The Assassin's Prayer (10 page)

“Damn
straight it is.”

They
left the corpses lying in the filth of the apartment, food for the cockroaches,
and rejoined Andy out in the hall. Kain could taste blood and cordite in his
mouth. Made him wish for a shot of whisky to wash it away. “Any problems?” he
asked Andy.

“No,”
Andy replied. “Well, nothing to be worried about anyway.”

“That’s
for me to judge,” Kain said. “What happened?”

“The
neighbor in 4C,” Andy answered. “I heard a dog growl once, then this hot little
honey sticks her head out and asks if there was something wrong, because she
thought she heard some strange noises.”

“She
say what kind of noises?”

“Yeah,
she said it sounded like someone coughing.”

Shit!
Kain thought.
She heard the shots.
It was impossible to completely silence a gun. Even through a suppressor, a
shot made a significant coughing noise. But few people, hearing that cough,
would know what it actually was. Kain looked at Andy. “What’d you say?”

“Told
her we were visiting a sick friend who has lung cancer, which would explain the
coughing she heard.”

“That’s
pretty lame. She buy it?”

“She
seemed to. She even apologized for bothering me.” Andy looked at Pierre and
winked. “Trust me, she was definitely not a bother. Prime, grade-A woman, I’m
telling you.”

Pierre
looked amused. “Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and see if she wants to go out on
a date.”

Kain
gave him a hard look. “Pull your brain out of your dick and let’s get out of
here before I give you a forty-five caliber castration just for the fun of it.”

Pierre
grinned wickedly. “You’ll need a bigger gun.”

Jean-Luc
returned with the street gang in tow. Under his supervision, they filed into
the apartment like a string of worker ants and emerged carrying crates of
stolen firepower which they lugged down the stairs and into the back of the
van.

Kain’s
nerves were scraped raw by the time they were back on the highway. He leaned his
head back against the rest and thought about the three mercs they had left
behind in the apartment, dead as dead can be. In so many ways, they were just
like him, men who lived by the gun, and their lives had ended in the blink of
an eye. It forced him to consider his own mortality. How long before it was his
turn to dance with the Reaper? How many days or weeks or years did he have
left? And did he want to spend them all in the killing game?

The
thoughts were sobering and Kain tried to push them from his mind. Andy flipped
the radio dial to a classic rock station and “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”
blasted from the speakers. After having his ears violated by the street punks’
gangsta rap, AC/DC was a welcome relief. The van rattled with rock and roll
thunder as they headed back to the Giadello estate.

CHAPTER 10

Kain
and his team got back to the Giadello estate a little after midnight. Pierre,
Jean-Luc, and Andy disappeared in different directions in search of late-night
snacks, alcohol, sleep, nocturnal companionship, or all of the above. Kain and
Silas reported to Frank’s office.

Silas
quickly relayed the events of the evening. Frank listened, hands folded in
front of him, face expressionless, until Silas finished his report. He then stood
up, walked out from behind the desk, and without warning slapped Silas across
the face. The vicious crack of flesh striking flesh filled the room. It was a
savage blow, a real head-knocker, but Silas didn’t even flinch. He took the
insult without wincing, his eyes staring straight ahead, a red welt blossoming
on his cheek.

“Are
you a fool?” Frank demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he strolled over to
the bar and mixed himself a screwdriver. For a few moments, the only sounds in
the room were the clink of ice cubes and the gurgle of vodka and orange juice
being added to the glass. In the tense silence, Kain for some reason found
himself thinking of Karen. He needed to visit her grave soon, add some fresh
flowers. Maybe he would do that later, after he got some sleep.

Frank
took his drink over to his desk and sat down. His gaze flicked from Kain to Silas
like a tiger selecting his prey before finally coming to rest on Silas. “You
never answered me, Silas. Are you a fool?”

The
palm-print on Silas’ cheek glowed a fiery red. “No, I’m not a fool,” he said.
“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Because
you left a witness alive. Only a fool would do something that stupid.”

