Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [84]
The table where I’d been sitting with Vivian was empty, so I went over and pushed the button for the elevator and rode up to the sixth floor. The Do Not Disturb sign was no longer hanging from the doorknob on Nick’s room, so I continued down the hallway, expecting to find them in the room I’d shared with Vivian. I didn’t bother to knock and just slid the key into the lock. The green light flickered, and I went in, past the closed door of the bathroom, behind which I could hear the shower running. I could see Vivian’s feet hanging over the edge of the bed. My first thought was that she’d fallen asleep again, but as I bent down to give her a shake, I spotted a thin trickle of blood at the edge of her mouth.
From behind me I heard the roar of the shower grow louder. I half turned, expecting to see Nick. I didn’t even think to reach for the gun under my shirt. But it wasn’t Nick. It was Williams. He smiled happily as he pointed the revolver at my chest. There was nothing I could do except stand there and listen to myself breathe.
“Throw your gun down on the bed. Nicky told me you had one, so don’t say otherwise.”
I tossed the gun on the bed, and Williams picked it up.
“You’re a good swimmer, Jack,” Williams said, still smiling. “Better than I thought. Now, just stand there and don’t move.”
I glanced down at Vivian. “What did you do to her?” I asked.
“Injected her with a sedative,” Williams said. “Of course, I had to slap the little whore first. That’s something you should have done more often. But forget that. I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
“You mean to the Colonel.”
“Same difference.”
“Where’s Nick?” I asked.
“Give it to me.”
I fished the pod out of my shirt pocket and tossed it to him, but I threw it a bit wide so that he had to reach across his body with his left hand to catch it. As he reached, I lunged at him. I got hold of his wrist with one hand and his thick, muscular neck with the other. My weight carried us backward, and he slammed into the wall, causing the mirror hanging over the dresser to fall and crash onto the counter. For a moment I held him there. Then, slowly, inexorably, he began to push me back. I let go of his neck and hit him with the heel of my palm under the nose with enough force to send blood shooting out all over me.
The back of his skull bounced off the wall, and he used the momentum of the recoil to head-butt me. The pain caused me to loosen my grip on his wrist. He broke free and in the same motion hit me across the temple with the barrel of the gun. It didn’t hurt much, but I instinctively tried to duck, and as I did so, Williams crouched, straightened, and drove his massive fist into my solar plexus.
Every nerve in my body fired at once as I fell to my knees, clutching my guts. Still, I had enough presence of mind to reach for my own gun, but my hand was like a blind man without a cane. Williams hit me again under the chin, and I fell backward onto the carpet. I tried to get up, but before I could even get an elbow posted on the floor, he grasped me by the throat with one hand and squeezed just enough to shut off my breathing. I instinctively grabbed both of his wrists but stopped when he put the business end of the gun against my forehead.
Then I heard the bathroom door open and click closed. Nick stepped into the room and frowned at the scene. He looked over at where Vivian still lay sprawled on the bed and frowned even harder.
Williams, still with his hand around my throat, half lifted me to my feet. A twisting blue vein in his neck pulsed like a swollen river filled with blood. I had no idea what kind of ’roids he was on,