 |
 |
He waited on the edge of darkness as if he was on the threshold of space. Had he heard something or just imagined it? He was tired and yearning to get to bed, another long day to come. Part of him wanted to turn and walk off. Another wanted just a few more minutes to be sure. He listened intently. There it was again. A low, almost distant, squeal. Silence. Now a muffled sobbing.
Quietly and slowly, he took several paces into the shadows until he reached some railings he’d not seen from the street. Satisfied he couldn’t be seen, he removed the Yarygin from his leg pocket, regretting having made it safe in the car.
Turning his back to the darkness, hoping his body would help suppress any sound, he carefully racked a round into the chamber under control; a misfeed could prevent him from getting the first shot off but his drills would correct that, if he had time. It was a risk he preferred to take for the advantage of surprise. Facing back into the gloom, he slowly screwed the 'silencer' onto the weapon and took a deep breath before casually but carefully walking along the middle of the setts that formed the narrow roadway, adjusting his eyes to the dark, weapon held firmly to his side.
There it was again. Sobbing. Faint but unmistakable.
It came from an area to his left, ahead of him. He quickened his pace. Suddenly, his foot made contact with something, sending it scuttling briefly across the cobbles. He winced with annoyance. The sound hadn’t been loud, but it was a sound. Stood frozen for several seconds, he took another couple of steps and found his foot was now on the object. He crouched down. A woman’s high heeled shoe.
Following the line of spiked railings to his left, he was about halfway along the street when he heard a short deep moan followed by something the nature of which he couldn’t distinguish. Movement? A whisper? He didn’t know, but both came from behind and below. He stepped back.
A set of steps led down to an enclosed basement. Warily he descended them, the weapon ready at his hip, slightly extended in front of him, his left hand holding the guard rail. The lack of unevenness on the steps told him they were iron, not stone. There would be a space beneath them he’d need to take into consideration; another place for someone to hide.
Despite having obtained some night vision, the further he went the less he saw. The phrase ‘blacker than a very black thing’ flitted through his mind as he reached what felt like the floor of the basement. He probed in front with his right foot. Satisfied he was on solid ground, he fumbled around with his left hand for the small lighter with its little torch he knew he had somewhere and instinctively turned to follow the stair’s guard rail back on itself.
Sobbing erupted from the void ahead of him. At the same time, he was struck heavily by someone bursting out from the darkness beneath the stairs. The initial contact on his left side was almost simultaneous with the full blow of a body which took him off his feet and slammed him into the pitch-black recessed doorway to his right. As he lay slumped against the door, his head swimming from the impact of the doorframe, he could dimly discern a figure running up the steps. Without thinking, he raised the Yarygin and pulled the trigger. He’d no idea where the round had gone, it was completely instinctive. Had he thought about it, he knew he wouldn’t have done it. It complicated things. Now he had to finish it.
Nicks reached the top of the stairs with a high pitched buzzing in his ears, a sharp pain in his side and a sudden feeling of nausea. He steadied himself momentarily with his left hand on the railing; his legs didn’t feel right, he felt weak.
He knew he couldn’t pursue his attacker, silhouetted ahead of him against the fatigued light from an unseen streetlamp. He'd thought they’d be running much faster but dismissed it from his mind as he raised the weapon in a weaver stance and fired in quick succession. Klak!Klak!Klak!
The first round hit the figure centrally in the lower back tearing the muscles, deforming as it did so, shattering its way through the sacral plexus. The second hit the upper back, slightly to the left of the spine, passing through the muscle, narrowly missing the 7thand 8th thoracic vertebrae before ripping through the thoracic aorta and into the heart. The third round passed easily through the figure's jacket into clean flight and clipped the sign at the end of the alley, sailing wildly off into the darkness, well beyond the reach of the nearby street light. The figure stumbled forward and slapped itself unceremoniously onto the cobbled roadway.
Nicks walked forward, carefully stripping his left glove from his hand with his teeth, so his latex one remained in place. He shoved the outer into his pocket then stuffed his hand up inside his jacket so he could wipe the area where he’d been struck. He licked the back of his fingers. Blood.
Cautiously, he lightly kicked the prone form. No reaction. He knelt beside it. The buzzing in his ears had disappeared. A faint gurgling sound was all he heard.
Abruptly remembering why he was there, he stood up, checked both ends of the street for movement and returned to the stairway. Slowly descending the steps, he tried again to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He could hear muffled whimpering. Turning the corner on leaving the last step, he cautiously edged his way forward, as silently as he could.
After a few steps, he felt something underneath his foot and dropped to one knee. It was the lighter he’d lost when struck. Alert for any movement, side throbbing, weapon readied in front of him, he found the button at its base and pressed. Its weak white light was enough for him to see the figure of a woman lying on her right side, almost foetus like, her back to a wall, her jumper pulled up and over her head exposing her bra and the breasts that hung from it. Her dark trousers were pulled down to just below her knees, her white briefs just above them. He could see her arms were held behind her back and through whatever was stuffed in her mouth he could hear her frightened whimpers gather into deep sobbing.