Page 52 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
“I wish I could do more than keep asking you to have hope and not give up, because I don’t think I have the right to. I cannot imagine what you’ve survived, but Malori? You have survived it. I hope you can survive until we’re rescued.”
Malori tried to smile, but it came off more like a grimace. “I’ll do my best. But in case I can’t say it later, I’m glad I got to be your friend for a little while.”
“Me too.” Kensley wanted them to be friends for years to come, but that promise was beyond his control. All he could dowas remain vigilant and wait for a chance to escape, no matter what shape it came in.
He did not expect hope to come inside the dumbwaiter when their lunch plates arrived. Kensley went to fetch the tray, and he froze at the sight of a note on top of something wrapped in a piece of cloth. He read the note without exposing it to whatever cameras were in the apartment:Leave this here for now so no one sees it. You’ll know when to use it.
No signature, no other marks on the paper. He fondled the bundle while pretending to have trouble with the tray, and his heart leapt with hope. It felt like a small handgun.
King. Please, let this be King and Bishop, please!
Acting had never been his forte, but Kensley did his best to keep his expression neutral, while he carried the tray to the table. Malori joined him with no enthusiasm for the meal. He’d moved stiffly, slowly all morning, as if resigned to being carted off to his death at any moment. But he ate his sandwich at Kensley’s urging. Kensley forced his own food down into a stomach rolling with nerves and anticipation. If anything was going to happen, it would be within the hour or so they usually took to eat and return their dishes.
Time stretched out, its path barely marked by the stretch of a shadow from the barred kitchen window. Without a clock, he could only guess, but it felt like close to an hour. Grabbing onto desperation and inspiration, Kensley stood suddenly. Malori startled.
“Sorry, I just, ah.” Kensley pressed a hand over his gut. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be a little while, but I do want to finish my lunch. Don’t send it back yet.”
“Okay.”
The instant Kensley shut the bathroom door, he reconsidered his plan. He had no idea if there was a camera in the bathroom. Until now, it hadn’t occurred to him that they might not evenhave this small privacy. He had to risk it, though, and stall for as long as possible. Give whoever had sent that gun a chance to get in position.
He pressed his ear to the door and counted to sixty, ticking each minute off on his fingers. He counted to sixteen minutes and twenty-three seconds when he faintly heard the first buzzer. Kensley grabbed the doorknob, nerves sizzling, heart slamming into his ribs. This had to be it. His instincts screamed this was the moment.
When the second buzzer for their door rang, Kensley opened the bathroom door. The dumbwaiter was immediately to his left and the farthest point in the room from the front door.
The instant Sadist entered the apartment, Kensley retreated to the dumbwaiter, prepared to reach for the hidden gun, once he’d properly assessed the situation. Sadist clocked them both, his face wrinkled with something besides boredom or calm. He was almost agitated.
“Our timetable to relocate has moved up, Kensley,” Sadist said. “Let’s go.”
He hadn’t included Malori in that statement. “Where are we going? Is Malori coming?”
“The Omega is going somewhere he won’t suffer much longer.”
As soon as Sadist’s hand slipped behind his back, Kensley reached into the dumbwaiter. Yanked out the bundle and tore the fabric from around the gun. Prayed the safety was off, because he didn’t know anything beyond point and pull the trigger. He raised his gun and followed the sight to Sadist, who’d pulled a larger gun on Malori.
With no time to clock Malori’s reaction, Kensley aimed at Sadist’s chest, curled his finger around the trigger, and pulled. Two loud noises filled the room, one after the other. Kensley yelped when the gun jerked in his hands, his ears ringing fromthe report. Sadist sprawled to the ground in a heap. Malori was huddled on the floor beside his chair, head pressed to his pulled-up knees, shaking.
Kensley looked from Malori to Sadist, to the open door and what appeared to be a small lobby beyond it. No one else rushed into the room, guns blazing. Copying what he’d seen in a movie once, he leveled his gun at Sadist and took careful steps forward, expecting the man to sit up and fire at him. The second bang had to have come from Sadist’s gun, which was still loosely gripped in the man’s right hand
Heart in his throat, Kensley used his foot to kick the gun away. Sadist didn’t stir. He lay on his right side, head angled toward the door, and a small puddle of blood was oozing from beneath his jacket. “Malori?” Kensley asked, unsurprised his voice was shaking.
“Is he dead?” Malori’s broken voice was barely audible over the pounding of Kensley’s heart.
“I don’t know.” He nudged Sadist’s leg with his foot, gun never wavering from the asshole’s face. No reaction.
Malori appeared beside Kensley, quiet as a ghost. Kensley didn’t take his eyes off Sadist, not even when Malori pried the gun out of Kensley’s hand. Held it straight out. Kensley shouted when Malori pulled the trigger three times in a row, each round hitting Sadist somewhere in the chest and neck, splattering blood into the air.
“Holy shit,” Kensley wheezed. “Damn.”
Malori aimed once more and shot Sadist in the groin. “It’s not enough, you sick fuck.”
“Um, I think he’s dead now.”
“Maybe.” Malori shot again, and Kensley looked away from the carnage. The next time, the chamber clicked. Six rounds spent. Malori tossed the gun at Sadist, then lurched toward Kensley.
In a flash of panic, Kensley thought Malori was attacking him. Then he spotted the blood on Malori’s shirt, darkening the tan fabric on his left shoulder. “Oh shit, Malori! He shot you.”
“Shot him back.”
