Nobody’s Hero (Ben Koenig #2)

Chapter 88

Three things happened simultaneously.

Carlyle lunged for Margaret, Koenig grabbed Carlyle, and Draper knocked Margaret on her ass with a right hook to the jaw that would have felled a stevedore.

‘We need her alive, Bess,’ Koenig said.

‘I trusted her with my life!’ Carlyle shrieked, struggling to get out of his bear hug, clawing at the air. She looked like a boxer who thought her corner had stopped the fight too early. ‘I told her everything! EVERYTHING!’

‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have, dear,’ Margaret said before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she lost consciousness.

‘Oh, this is fucking perfect,’ Draper said. She knelt and began wrapping Margaret’s wrists with duct tape. They were going through so much they should have bought stock in the company. Draper tore the tape with her teeth, then said, ‘She’s been reporting to them in real time. No wonder they always knew where we were.’

‘We can discuss our catastrophic security failure later,’ Koenig said. ‘Right now, we need to get Nash ready. We’re getting out of here, and she’s coming with us. They’re both coming with us.’

‘ How are they coming with us?’ Draper asked, not looking up. ‘There are seven armed assholes outside.’

She had a point. Seven was too many now they had prisoners to manage. Koenig needed to reduce the odds. But how? Their SIGs weren’t enough. They needed something heavier. There was nothing in the apartment, though. Hobbs had intentionally kept it free of weapons. No guns, no grenades, not even an ornamental sword on the wall. The apartment was virtually empty. Just pots and pans and some gourmet cat food. Some Classic Coke, some takeout tempura, and three bags of non-clump kitty litter. A James Bond collection. Perhaps he could throw books at them.

Koenig closed his eyes and visualised the stairway Tas’s men would have to navigate. The switchback stairs were as steep and as narrow as the spiral staircases in medieval castles. Most staircases were in cities where space was at a premium. New York especially so. It had polished teak banisters and a black-and-white-tiled floor. Ten steps per flight, twenty steps per floor.

There was the elevator too, but Koenig wasn’t worried about that. Any hired goon who took an elevator to work deserved a Darwin Award. But to be safe, he’d call it to the top floor when they left the loft apartment. Give them something to think about. Maybe they’d keep someone at the bottom, just in case. Might work, probably wouldn’t.

Hobbs had been right earlier; Koenig needed the firefight to take place on the stairs. It was the only chance they had. Even with superior firepower, you were vulnerable when assaulting a stairway. Incoming fire could come from myriad angles. Far more than horizontal areas like hallways and rooms. The assaulters were exposed from the landing above, from the triangular gap between the split-level stairs, and from anything the people defending the stairs threw down. Back in his SOG days, he’d assaulted a three-storey Colonial in New Hampshire, and the perp had thrown a live pig at them. He hadn’t asked why the perp had one on the top floor with him. He doubted it was anything nice. The terrified animal had torn down the stairs like the boulder in Raiders of the Lost Ark . Everything’s a weapon when you’re desperate.

‘I’ve lost my cell phone signal, Koenig,’ Draper called out.

‘You don’t have a spare pig, do you?’ he replied.

‘Excuse me?’

But Koenig didn’t answer. He was staring at the boxes of takeout tempura Hobbs had brought in with him. Koenig loved Japanese food, and tempura, when done right, was a particular favourite. The batter, which used sparkling water rather than still, was delicate, light and crispy. But it didn’t travel well. It was better eaten fresh.

And after he’d asked after his cat, the first thing Hobbs had said to his daughter was that he hoped she’d put the fryer on. Not the oven, the fryer . Which meant he’d bought cook-athome tempura. Probably a tub of premade batter and a bunch of vegetables like carrot batons, sliced eggplant and shiitake mushrooms. Maybe some seafood. Shrimp worked well. So did whitefish and squid.

Which gave him an idea.

He ran to the kitchen area and opened the floor-level cupboards. He hadn’t really checked them before. Food was always stored in eye-level cupboards. Floor-level cupboards were for detergent and dishwasher tablets and other cleaning products. Some of the bigger pots and pans. Seldom-used kitchen equipment. He found everything he needed and set it all on the kitchen worktop. He then got the six-pack of Classic Coke from the fridge.

‘Anyone thirsty?’ he said.