CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER
THEIR MEALS WERE SERVED AND most of it was seafood, some of the best Nash had ever had. A bottle of rice wine helped wash it all down. When Nash chose not to have dessert, Steers said, “A little treat will not ruin your intimidating physique.”
She flicked a finger at something behind Nash, and he was startled when a waiter appeared carrying a small cake with a single candle in it. He placed it in front of Nash, lit the candle, and retreated to the kitchen after giving Steers a fearful look.
“What is this for?” asked Nash.
“Today is your birthday.”
It was Nash’s birthday. He had wished himself a happy one that morning, but he believed no one else knew.
“How did you know?”
“Your passport gives the date.”
Nash smiled. “Of course.”
But then he thought that it was a mistake to give Dillon Hope the same birthday on his alternate passport. If that had made her suspect . . .
“Now, I think it customary in your culture to make a wish and blow out the candle.”
He did so.
“Did you wish?”
“I did.”
“I will not ask for what. That is yours and yours alone.”
“Thank you. The dinner and the cake were very kind.” He handed her a fork. “Will you do me the honor of joining me?”
They ate the cake together, talking about matters unconnected to anything of importance.
They left the restaurant as her protection detail converged around them. The cars had already been brought around and were lined up in front of the restaurant entrance with their engines running.
Nash did not like how the security detail was clustering, because the men had given up their point and surveillance positions by looking inward instead of outward.
He had seen arrogance and complacency in these men before now.
Even the driver of their Maybach was out of the car and looking at Nash and Steers.
But at this moment he was seeing something else: the glint of a knife blade held by Hao, one of her men, as he seized Steers by the arm and slashed at her neck.
Nash had seen Hao work out in the basement gym numerous times. He was the most powerful and, to Nash’s mind, the most arrogant of the crew. But he had one weakness in that when striking out at a combatant, he tended to let his knee edge out over his foot too far, creating a slight imbalance.
Using this knowledge, Nash gripped the man’s knife hand and jerked, pulling Hao further off balance and away from Steers.
Using his grip strength to keep the knife locked in Hao’s hand, he shifted his weight and ripped Hao’s hand up, and the blade bit deeply into the center of Hao’s chest, once and then twice.
Then Nash let go of Hao and watched the dying man fall to the pavement.
He glanced at the other guards, who looked stunned by what had happened.
So maybe Hao was the only traitor?
“Eyes outward and set the perimeter,” Nash barked. “He won’t be alone.”
Then he grabbed Steers and threw her into the Maybach’s back seat. “Stay down,” he told her.
He slammed the door shut and pulled his gun just as automatic weapons fire came at them from the alleyway off to their right. Nash dropped to the pavement as the bullets struck the men in front of him. Within seconds the remaining protection detail members were wiped out.
Nash emptied his mag in the direction of the shots, then crawled forward and snatched weapons from two of the dead men.
He opened fire even as he propelled himself toward the car on his back.
He took return fire and then finished off both mags, spreading his shots in a wide arc before jumping into the driver’s seat of the car.
He shifted into gear and slammed down on the gas, then dodged around the empty lead car in front.
The Maybach flew down the once-quiet street as bullets pinged off the metal hide and bulletproof glass. The tires were also struck but they were run-flat, he knew, and kept rolling. But one heavy round hit the passenger’s side window with such force that it nearly shattered.
“They’ve got explosive rounds,” Nash called out to Steers. “Stay on the floorboard. Do not sit up!”
As more bullets banged off the car, Nash turned right at the next street and then blew through a red light.
He hung a left that probably pushed the Maybach to the limits of its handling capability.
He then orchestrated another turn so extreme that Nash had to use all his strength to maintain control of the heavy vehicle.
This was not the way back to Steers’s building, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to go there.
There had clearly been betrayal in the ranks, and he had no idea how deep it went.
He called Thura, told him what had happened, and instructed him to check on Masuyo and Hiroko. He next called the Hong Kong police and told them what had occurred.
Then Nash drove until he came to a park and stopped the car. “Okay, I think we’re safe.”
When she didn’t answer he looked over the back seat.
“Victoria-san!”
He jumped out of the car, opened the battered rear door, and peered inside.
Steers was on the floorboard, covered in blood.
He turned her over and he could see the slash on her neck.
“Oh my God.”
How the hell did I miss that when I put her into the car?
He popped open the glove box, grabbed the first aid kit there, and treated the wound as best he could. He sat back on his haunches, hovering over her. She was going to die if she didn’t receive medical attention. And quickly.
As he stared down at the critically wounded woman, Nash’s mind filled with the images of his daughter, happy and safe, and then he imagined her bones lying in the dirt. And then the memory of the box in Steers’s basement crept into his mind.
