Satori - Don Winslow [74]
Store and—
— release.
The energy exploded from Nicholai’s feet and through his legs as he surged upward with all the ki he had stored in his body. The chair shattered from its bolts. Kang sprawled back, then got to his feet. Nicholai spun twice to develop momentum and then whirled into him and struck him with the legs of the chair, sending Kang spinning toward the wall. Then Nicholai threw himself into Kang, smashed him into the wall, and heard the air come out of Kang’s lungs.
Nicholai backed off and did it again, then again, then pinned the shocked and rattled Kang against the wall and pressed all his weight against the smaller man, trapping his hands.
Kang still clutched the wire, and Nicholai counted on his next move.
Desperate, Kang pressed the point of the wire to Nicholai’s throat.
Nicholai let it come, felt it bite into his throat, felt the blood start to come and saw Kang smile in triumph.
Then he craned his neck down, grabbed the wire with his teeth, jerked his neck back, and yanked the wire from Kang’s grasp.
Kang’s eyes went wide with surprise.
Nicholai stretched his neck as far back as it would go, then jammed it forward.
The wire went into Kang’s eye. He screamed in agony, wriggled against Nicholai, trying to escape.
Nicholai held the wire just there for a moment … then said, “For Chen.”
He pushed and sent the point through Kang’s eye and into his brain.
Kang stiffened.
Groaned.
And died.
Nicholai let his body crumple to the floor. Then he lowered himself down and started on the buckles of the leather strap with his teeth. It took five long minutes to free one wrist, then he unbuckled his other hand. He took a few deep breaths, gathered his energy, got up, and then took the tape out of the machine and put it in his pocket.
Looking at his watch, he saw that there was still time to go kill Voroshenin.
77
THE THREE AGENTS were tormenting Chen in the outer room.
One looked up in surprise as Nicholai came through the door, the more so as Nicholai killed him with a kick to the head. The second went to pull his gun but was dispatched with an elbow to the throat. The third tried to escape, but Nicholai grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his head into the door, crushing his skull against the heavy wood.
All of this took no more than five seconds, and then Nicholai knelt over Chen, who lay quivering on the cold concrete floor.
“Did you kill him?” Chen asked, his voice rattling.
“Painfully,” Nicholai answered. He placed his index and middle fingers on Chen’s neck, along the carotid artery. “Xiao Chen, think of bowls overflowing with pure white pearl rice, and dishes of pork in hot brown sauce. Do you have those things in mind?”
Chen nodded.
“Good,” Nicholai said. He pressed until he felt Chen’s life slip away.
Nicholai found the corpse of the largest agent, took off his coat, slipped it on, and then put on the dead man’s hat. He walked out of the “cave,” through the beautiful garden, and outside, where he saw the glow of a cigarette inside the car. The engine was running, the heater on.
Nicholai walked over and rapped on the window. “Open up.”
The driver rolled down the window. “What do you want? It’s fucking cold, brother.”
“Let me in,” Nicholai said in Chinese. “The bastard wants us to go for some hot noodles and pork.”
The locks unclicked and Nicholai slid in the back.
He pressed the agent’s pistol into the guard’s neck. “Zhengyici Opera House. And I know the route, brother, so don’t fuck me around.”
“Kang will kill me.”
“Actually, he won’t.”
The driver put the car in gear and pulled out.
The drive took twenty minutes.
Nicholai used the time to try to restore his energy. He was exhausted — the exertion it had required to break the chair from the floor had drained his ki, and now he was uncertain if he had sufficient energy left to perform the perfect strike required to silently kill Voroshenin, much less make his escape.
He also realized that