Kain
figured it was time to cut into the conversation. “I made that decision,” he
said. It felt strange, coming to Silas’ defense, considering that he wouldn’t
have pissed on Silas if the man was burning alive, but Frank was tearing into
him because of decisions Kain had made. He would gladly stand by and watch
Silas take a beating, but not on his behalf. “I called the shots,” Kain said.
“The witnesses were a bunch of gutter rats. You don’t have to like it, but I am
not going to gun down a bunch of kids whose only crime is being born in a bad
part of town.”

“And
what about the woman?”

“She
didn’t see anything. No reason to kill her.”

Frank’s
eyes pierced Kain like fishhooks, digging out the truth. “I know what’s really
going on here. This is about you and your code. You won’t kill a woman.”

“I
won’t kill an innocent,” Kain said. “Man
or
woman.”

“But
you’ve got a soft spot for women,” Frank countered. “You have ever since your
wife checked herself out of the game.”

You
bastard.
Hearing Karen’s suicide so
casually and callously referenced made Kain’s blood boil. He wanted to launch himself
across the desk and tear out Frank’s trachea. But it was a reactionary, lizard-brain
impulse and he controlled it with ease.

Frank
shook his head. “You’re a slave to the past, Kain. Your wife scribbles some
mumbo-jumbo on a piece of paper one night and you act like it’s the greatest
discovery since the Dead Sea scrolls. Unbelievable.”

Kain
said nothing. He wasn’t going to debate this issue. What Frank mockingly called
mumbo-jumbo, Kain called sacred. Frank could beg, plead, cajole, bribe,
threaten, or whatever, but Kain would not willingly shed innocent blood. To him,
there was no greater evil.

With
a final shake of his head, Frank said, “All right, Kain, I won’t ask you to violate
your precious code, but this woman is a loose end that I need tied up for my
own peace of mind.” He looked at Silas. “Take Pierre, go back to the apartment,
and eliminate her.”

Kain’s
scarred conscience crawled. Could he actually sit back and do nothing while an
innocent woman fell under the gun? Yes, he decided, he could. Because he would
not be the one pulling the trigger. Semantics? Splitting hairs? Hell, yeah. But
it let him walk out of Frank’s office feeling that he had stayed true to the
code he lived by. Sure, the woman would die … but not by his bullet. He could
live with that. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself.

Outside,
the night air was muggier than it had any right to be this late in the season.
A faint breeze tried to ease the humidity but only managed to send a few dead
leaves scuttling across the driveway where they came to rest against the stone
wall encircling the gargoyle-guarded rose garden.

Kain
leaned against one of the porch columns and wished for a shot—or three or
four—of whisky. But even as he wished for it, he knew alcohol would do nothing
to ease the discomfort he felt when he thought about that innocent woman dying.
He saw Silas and Pierre roll down the driveway, taillights glowing in the dark,
off to complete their assignment. The woman would be dead before the morning
news. She might even be dead in time to
make
the morning news.

Weariness
seeped into Kain’s bones like lead weights. Maybe it really was time to put
this life of blood and death behind him. Just hang up his guns, go home, pour
himself a big old glass of Jack Daniels, draw a bath so hot it was just shy of
boiling, and try to soak away a lifetime of sins.

His
mental imagery did a smash-cut to Karen, her lifeless body lying in a tub full
of crimsoned water. Had she been an innocent? Not exactly. She had broken his
heart, destroyed his life, and betrayed him in the worst possible way. But she had
not deserved to die, not even by her own hand.

Kain
pushed the thoughts away. Overhead, the stars seemed to be staring down at him
with accusing eyes. He pushed away from the pillar, climbed into his Jeep, and
headed for home.

He
had just crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge when he realized he wasn’t really
heading home.

Not
yet, anyway.

