Net Force - Tom Clancy [108]
Hey, baby. Come in. My husband just left.
Genaloni laughed and stepped into the house.
The Selkie moved back out of sight, the pistol held in both hands by her right ear, muzzle pointed at the ceiling.
She now wore surgical gloves, had not touched the pistol or magazines with her bare hands since shed scrubbed and cleaned them last night. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Adrenaline surged over her in warm rushes.
I cant get the wire thing off the champagne bottle, Ray. The little round part twisted loose.
Ill get it. In the kitchen?
Uh-huh. In the ice bucket. Oh, she was cool. Not a hint of nervousness in her voice.
The Selkie moved into the open closet behind her, smelled the fresh scent of new, unworn dresses that still had the tags on them. She pulled the door almost closed. Genaloni and Brigette walked past her hiding place, never glanced in her direction.
The Selkie stepped out behind them as they entered the kitchen.
Dont move, she said.
Genaloni knew what was going down from those two words, and he knew Brigettes part in it. Shit. You lousy fucking whore.
Im sorry, Ray, she made me do it! She has a gun! This was the most excited-sounding Brigette had been all day.
Hands high and wide, Genaloni.
He obeyed. Can I turn around?
Sure.
He did. When he saw her, he nodded. So. You must be the Selkie, right? Why this?
You know why. Your people tried to find me. You were told a long time ago thats not allowed.
He didnt try to lie. Shit. They were supposed to be good.
Not good enough.
All right. So you spotted them. Whats the deal? Money? A guarantee we wont try to look for you again?
She already had the pistol lined up on his right eye. At this range, she didnt need sights. She could point-shoot a marble off a tabletop all day long without scratching the finish, just using the gun and suppressor to index the target.
How much money are we talking about?
He grinned, thinking he had her number.
He was wrong.
The pistols hand-polished action was honed to a crisp three-pound pull for the single-action mode, no creep. The Selkie squeezed the trigger gently. The shot broke like an icicle under her finger. It sounded like an air rifle, a spat! nobody would hear outside this room.
The tiny bullet hit Ray Genaloni in the white of his right eye. He went boneless and fell, his brain shorted out by the lead bouncing around inside his skull.
Oh, Jesus! Brigette said. Oh, Jesus!
Because she liked Brigette a little, and because she wasnt a cruel woman, the Selkie said, Calm down. Youre all right. Im going now, take it easy-whos that at the door?
Brigette turned to look.
The Selkie fired twice-spat! spat!-and double-tapped Brigette in the right temple. The blonde fell. She kicked spasmodically as damaged brain connections triggered a last frantic try to run away. It was an instinctive reaction-the mind that had been Brigette wasnt home any longer. And she had checked out thinking she was going to survive this.
The Selkie moved fast. She bent, put two more shots into the back of Brigettes head, then two more in the back of Rays skull. The gun worked perfectly-she had polished the feed ramp with steel wool until it gleamed like a mirror, then coated it with TW-25B, a fluorocarbon-based military-spec lubricant. She never had a failure to feed, even with the hollowpoint Stingers. She pressed the heel catch on the pistol, pulled the empty magazine out and shoved another magazine home. She put the empty magazine into her pants pocket, racked the slide on the TPH, stripped and chambered a round. Then she changed magazines again, putting a fresh six-rounder into the gun. One up the spout, magazine full. Seven shots on tap.
She looked around. She hadnt left any prints anywhere. The empty cases from the.22 were clean-shed loaded them fresh from the box while wearing gloves. They could make something from