Doctor Who_ Just War - Lance Parkin [83]
The train driver with the gun at his temple whimpered something. Roz relaxed, but not much. This man was not the target: he was ten years too old and a foot and a half too short. She was already heading up the stairs before he managed to shout a complaint. So the station hadn’t been fully evacuated. Had the target come this way? Damn, there was an easy way to find out which she’d managed to overlook. She headed back downstairs. The driver had struggled to his feet.
‘You,’ she demanded, ‘did anyone come up past you?’
The driver shook his head, clearly terrified.
‘OK. Where does that lead?’ She pointed upwards.
U-up to the ticket hall.’
‘Not up to the main station?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Get up there, and tell Sergeant Hood that I want a policeman on the exit.’
The driver nodded and scrambled upstairs. Forrester stepped back down. The door was still closed, but she double-checked that no one else had come through. Then she eased open the door. Footsteps, running up the corridor towards her. Someone coming around the corner. Forrester levelled her gun, taking careful aim. A shape came hurtling round.
‘Freeze!’ she yelled. It was the target, and he didn’t even hesitate. Neither did she. Forrester fired once, missed, the bullet shattering the tiling at the end of the corridor and ricocheted off. The target didn’t break his stride until he reached her, and he grabbed her right wrist and slammed it against the wall. And again. Roz’s grip on the revolver loosened and it clattered to the floor. The target bent down, moving for the gun, so Forrester kicked him very hard on the small of his back. He sprawled, but recovered quickly, rolling over onto his front. Forrester kicked the gun away from his reach, then crunched her heel on his hand, before stepping back. He didn’t make a sound, but effortlessly pulled himself upright. Roz hit him very hard in the stomach. And again. He didn’t flinch. Roz had been an Adjudicator for over twenty years, but until that moment had assumed that things like that only happened in the movies. Was this man human? She hesitated for a fraction of a second, unsure how to carry on.
The target took full advantage of the lull, and delivered a savage blow just below her ribs. Roz tried very hard not to flinch, but couldn’t stop herself from doubling up. She tried very hard not to cry out, but couldn’t stop herself from yelping. She tried very hard to breathe, and found she couldn’t manage that, either.
The gun. Roz dived for it, and succeeded in catching the target off-balance as he was about to reach it. Once again, the pistol flew from his grasp. Roz was upright. So was the target.
They faced each other. He was a foot taller than her, and probably seventy pounds heavier. He was combat-trained.
He was also over-confident. He underestimated her, even though she was still standing. Roz realized that at some point in the last five seconds she had started breathing again.
Reed and any other police or soldiers down here would have heard the shot. They’d be coming. Time was on her side.
Amazingly, he straightened up, relaxing.
‘Go on, you little black witch. Give it your best shot.’
‘Are you sure?’ Roz kept him talking while she worked on her strategy.
‘One free punch. Show me what you’re made of.’ He oozed confidence. Who could blame him? Her arm loose against her side, Roz squeezed the first and index fingers of her right hand together, folding the other two fingers back.
Her thumb held them flat against her palm.
‘Are you absolutely sure?’
‘You can’t harm me, little nigger girl.’
Roz thrust her hand up to his face, her outstretched fingers thrusting straight into the target’s right eye. She felt the jelly of his eyeball give way, she felt the retina detach beneath her fingertips, she felt droplets of blood splash against the back of her hand as his eyelid ripped. While he sank to the floor, screaming, clutching his face, she