Page 131 of Gone Before Goodbye
OLEG RAGORAVICH, RUSSIAN OLIGARCH, FOUND DEAD
“We have to get out of here,” Nadia says.
Steve takes the lead. Maggie stands on Steve’s left, Nadia behind him so that Steve blocks Less Beefy’s view of her hands. She keeps them together at the wrists so as to sell that she’s still zip-tied. Less Beefy gives them tough-guy vibes by the elevator. Steve smiles and says, “Hey, I need a favor.”
There is no hesitation.
That’s the key. Maggie learned this in military training. There are many things that make a great fighter—size, skill, athleticism, quickness, adaptability, experience, heart—but one thing can often overcome all that.
Surprise.
Maggie smiles. Casual as can be. She doesn’t call out. She doesn’t offer up or even hint at a warning. She doesn’t tense up or slow down or rear back or any of that. She just keeps walking, arms swinging, almost breezy.
Less Beefy isn’t worried. He’s a big man. She’s a small woman.
No threat to him at all.
The whole thing takes less than five seconds.
Maggie picks up speed as she gets closer, her smile grows into something almost flirty. It throws him off, distracts him, and then, before Less Beefy can react, Maggie attacks.
The Web Strike—also called the Y Strike—uses the web between your index finger and thumb. Coming from below, Maggie bends her knees, powers up pistonlike with her legs, and drives the “Y” with as much force as she can muster into his trachea.
It’s a dangerous blow, designed to incapacitate. Maggie doesn’t relish hurting anyone—the physician in her cannot stand to see a person in pain—and yet there it is, the grin on her face, the undeniable thrum in her blood, the adrenaline spike she knows she will never stop craving.
Hello, darkness, my old friend…
Her blow lands clean, unimpeded. Maggie can feel his windpipe give way a little. A gurgling sound escapes his lips. He staggers back, both hands protectively on his throat. But now it’s Nadia’s turn. They had planned this in the seconds before coming out here. It isn’t a complicated plan. It relied on the three S’s—speed, simplicity, surprise.
Nadia jumps toward him like a feral cat. With both his hands out of the way, the path is free. Nadia’s hand darts toward his waist, unstraps the holster, and pulls his gun free. She steps back and points the weapon at the man.
Steve puts his hands up too. “Please don’t shoot me.”
Maggie tries not to make a face at Steve’s overbaked performance. It’s her turn again now. She opens the pouch on the other side of Less Beefy’s belt. According to Nadia, that’s where he keeps his zip ties. She pulls them out. Nadia puts the gun hard against the big man’s temple. There is crazy in her eyes.
“Put your hands behind your back,” Nadia commands.
The man complies. Maggie throws on the zip tie and tightens it. She uses her knee to make his collapse so that he’s now sitting on the ground.
Nadia moves in closer. “Make a sound. Please. Because then I can pull this trigger and blow your head off. I’ll have the excuse to kill you, see? And I want that. So go ahead. Call out.”
Less Beefy seems to be holding his breath.
Nadia gives him one final smile before she turns the gun toward Steve. Steve throws his hands even higher in the air. “Don’t shoot!”
“Call for the elevator,” Nadia orders him.
Steve nods to please and uses his lanyard to get the elevator. He knows, of course, Nadia isn’t going to shoot him. This act of pretending to hold Steve at gunpoint is to peddle the fiction that Steve didn’t cooperate with them, that he too was taken by surprise.
Nadia may be acting, but that gleam in her eye is enough to makeSteve glance at Maggie and make sure that they are all on the same side.
The elevator arrives. Only one elevator comes to this floor—this one—so once it is occupied, it will take whoever wants to reach them that much longer to use the stairs and figure out exactly where they are.
“Move,” Nadia says, pushing Steve in the back with the barrel of the gun.
The three of them enter the elevator. Once inside, Nadia points the gun at Less Beefy until the doors close.
When they do, they hear him shout for help.