CHAPTER 11

Larissa
Peterson was one of those early to bed, early to rise kind of people. Head on
the pillow by 9:00 p.m., awake by 5:00 a.m. Which explained why she was
finished washing her breakfast dishes by 5:30 a.m. Not that it took long to
wash dishes for one person and it had been a long time since she shared
breakfast with anyone. Of course, part of that was her own fault; after Todd’s
death, she had erected invisible walls around herself and hung up a sign that
said THIS HEART NOT OPEN FOR BUSINESS. But even with her prickly defenses in
place, there should have been men hitting on her, asking her out, if only in
attempts at one-night stands. Instead, they seemed to shy away from her. It was
her blindness, she knew. Men seemed to think it was some sort of communicable
disease like leprosy rather than a mere handicap.

She
didn’t waste her days pining for a man. Yes, she got lonely at times, but she
had Sirius and the German Shepherd was far more loyal than any man she had ever
known except Todd. Sirius took her wherever she wanted to go, would give his
life to defend her, and never made false promises just to get her into bed.
With a friend like that, who needed a man?

She
dried her hands on a threadbare towel and smiled to herself. Who was she trying
to kid? Despite everything Sirius gave her, there were other things the dog
could never offer. She would never hear the words “I love you” from Sirius’
lips (though he let her know in countless other ways). Sirius couldn’t wrap his
body around her in the dark and hold her close, whisper sweet nothings into her
ear. Nor could he make beautiful, passionate love to her.

Larissa
felt no shame at craving sex. Sometimes she considered going to the nearest bar
and picking someone up. No names, no numbers, no commitments … just raw lust, somebody
to touch her, caress her skin, kiss every inch of her naked body. But while she
felt no shame in her desire, she knew she would never yield to the temptation.
There might be fleeting pleasure in a few hours of unemotional sexuality, but
what she really missed was lovemaking. To her, sex and love were inextricable.
She just couldn’t see spreading her legs for a stranger.

She
threw the towel into a drawer by the sink, then went into the living room,
winding her way through the few articles of furniture she owned without hitting
a single thing, the path etched into her brain through years of repetition.
When she first rented the apartment, she had constantly barked her shins, but
those days were long gone. Like a lot of other things in her life. Things like
her eyesight and husband, for instance.

She
heard the rustle of fur as Sirius moved out of her way. Whenever she worked in
the kitchen, he liked to lie in the doorway between that room and the living
room. It was his way of protecting her, of keeping himself between her and the
door, through which untold dangers could enter, and she loved him for his
thoughtfulness.

She
sat down on the sofa, purchased for a pittance from the local Salvation Army,
careful to avoid the butt-poking spring jutting through a tear in the fabric. Her
multiple attempts to cram the offending coil back down into the sofa’s innards
had thus far failed and she couldn’t afford to buy a new one, especially now
that she had spent most of her savings buying the Firestar .40. The insurance
money she had received after Todd’s death had been far less than she had expected
and the majority of it had been devoured by hospital bills as high-priced
surgeons tried in vain to restore her vision, taken from her by a madman named
Macklin.

No
longer able to afford the mortgage on the dream house she and Todd had bought
in Virginia, Larissa had migrated north to Albany and found this dirt-cheap
apartment in the slums. Yeah, it was in a bad part of town, but for some reason
her neighbors left her alone. Being blind, she couldn’t bother them, so they
didn’t bother her. Sure, she heard the occasional wolf-whistle or lewd remark
when she walked down the street, horny teenage punks playing it cool in front
of their friends, but no one ever molested her with Sirius by her side, and her
apartment was the only one in the building that had not been burglarized. Maybe
the hoodlums only left her alone out of pity, but whatever the reason, she had
somehow managed to eke out a semblance of peace and independence here.

