The Trail to Buddha's Mirror - Don Winslow [66]
“There could be,” Neal said, wondering where Ben Chin was, “but I don’t think the problem will happen as long as I’m here.”
“I’ll get someone right there.”
“How will I know him?”
“Ask him the subject of your would-be master’s thesis. He’ll know.”
“You guys think of everything.”
“We try.”
“I’m only turning them over to you personally. Deal?”
“Deal.” See ya.
So that’s that, Neal thought. An hour or so and it’s over. And I’ll never see her again.
That’s when he heard the awful screech of the elevator, heard the doors slamming shut on the third floor, and stopped wondering where Ben Chin was.
Neal met him in the hallway. “What are you doing here?”
Ben Chin raised his hands into a fighting position. “The game’s over, Neal. I’m here to get them.”
“You’ve been trumped.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that they represent some valuable assets to the CIA, who are not going to be happy with you if you waste them. So let’s not fuck around, okay?”
Chin dropped his hands and smiled. Then his right hand came up and it had an automatic pistol in it. He pointed the silenced muzzle at Neal’s face.
“I don’t give a shit about the CIA. I don’t work for the CIA. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t care very much one way or the other. So you walk away and we both forget we ever met. Or I do you right here. Either way, they die. So let’s not fuck around, okay?”
Either way they die. Simms’s second choice. And Pendleton and Lan didn’t care about you getting killed, Neal. They figured it was better you than them. Well, better them than me.
“Okay.”
“That’s what I thought. Door locked?”
“Not anymore.”
“You get out of here, Neal. You’re too far up Nathan Road. Way too far.”
Neal walked past him down the hallway. Chin turned the doorknob with his left hand and slowly opened the door. Pendleton was sitting on the bed. Lan was standing by the window. Chin dropped into the shooter’s position—knees bent, both hands on the pistol’s grip—and brought the barrel down until it was pointed at Li Lan’s heart. She looked at his eyes.
Neal barrel-rolled him from behind, taking him in the back of the knees and sending him flying onto his ass. Neal jumped on top of him and grabbed his wrist.
Chin was fast. He used his free hand to punch Neal in the side of the head and then he threw him off. He kicked Neal in the ribs, and the force of the blow crashed Neal into the hallway wall. This took about a second and a half, and neither Li nor Pendleton moved an inch. Neal slumped against the wall. His head was spinning and he couldn’t catch his breath to move. The pain in his ribs doubled him over.
“Asshole,” Chin said. He raised the gun to finish him off.
Li Lan flew, or at least it seemed that way to Neal. One second she was standing against the wall and the next instant she was flying through the air, her legs curled beneath her. She flew until she was even with
Chin’s head, and then her right leg shot out like a snake striking. The foot hit him on the underside of his jaw and his head snapped backward. He was unconscious even before the back of his head hit the wall and he slid to the floor.
He woke up hearing Li Lan urging him, “Come, come. We must go.”
He was lying on the bed in their room. He felt like throwing up, and his rib cage felt as if somebody had stuck burning matches into it. She would have looked like an angel to him if he hadn’t just seen her kick a man’s head about off. Maybe she looked like an angel anyway.
“Come on. We must go,” she said.
He shook his head. That was a mistake—Quasimodo crawled in and started ringing the bells. “We have to stay put. Simms will be here soon.”
Pendleton pointed to Chin. “He won’t be out forever.”
“He might be dead,” Neal said.
“Yes, he may be,” said Li Lan. “We must go now.”
Pendleton jerked him to his feet. The corridor wasn’t spinning. It was lurching like a broken carny ride with a drunken operator at the controls.
“Where are we going?” Neal asked.
“I know a place to hide until we can call your Mr. Simms,” Li Lan said. “Now come, please.”
“We should take the stairs.