Blood Trust - Eric van Lustbader [55]
“But, no, I think not.” Dardan wagged his forefinger. “Because, you see, I’m protected, Mr. McClure. Even the death of a federal agent cannot harm me. The resulting investigation will be deflected … elsewhere.” He shrugged. “So you see, I can do with you whatever I wish. However”—he pushed off the edge of the desk—“it’s this little hellion—that’s the right word isn’t it?—that interests me.”
As he approached Alli, his hands came out of his pockets. He ran a finger down her cheek, tracing the jawline, then plunging the tip between her lips. She made a sound in the back of her throat and pulled away.
“Don’t.” Dardan held a switchblade, which now swung open, its long blade gleaming. The edge approached Alli’s throat. “I propose to entertain myself with her, Mr. McClure, while you watch. Sounds like fun, no?”
Jack touched Alli on the right hip and she swung away from Dardan. Jack launched himself forward. Instinctively, Dardan swung the knife, aiming for Jack’s face. Jack came in under the blade, struck Dardan a powerful blow that rocked him back against the desk.
At once, Jack was on him, pinioning the wrist of his knife hand, bringing his knee up into Dardan’s groin.
Alli whirled around to confront Thatë, but to her astonishment, he hadn’t pulled the .25.
Still, she was compelled to say, “Don’t.”
Thatë held his empty hands up. He grinned at her.
Behind her, Dardan had managed to free the knife, which slashed through Jack’s jacket and shirt, questing to slide between his ribs. Jack felt the blood running hot down his side as he struck the inside of Dardan’s left knee. The knife blade missed its mark, but Dardan slammed his fist into Jack’s solar plexus, doubling him over.
Dardan slammed him against the edge of the desk and Jack, dazed, slid to his knees. Dardan reached down and began to draw the blade across Jack’s throat. The pain cut through Jack’s wooziness and he jammed the heel of his right hand against Dardan’s wrist as he tilted his head back. The knife passed directly in front of his face. Jack, struggling for purchase, slipped and, in desperation, and grabbed the base of the blade. As the edge sliced into the meat of his palm, he shoved the point back and up. It passed just above Dardan’s cheek and punctured his eye. He screamed. Jack pushed the blade deeper, burying it in his head. Then he slumped down, his heart hammering in his throat, the adrenaline surging so strongly he thought he would retch.
Then Alli was prying the body off him, pulling him to his feet, drawing him away.
“Fuck me.” Thatë was staring at Dardan’s corpse.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Alli said without knowing who she was addressing.
A sudden hammering at the door brought the kid out of his trancelike state. “I know a way.” He came away from the door. “But you must promise to take me with you.”
His eyes were big around. Jack, regaining a semblance of composure, could tell that he was terrified. “What is it?” he said, as the hammering continued on the other side of the door.
They could hear shouts now—curses, imprecations.
“What’s happened?”
“There’s no time.” The hammering was louder. “Without me you’re trapped. Will you take me with you?”
A gunshot splintered through the door. The angry shouts grew louder, more frenzied. The pounding increased in intensity until the door shuddered.
“Yes,” Jack said. “All right.”
Thatë nodded and, putting his shoulder to the desk, shoved it all the way to the door. In the area of the floor that was under where it had been was a trapdoor. Bending, he pulled an iron ring and the trapdoor swung up.
“Quickly,” he said. “Quickly, or we’ll die here!”
There was an iron ladder leading down into absolute blackness. Alli went first, then Jack. Thatë came last, pausing to lock the trapdoor from underneath. There was no light at all.
“Keep going.” Thatë’s voice floated through the void.
They were enmeshed in damp, in sharp mineral smells, and in the stench of dying things.