Page 35 of Assassin Anonymous

“Don’t worry,” the Neck says. “Before this is through, I’m going to get my licks in. You deserve that much.”

“Probably in general, but sure, why specifically?”

“Because I woke up with my face in a squat toilet.”

Ah. They were Ravi’s goons at the food market. They went down so quick I barely registered what they looked like. Telling them that would probably not endear me to them.

“Yeah, man, I can see how that wouldn’t be pleasant,” I say. “It wasn’t personal. Honestly, I’m sorry about that.”

Astrid is twelve feet from me and out of the line of fire of the man with the gun. The man on the right hasn’t drawn yet. The two of them are nineteen feet from me. Not great for them.

I slump my shoulders forward, keeping my hand over my eye. “I don’t even care,” I tell them. “I’m just so tired. Tired of running. Tired of living like this. Tired of always being afraid. Like your life could end at any moment, right? People think being the Pale Horse is all fun and games, but it’s hard. Living up to that expectation.”

The Neck laughs. “You big baby.”

“Hey, Astrid?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s P. Kitty?”

“Under the bed.”

“Ah. Smart. Hey, you guys don’t know all that much about pirates, do you?”

Before they can answer I snap out my hand and hit the switch on the wall next to me. With the curtains drawn and no other illumination in the room, we’re plunged into darkness. But taking a few minutes to close my right eye gave it time to adjust. Not fully, but more than anyone else in the room.

I close my left eye and open the right, and I can make out the faint outlines of the men across the room. All they’re seeing is black. Astrid dives to the floor. I grab the toiletry kit and wing it at the Neck, since his gun is already out. It strikes him in the face. I make a running leap, vaulting myself off the first bed and crashing into him with my knees out, knocking him hard against the wall. Ponytail is searching the room for me but still can’t see. As soon as I land and brace myself, I swing my foot into the side of his knee.

I turn to the Neck, who’s slightly hunched over, and slam my knee into his head a few times, smashing it into the wall. He drops the gun. The drywall cracks and breaks. Then I throw another side kick at Ponytail’s shoulder, knocking him down, preventing him from getting his bearings and reaching his gun. I have to be careful not to knock either of them through the window—we’re eight floors up and that’s a death sentence.

The Neck slumps to the floor. I turn and hammer my fist into Ponytail’s stomach. It bounces off the plated ballistics vest under his shirt. Feels like punching an overfull heavy bag. It gives him a chance to throw himself forward and smother me with his body in the tight space. He gets me in a headlock, so I twist until I’ve got an opening and drive my elbow up and into his jaw.

He staggers back, about to fall against the window, but I manage to grab him by the collar and pull him forward. Then I snap a kick into his knee, and as he’s going down, I put my knee in the side of his head.

Hands wrap around my throat. The Neck breathes into my ear. “Gonna enjoy this.”

Before I can consider which way to break the hold, he cries out and falls backward onto the bed. He’s reaching for the back of his knee, screaming, as Astrid brings her foot up high, like she’s executing a ballet move, and brings it down hard on his forehead. She grunts with a surprising level of savagery as she does it. The Neck goes limp, and Ponytail isn’t ready for round two, either.

“Didn’t see that coming,” I tell Astrid. “Can you hit the lights?”

After a few seconds of scrambling and grunting, the room illuminates and the blast is harsh enough to make me squint. I blink it away and then check the two men to make sure they’re still alive; they’re both groaning in sloppy piles. The Neck has a bunch of heavy-duty zip ties on his belt, so I use them to bind their hands and ankles before patting them down and relieving them of their belongings. I fieldstrip the guns and bend the recoil springs so they won’t go back together right. Phones get stomped on, and cash goes in my pocket.

“Mark, what the hell is going on?” Astrid asks.

I hit the floor and find P. Kitty cowering in the corner under the bed. I really have to stretch to grab his leg and pull him toward me, and once I’ve got him close enough, I scruff him, which gets him to go limp. Then I cram him in the cat carrier.

“Sorry, bud,” I tell him. “No time to be polite. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Mark, I—” Astrid starts.

“Grab your stuff, we’re going.”

As I’m giving the room a quick scan to make sure there’s nothing else I need, static crackles from one of the slumped figures. A male voice says, “Echo, check in. Do you have eyes on the target?”

I dig around in Ponytail’s vest and find the radio. “Not yet,” I say.

“We’ve cleared the Marina Bay. Sending you backup. Report in ASAP if he arrives.”

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