I can do nothing and just let her die right now. I can’t be blamed. I can make a statement to the police and then go home. And my nightmare will be over and Maggie will be avenged.
When the groans of the injured woman reached his ears, Nash knew he could not just sit by and watch Steers die.
And if I ever get to that point, I’m no better than she is.
He drove to the nearest hospital and carried the unconscious Steers into the emergency center, where he screamed for help. Her blood now also covered him.
Doctors and nurses converged to aid them.
Nash told them what had happened, and they quickly triaged Steers’s neck wound. A minute later she was rolled away on a gurney, leaving Nash standing there helpless.
As the swing doors closed behind the medical team with Steers, his phone buzzed. It was Thura.
“All good here, man. You saying one of them tried to kill her?”
“Yes, Hao. I neutralized him, but the rest of the detail is dead. They didn’t appear to be in on it. But it was an ambush all the way. So keep your eyes and ears open, all right?”
“You got it. Think she’s gonna make it?”
Nash looked toward the doors through which they had whisked Steers away. “I don’t know.”
He clicked off and hung his head. Part of me wants her not to recover. But another part of me? After what I’ve seen and what Hiroko told me?
He waggled his head, the inner debate in his mind beyond his ability to process it.
“Sir?”
He looked up to see a nurse standing in front of him.
“Yes?”
“You are injured.”
“What?”
She pointed to his forearm. Where his jacket sleeve had been ripped open there was blood, his blood.
“Come with me.”
He rose and she led him over to a small cubicle. The nurse had him take off his jacket and roll up his sleeve.
“It is not too bad,” she said. “But it could become infected.”
He looked at the damaged flesh and immediately thought of Steers.
“Does it hurt much?” she asked.
“Well, considering I didn’t even know I was wounded until you pointed it out, I guess the answer is no.”
As the nurse worked on him she shot Nash curious glances. “I do not see a ring, so was that woman your girlfriend?”
Nash, who had been staring at the floor, looked up. “What?”
“The woman you brought in? Your girlfriend?”
“No, she’s. . .my. . .boss.”
“Oh, I see.” The woman did not look like she believed him.
After she was done, Nash returned to his seat and kept an eagle eye on the doors leading into the emergency center.
Whoever had ambushed them might have managed to follow them, intending to finish the job.
Nash had already reloaded his Glock, and he still had his Beretta.
He had also called the police again and told them where he and Steers were.
An hour later Nash jerked upright when a number of officers entered the building. One of them, who appeared to be in charge, looked around and spotted Nash, who rose and hurried toward him.
“Are you the one who phoned?” said the officer, who glanced over all the blood on Nash’s clothes.
“Yes. Ms. Steers is with the doctors. She was badly wounded.”
“We have found the dead men. I need to know exactly what happened. And I need to see your identification.”
Nash showed him his passport, and for the next half hour he went over all the details as best as he could remember them, while one of the other officers took down his account on a laptop.
“So one of her own people tried to kill her?” said the officer.
“Yes. I used his knife against him. That’s when the gunfire opened up. The other men were killed. And we got away in the car. I didn’t notice she was wounded until we stopped.”
“And you were wounded as well?” he said, noting the bandage wrapped around Nash’s arm.
“Just a nick.”
The officer nodded and looked sharply at Nash, his expression suddenly unfriendly. “So you work for Victoria Steers?”
“Yes. As part of her security detail.”
“And she is unable to speak to us presently?”
“She’s unconscious. Lost a lot of blood. She’s probably in surgery right now.”
The man looked at his assistant, who was taking notes, and shook his head. The assistant closed the computer.
“In Hong Kong the police well know of Ms. Steers,” said the officer.
“Okay,” said Nash dully.
“She has many enemies.”
Nash said nothing.
“And they could very well be the ones who tried to kill her tonight.”
“Looks to be the case,” replied Nash.
“And the fact is, Ms. Steers is a criminal, but we have yet to prove this. She . . .” He paused and looked around. “She has friends in high places.”
“I know nothing about that,” lied Nash.
“Your passport says you are an American?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then how did you come to work for her?” asked the officer.
“I was employed by someone else and she liked how I did my job,” replied Nash.
“But she only uses other Asians for protection. This is because she trusts them.”
“Well, that trust didn’t work out so well tonight, did it?”
The officer rose. “We will see what we can do. But we have much to work on right now. So results on her case may not be forthcoming quickly. If at all. But then again, she may die and no investigation will be necessary.”
The man smiled and suddenly Nash felt defensive of Steers.
“No one should get away with murder,” he said.
“I completely agree,” said the officer, his expression once more serious. “And that includes your boss.”