Part 44 (1/2)
HARRIS KNEW HE had to forget about the money bag now. It was strung across the woman's shoulders, and there was no way he could get it without taking a bullet first. The only thing he needed to concentrate on was getting out of the fort and off the island.
He'd remained hyper-alert as they led him down the hall, searching for Romero's room. But then the man in the fatigues had revealed his ident.i.ty, causing Harris's mind to spin yet again.
Daeng. The man from Thailand. Quinn's preferred a.s.sistant.
Harris had thought he played that one so well, and that he'd effectively taken Daeng out of the picture. How in h.e.l.l was he here?
The next thing he knew, they were standing in Romero's room next to the old man's bed.
Focus! he scolded himself. Get out of here and get to the boat.
”I'm afraid we're the bearers of bad news,” the woman said to Romero, Harris's money bag still hanging over her shoulder. ”Your little torture fest is canceled.”
Romero looked both annoyed and confused. ”What are you talking about? Who are you?” He focused on Harris. ”Who are these people?”
Harris hesitated, then said, ”These, Senor Romero, are a.s.sociates of Quinn's.”
As the cleaner's name left his mouth, he could see that Daeng's and the woman's attention was fully on Romero.
His inner voice screamed, Now!
__________.
BOTH ORLANDO AND Daeng knew it wasn't a matter of if, but when Harris would try something.
The man must have thought it was a surprise move when he swung his elbow at Daeng. If he hadn't telegraphed it by tensing his shoulders, it might have worked. But by the time his elbow reached the point where Daeng's gun had been, Daeng had already taken a step back, out of the way.
Harris didn't give up, though. He whirled around, his fist flying out and catching the tip of Daeng's chin. Leading with his shoulder, he knocked Daeng to the side and started running for the door.
Orlando's shot went wide but Daeng's flew true, his bullet puncturing Harris's back before exiting the other side.
Momentum carried Harris forward another few feet before he toppled to the floor.
”Dios mio!” the nurse cried out.
Orlando gave him a quick look. ”Remember what I said about moving.”
The nurse nodded rapidly as he pulled his arms and legs toward his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible.
Daeng reached Harris first and shoved him over onto his back. The man's breathing was ragged, but his eyes were open.
”That's a nasty wound,” Orlando said as she moved in next to Daeng. ”Good thing we don't need him for anything else, because he's not going to be around much longer.”
”Still too long, I think,” Daeng said.
”True.”
”May I?”
”Absolutely.”
Daeng stepped closer so that he was looking directly down at Harris. ”Look at me.”
Harris's gaze jumped around.
”Here,” Daeng said, pointing to his own face. ”Look at me!”
The man did so.
”You killed my friends and have been torturing another. That's why you are on the floor now. That's why you can barely breathe. And that's why I am the last thing you will ever see.”
Daeng's gun, already aimed at the man's head, fired.
The nurse let out a yelp, but quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
”You all right?” Orlando asked Daeng.
He nodded and headed back to the hospital bed without saying a word. Orlando followed.
Romero had barely moved, his face even paler than before.
”There are consequences for every action, Mr. Romero,” Orlando said once she was standing beside him again. ”You understand this because you were trying to pay back the men who attempted to kill you. I can sympathize to a point, but the problem is, those you went after are our people. No one goes after our people without consequences.”
”If you are going to kill me, fine. Kill me.” He tried to pump his chest out as if he were making it a target.
”Whether we kill you or not isn't up to us.”
”Who, then?”
”The man you've been calling Quinn.”
__________.
QUINN AND NATE raced down the stairs, back into the cellblock. Quinn was glad to see all the cell doors open, the rooms empty.
”Ja.n.u.s is probably trying to get out of the fort,” Nate said. ”Which means he'll probably head down to the wall exit.”
”The others are there. They won't let him through.”
Nate threw open the door at the end of the block, and started to step into the intersecting hallway. ”Yeah. We can trap him between-”
A loud crack echoed down the other corridor and through the doorway.
Nate yelled out in pain as he thrust himself back into the cellblock, hugging his left arm to his chest.
At first Quinn thought it had been a gunshot, but then he saw the wound on Nate's forearm-a long red mark, not unlike those on Nate's back.
A whip.
”He's not downstairs,” Nate said through clenched teeth.