Toys - James Patterson [69]
As he stumbled past, he glimpsed her whirling in a reverse kick. Now what?
What was that her boot heel slammed into his ear, smashing it and spinning him face-first into a stone wall. The impact hurt something fierce, and the wound was as much to his pride as to his hearing.
Snarling like the beast that he was, McGill fought harder. But this clever trickster of a woman was always just out of reach, stunning him with shots that hit like thrown bricks, one after the other.
As his body slowly broke down, an unbelievable reality struck him: for the first time in his life, he was facing someone faster and more powerful than he was. A woman! A human! He couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t die. He couldn’t even lay a finger on her.
One of her whipping kicks totally collapsed his left kneecap. With a howl of pain, he went all dizzy and crashed to the pavement. He was half-blinded by his own blood, but he could see her, looming above. She even had something to say.
“I don’t feel bad about this,” she whispered through clenched teeth. Then she broke McGill’s neck. And then, Lucy really started to hurt the bastard.
Chapter 93
I WALKED VERY quickly, then began to run through the mean streets of the human slums, making damn sure everyone saw me. There was no way I could find the human leaders in this vast, complex warren—I could only hope that they would find me.
And that they would accept my help before 7-4 started and all was lost.
My oversensitive hearing caught a pop off in the distance—a small, sharp explosion. Weird; it sounded like an old-fashioned gunshot to me.
I calculated the shot to be 1.83 miles away—and the location clicked in my memory.
It was the warehouse where the girl Shanna lived with her ragged tribe—and where I’d helped deliver her baby, her very adorable baby, who I had promised to visit again.
Well, here I was.
I broke into a full-out sprint, racing through the crowds of startled slum dwellers, who cursed me instinctively but also shoved one another to get out of my way. They had to, since I was running at forty-plus miles an hour.
The narrow, murky alley that led to the warehouse was silent and seemed deserted at first look. There was no hint of where the gunshot might have come from.
But something was lying on the broken pavement near the warehouse entrance, approximately fifty yards ahead. Most of the body was hidden by a building’s corner—all I could see were the feet and toes, pointing up, still moving, quivering.
I dropped to a tight combat crouch and edged forward through the shadows—tensed for any noise or movement, but especially a sudden attack.
With every step I took, a little more of the suspicious body came into view—legs, waist, a face.
Face? I haven’t even gotten to the shoulders yet!
Face?
How is that—
Finally, I stared in shock at what I saw. The body’s head, torn from its neck, was actually sitting on top of the blood-soaked torso.
It held a most peculiar expression, like it was still trying to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong. But the real stunner came when I recognized who the big head belonged to.
Owen McGill.
Chapter 94
I TOOK OFF again, running at half speed now, looking for anybody who might have witnessed the killing of my former partner, my former friend. The murder of an Elite agent was a serious, almost unprecedented crime punishable by slow death.
When I rounded the corner of the alley onto the next street, I spotted two women. They were a few blocks ahead, trying to hurry away. But they were slow, very slow. One was old—and the other was carrying a wee baby. I knew them.
“Shanna, Corliss,” I called as I raced toward them. “I need to talk to you. It’s Hays Baker. Remember me?”
I thought they’d welcome me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Shanna turned with a glare full of fear and fury. “I thought you were a friend!” she screamed. “You brought the cops.”
I was stunned. Hadn’t I helped deliver her child? “What are you talking about? That’s crazy. Why would you say such a thing?”
“That agent