Toys - James Patterson [68]
McGill had watched Hays leave headquarters, just in case he did anything criminal or suspicious. And he sure as hell did.
Instead of going home like he’d said he would, he sped off toward these very slums. He’d lied, and no doubt that meant he’d been lying all along. He had made a fool of McGill, even as he stood by silently, allowing McGill to take Jax Moore’s job as head of the Agency.
There was only one way to solve the problem, and this was it, a job only he could do: find Hays Baker, and kill him.
“You stupid people sheltered an escaped convict—that’s punishable by death, and I’m the delivery man,” McGill snapped at the cowering humans. “But I’m going to give you one last chance at survival. I happen to know he’s around here now. His name is Hays Baker. Heard of him? Well, where the hell is he? Anybody?”
McGill turned his most baleful glare on a young woman in rags, holding a baby tight to her breast. She seemed the weakest and most vulnerable of this pitiful lot.
“Come on, honey. Who’s more important—your wee child there, or some stranger who’s actually a spy?”
A gray-haired woman—the oldest, and one who didn’t seem the least bit afraid of him—stepped forward to face McGill.
“She’s not covering for anybody—none of us are,” the old bag said. “We didn’t know who he was when he was here—and we haven’t seen him since. I swear before God.”
McGill raised his pistol and leveled it at the old shrew’s beady eyes.
“Wrong answer, skunk,” he said.
“How’s this for the right answer?” a different voice said—someone behind him. “You’re the only skunk here.”
Chapter 92
AS MCGILL STARTED to spin around, a sharp sound—brak— rang out. Something smacked hard against his pistol, knocking it flying and making his hand sting furiously.
He stared at the woman now standing there with a gun in her hands.
A woman who was supposed to be dead. Hell, he had seen her burned to a crisp back at the Agency.
Except that she’d just shot the laser pistol out of his hand with one of the obsolete, bullet-shooting weapons that he’d sneered at an hour ago.
“You were blown to bits—incinerated with Jax Moore!” he yelled at her.
“Obviously not, you moron!” she yelled right back. “I’m right here—waiting for you. And obviously, these rusty old guns work pretty well,” Lucy said coolly. “If you know how to shoot. If you’ve practiced every day since you were seven. If you really hate your target and turn all that venom into focus.”
“So you weren’t blown up?”
“I think we covered that part already.”
McGill couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but he really couldn’t believe what happened next. The blond girl tossed her pistol aside.
“But let’s keep this fair,” she said, as if that explained it.
His shock and rage exploded in a wild laugh. “Fair? Is that what you think is going to happen now? Hell, I’m going to rip your head apart and watch the very small brain fall out!”
The blonde frowned thoughtfully and didn’t seem afraid of him. “OK, that’s a bet—my brain against yours.”
“Smart-ass bitch!” he yelled, lunging toward her. His massive fist lashed out in a punch aimed to pulverize her face into bloody shreds and bone splinters.
But Lucy danced aside with professional boxing speed and agility. Then she rammed her own black-gloved fist into the pit of his belly. The strike was so hard he felt his gut crunch against his spine. Was that possible? Could she have hit him that hard?
McGill immediately doubled over, eyes bulging, and sucked for air like a beached fish on the riverbanks. He’d never been hit like that! What the hell was going on? She was a woman, not even half his size! Plus, he’d seen her blown to nothing with his own eyes.
With great effort he wrenched his body upright and dove at her again, his huge hands outstretched to rip her apart. Again, she sidestepped him just