Not
that she wanted to live here forever. Heck, no. But job opportunities for the
vision-impaired were quite scarce and those that were available didn’t pay
much. Larissa had made out better than the average handicapped person, landing
a job answering phones at a health club for eight bucks an hour plus mediocre
benefits. As long as she stayed where she was, she could survive on that. But
as for leaving town, seeking a better life? Eight bucks an hour just wasn’t
going to cut it.

She
found the TV remote and turned on the early morning news. Though she would
never again see the images on the screen, Larissa still “watched” television. It
made her feel normal, part of everyday society; as long as she could hear the
dialogue, her imagination could supply the pictures. It wasn’t the life she had
wished for, but it was the life she had learned to accept. Unconsciously, she
rubbed the thin white scars on her wrists.

Sirius
suddenly let out a growl, a low, rumbling sound that raised the hairs on the
back of Larissa’s neck. She fumbled with the remote, finally managing to mash
down the MUTE button. She listened, but didn’t hear anything, which surprised
her. Her hearing had grown more acute after the loss of her sight, one sense
compensating for the absence of another, a phenomenon she had heard of but
never really believed until experiencing it firsthand. But now she heard only
silence. “What is it, Sirius?” she asked, turning her head toward the German
Shepherd. “Did you hear something?”

When
Sirius didn’t respond, Larissa turned the TV back on. Sometimes the dog was a
bit
too
possessive, growling if so much as a roach scuttled across the
floor. Like last night, when she heard those coughing noises in 4D, the
adjacent apartment. Sirius had growled his fool head off until she had been
compelled to open the door and ask the man in the hall what was going on. She
had listened to his story of a friend with lung cancer and then withdrawn back
into her apartment, telling Sirius to hush. The guy had not been a very good
liar, but she really didn’t care. Whatever was going on next door was none of
her business. In this part of the city there were more devils than angels and
you learned how to live and let live if you wanted to survive. 

She
shifted on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable position while also
trying to avoid an unwelcome probe by the exposed spring. She tried to
concentrate on the news, but her mind didn’t want to focus on the latest round
of saber-rattling from North Korea or the downward plunge of the DOW or the
seemingly ceaseless upheaval in the Middle East. No, the only thing her mind
wanted to think about was Kain.

She
kept reliving their disastrous lunch date, a sorrowful blooper reel playing on
an endless loop in her head. God, she had been such a fool. She had spent the
last five years unable to forget him and then when she finally found him again
she promptly ripped open old wounds.
Way to go, stupid
, she chided
herself. Meeting him again had left her shaken. Up until that moment, she had not
been fully aware of just how deep her feelings for him ran. And to have him
walk away from her so easily cut her to the core.

Sirius
growled again, pulling Larissa back from the pain of the past. Then the growl
erupted into a full-blown snarl. Larissa heard a crash as someone kicked in her
door. Fear raced through her and she instantly thought of the Firestar. It was
in her bedroom, lying on the night stand. It might as well have been on the
moon.

The
unmistakable sound of suppressed gunshots reached her ears. Sirius yelped and
Larissa’s heart turned to ice. “Sirius!” she cried, leaping to her feet,
forgetting about the coffee table in front of her. The edge bit into her shins.
She stumbled and fell, scattering knickknacks everywhere as she slid to the
floor. The worn carpeting felt like sandpaper on her palms. She heard footsteps
coming towards her. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but a hard voice
cut her off.

“Scream
and you’re dead. Not easy dead, either. Hard dead. I think you know the
difference.”

Larissa
bit back the cry. “Who are you?” she asked, trying to keep the fear out of her
voice but failing miserably. “What do you want?”

“My
name is Pierre.” His voice was thick and heavy with a French accent. “I am here
to kill you.”

He
said it with disconcerting pleasantry. Larissa imagined a smile on his face, as
if he had said nothing more menacing than
Would you like to buy a vacuum
cleaner?
Terror twisted her guts into nauseous knots. There was no way out.
Pierre stood between her and the door. Blind and unarmed, she was completely at
his mercy. Right about now all she could do was pray, and something deep down inside
told her that would be a waste of time. Her mind raced, searching for something
to say, keep him talking, delay the inevitable. “What did you do to my dog?”
she asked.

