holes in him and sink him in the Hudson. But I need a way to get him there.'

We turned onto Sixth Avenue and were suddenly amid lights and people. The street felt normal. It was calming.

'What were you doing there, anyway?' I asked as we walked.

'The way you got off the phone, partner, I had a bad feeling. You just didn't seem like you were being your old careful self.'

'I didn't expect him there,' I said lamely. 'I thought he'd go back to the noodle shop, like he did last night.'

'He did. I watched him talk to his boss again. Looked like they had another fight. I guess the boss man told him to get his ass back out there in the cold and do what they were paying him to do, because out he went.'

'They were talking to each other the whole time, not looking at a video monitor, anything like that?'

'No, they were just talking to each other. Why, you think you got your picture taken?'

I shook my head. 'I wondered if maybe there was a hidden camera in the lobby. But even if there was, even if they had access to the feed, it doesn't sound like that's what brought Wong. Anyway, when he came upon me, I could tell he wasn't prepared.'

'There's an understatement. You know, when I saw where he was heading, I tried to call you, but I couldn't get through.'

'I turned the phone off.'

'Well, if anybody ever compiles a list of the high-water marks of human cleverness, I'm afraid that's unlikely to merit consideration.'

I didn't respond. I deserved the sarcasm, and worse. What the hell had I been thinking? I knew better. I'd always known better.

Maybe I'd been trying to behave the way Midori would want me to behave. More like a civilian. Maybe I was trying to show her, show us both, that I could do it.

The attempt had lasted for all of thirty seconds. And look what happened within that brief span.

'I'm sorry,' I said.

'That's okay. A situation like yours, it'd throw anyone off. Speaking of which, all I was going to say before was, Why go to all the trouble and risk of getting him in and out of the dumpster? I would have just left him on the ground next to it, covered him with his jacket, and pissed on him so he'd look and smell like a passed-out drunk.'

I stopped and looked at him. Why the hell hadn't I thought of that?

'You're right,' I said. 'I don't know what's wrong with me.'

'You've just got a lot on your mind, that's all.'

'And if we're using your car, who cares if he has urine all over him, anyway?'

Dox frowned. 'You know, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe the dumpster wasn't such a bad notion after all.'