CHAPTER 98
KEVIN DOYLE LARGELY tuned out most of what Joe had to say. He had to, before it made his stomach sour. But now he was listening to the tubby hit man.
“A big Black guy just stopped them in front of the building. He’s giant. I can’t even see Bennett behind him. I can see the young partner. Didn’t you say he was also a potential target?”
Doyle took a quick peek over the edge of the roof. He could see the gigantic man talking with Bennett and his partner, Rob Trilling. Doyle thought about the information sheet he’d read about the partner, a former Army Ranger. He blurted out, “No. Don’t worry about the partner.”
Joe said, “I can maybe put one right through the big guy and still hit Bennett. I can always take a second shot after they are both on the ground.” He moved slightly and readjusted his position.
“Hang on a minute. Bennett’s got to walk to his car. You’ll get your chance. Just be patient.”
Joe growled, “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“A garbage truck just pulled into my line of sight. I can’t see a thing.”
Doyle risked another peek. This whole thing was starting to eat at him. It just didn’t feel right. Bennett was just doing his job. It wasn’t like he was crooked or had done anything terrible, despite what Joe said. Somehow Doyle’s employer had found someone who harbored a grudge against Bennett. That didn’t help the way Doyle felt at the moment.
Joe kept sighting in on the front of the building. “The garbage truck is moving on, but the big guy is still blocking my shot. I’m gonna put one through his neck, which should be just about Bennett’s face.”
Doyle felt like he was going to vomit. He bit his lower lip and glanced over the wall. He wondered whether anyone would notice him if he stood up. If Bennett reacted quickly, he could get out of the way.
Doyle had no idea who the giant man talking to Bennett was. He looked too big to be a detective. It would be too hard to get in and out of cars and chase people if he had to. More likely he was some kind of analyst. Doyle knew that a good intelligence analyst was worth a lot of cops, or soldiers, depending on where you worked.
Then Joe said, “Okay, I’ve got him. As soon as he crosses the street his whole body will be in view under the train tracks.” Then he went silent.
That’s when Doyle realized just how bad this assignment really was. He glanced down at his temporary partner. Joe was concentrating and not paying attention to anything except what was in his scope. Probably Bennett’s head.
Doyle felt anxious and jittery. Then he made a split-second decision. One he knew he’d regret later. He nudged Joe with his leg before he could take the shot.
Joe lost his balance and ended up sitting flat on his ass. “What the hell are you doing?”
“This isn’t the place or time.”
“This is the perfect place and time. Are you crazy? I’ve killed guys for doing less than you just did.”
Doyle realized the mistake he’d made. While Joe sat there and stared at him, open-mouthed, Doyle reached into his pocket and, with a flick of his thumb and wrist, popped out the four-inch folding knife he kept honed to a ridiculous edge. With no hesitation, he jabbed the blade straight up under Joe’s chin.
The steel blade passed through Joe’s soft palate at the roof of his mouth and into his brain. It caught him midsentence. Doyle wasn’t even sure what the hit man had been saying. He just stopped. There wasn’t even a change in his eyes. He was still staring straight ahead as Doyle slowly withdrew the blade.
Joe flopped over onto the roof. There was some blood, but not that much. The attack was so swift his heart only beat a few times after the blow.
Doyle recognized he’d made an error. He just couldn’t stand to see a guy like Joe shoot someone like Bennett. If anyone asked him, Doyle wouldn’t be able to explain it. Especially in light of the fact that he had killed dozens on his own.
He’d make a quick call to his friend Amir. No one would ever find a trace of Joe’s body. He’d tell his employer he didn’t know what happened to Joe. He intended to say, “We tried to find Bennett but couldn’t.”
Doyle took a moment to unscrew the rifle and stick it back in its fancy case. Then he started to slide Joe toward the rooftop door. It only took a few seconds of dragging the fat hit man for Doyle to realize he should’ve stabbed him on the first floor, not on the roof.