“Check
for yourself. He’s about four feet to your right.”

Larissa
followed his directions, crawling across the floor until her hands felt
familiar fur. “Sirius?” she whispered, clinging to a faint shred of hope. But
the dog didn’t stir. She tried again. “Sirius?” Then her hands slid into the
bloody ruin of the dog’s breast and her hope turned to ashes. Sirius, her
faithful companion, would never stir again. Tears stung her blinded eyes as the
full impact of her loss razored through her. Sirius would never again guide her
steps or lick her face. He had died defending her. Grief and loneliness and
fear ripped at her as she cradled the dog’s head in her lap. He still felt
warm, the chill of death not yet having settled. She scratched him behind his
furry, oversized ears the way he liked, half-expecting his right hind leg to go
spastic in response, thumping the floor with pleasure the way it always did. But
of course, that would never happen again. “No,” she moaned, rocking back and
forth. “No, please, Sirius, don’t leave me.”

Rough
fingers closed around her upper arm like a steel band. Sirius’ head fell from
her lap and hit the floor with a hollow
thunk
as Pierre dragged her to
her feet. “Save the tears,” he growled as he hauled her across the room. “They
won’t work.”

Numb
with grief and stricken with terror, Larissa didn’t even struggle, unaware of
where Pierre was dragging her until he flung her onto the bed. She rolled onto
her back, bedsprings creaking harshly, and horror pierced through her grief,
bubbling up within her like black, ugly oil. Pierre not only intended to kill
her, he intended to have some fun first. The thought was unbearable.
Please
God don’t let this happen to me!
She began to kick and claw.

Something
hard and cold thudded against the bridge of her nose. “Hold still,” Pierre
snapped.

Larissa
froze, realizing he had the gun to her head. “Please don’t do this to me,” she
pleaded.

“Shut
up,” Pierre growled. “I didn’t come here to listen to you yap. Next time you
open your mouth, I’m going to fill it with my dick.”

Go
ahead. I’ll bite it off and spit it in your face.

Under
the threat of the gun, Larissa didn’t struggle as Pierre bound her wrists and
ankles to the bed posts with 550 paracord that bit deep into her flesh. It hurt
so much she thought the bone itself must be bruising.

Pierre
tightened the final knot, then Larissa heard the whisper of steel on leather as
he drew a knife from a sheath. Terror and shame burned through her as he cut
away her clothes. She choked back a sob every time the blade grazed her skin,
an icy kiss laced with wicked portent. She could hear Pierre chuckling softly,
the sound of pure evil. She didn’t know how she was going to be able to stand
what was about to happen to her.

He
touched her then, places he had no right to touch, places that had not been
touched since Todd died. Her skin crawled and she could no longer stifle her
sobs. She prayed for numbness, for a way to detach herself from reality until
this hell was over, but it was useless. She felt his every touch, the slimy
lick of his tongue, the rough groping of her body, the sour smell of his
breath, the cheap scent of his cologne. She laid still and suffered, tears
streaming down her cheeks.

But
when she felt his weight crush down on her, felt the tip of his rigid member
start to force its way inside her, she could not hold back the horrific cry
that escaped her lips. “
No, please!”

******

Kain
arrived at the Arbor Apartments wondering if he was too late. The early morning
traffic around Albany had been a snarled mess of congestion that had shaved
precious minutes from the clock.

The
sun was just coming up as he walked down the rough, weed-sprouting sidewalks.
The rays caromed off cracked concrete and crumbling bricks, bleaching the color
from the urban scenery as Kain went into the apartment building.

Silas
was inside the lobby, leaning against the wall at the foot of the stairs. Pierre
was nowhere in sight, presumably already upstairs taking care of business. “What
are you doing here?” Silas demanded.