Chapter 47
Bloch
Split-second decisions seemed to take a long time in Bloch’s mind.
Time is relative.
With a giant killer in front of her and two armed hitmen coming for her, time was real slow.
Fire the shotgun and give away her position to the hit team.
Or . . .
Take her chances dropping the giant quickly and quietly, keeping him alive as a living witness. Someone who could testify about who hired them and why.
Only one option led to the truth.
She dropped the barrel of the shotgun as she stepped forward and then reversed her grip.
The blonde giant grinned and spread his arms wide as Bloch advanced, ready to grab her.
He looked strong enough to take her head off bare-handed.
She held the shotgun like a club, close to her body, but instead of swinging it she ducked and lunged and then drove the stock straight up under the giant’s exposed throat.
But she wasn’t aiming for his windpipe – she wanted bone. The stock found it. This wasn’t unexpected, considering the man’s chin was the size of a porcelain sink.
He dropped to his knees, his head rocked back, but Bloch was already moving past him at speed, the stock now at her shoulder and the barrel pointed at the right-hand side of the house, the iron sights trained on the corner of the building.
Her focus stayed there as her boots found the porch steps, and she ascended them stepping sideways, the shotgun levelled at the corner at all times.
A head poked round the corner.
Bloch pulled the trigger.
A cloud of brick dust blew off the edge of the building. The dust cloud cleared to reveal a bloodied, bald head. The body followed it to the floor. She had missed him, but the brick shrapnel dislodged from the shot had done the job for her.
The pistol fell from his dead hands.
Bloch’s right shoulder hit the wall of the house and she scraped along it toward the end, keeping tight, narrowing the angle for the short man with the black hair wearing the baggy overalls.
He was the leader, Bloch had guessed, and he had yet to put his head round the corner.
Considering what had happened to his bald friend, he might just think twice about poking any body part round it.
She shut her mouth, tried to slow down her breathing.
Listened.
All she could hear was the beating of her own heart.
Shit.
The short guy now had the advantage.
Right now, he could be doubling back, coming through the house and be out the front door in twenty seconds. If he did that, he would be behind her, with Bloch’s back against a wall and no cover. Or, he could play the double bluff and come around the corner of the house shooting at tight angles.
Shit.
Only way to play this was to beat the odds.
She should widen her killing field. Run back to her truck and get behind it, giving her a broad field of fire covering the corner of the house and the front door.
She lowered the shotgun, looked at her Jeep.
Thirty feet away.
Her boots would be hammering on that gravel.
There were three poor options here.
Go through the house, but maybe he was heading that way and had already taken cover in the kitchen with a kill shot lined up for Bloch soon as she stepped onto those tiles.
Try for the Jeep. Play the odds. But thirty feet of open ground lay between Bloch and the perfect firing position.
Or stay put.
Which was the biggest risk?
House. Jeep and cover. Or stay on the corner.
Three different ways to survive or three different ways to get herself killed.
This last armed man already knew Bloch must’ve dealt with the giant quietly. And his bald partner was down.
This wasn’t the short guy’s first rodeo. He was trained and experienced.
The only question was how smart this man would be in this situation and how clearly he would think his problem through. Given his professionalism, he’d probably been killing people for a long time.
That meant he was either really smart, or really lucky.
In moments like this, death comes fast and easy. But it’s not making the wrong decision that takes a life, it’s freezing up and not making any kind of decision at all.
She didn’t like any of the three options.
She decided to make a fourth.
Bloch angled the shotgun toward the sky, pulled the trigger twice.
Double tap.
Blowing through the second slug in the chamber and the buckshot.
She immediately dropped to the gravel. Belly on the ground, stock at her shoulder.
The short man would’ve heard the shots.
He knew the last thing Bloch wanted to do was give away her position.
He would think that she was shooting at the only other possible target.
The giant.
Which meant she would be at the front of the house, probably behind the Jeep.
Facing the giant at the van. The short man would know distraction was the biggest weapon he had in his arsenal.
If he was a pro, he would come tearing round that corner, running at full speed, trying to get to the van and shooting while he moved.
He wouldn’t anticipate Bloch had stayed put. That she would be low, and waiting, and that she had fired into the air to lure him out. Because he knew she was smart enough not to take that chance.
The short man burst from the side of the building, firing at the Jeep.
The stock kicked into Bloch’s shoulder as she fired the remaining slugs.
The short man’s feet left the gravel, and he would never stand up on them again.
She lowered the empty shotgun, put one hand on the wall to steady herself as she rose to her feet. Adrenaline always made her feel a little light-headed.
Footsteps on the gravel.
Big, heavy ones.
Moving fast.
Bloch turned, saw the elbow slam into her face, heard the dull echo of her skull bouncing off the wall and her vision blurred.
The shotgun fell from her grip. Massive hands took hold of her jacket and slammed her body against the wall.
This time, she tucked her chin into her chest so only her shoulders hit the bricks but it was still enough to knock all the air out of her.
She stared up at the face of the giant. His lips drawn back, teeth bared, his jaw already swollen on the left side from when Bloch put the stock of the shotgun through it.
The pain from the blow to the face and her skull being smashed against the wall was beginning to bite, hard. She welcomed it. The pain blew away the drowsiness and Bloch started to think.
If the giant stayed on his feet there was only one way this was going to go, and that wouldn’t work out well for Bloch. Her magnum was on her hip, but he was too close and there was no way to draw and fire without him grabbing it from her. He was way too strong for that kind of move.
Instead, Bloch leaned in close, tucked her feet behind her and used the weight of her body falling as momentum. She grabbed the giant’s left thigh, wrapping her left arm around it, and sank the heel of her right palm into the side of his left knee.
Pulling his thigh with her left.
Pushing on the side of his knee with her right.
His stance widened and he tried to get his left foot off the ground to straighten it and alleviate the pressure, but Bloch already had all of her weight on that leg.
A clubbing blow landed on the side of her head.
She pulled.
She pushed.
The giant screamed as his knee separated, then he landed on his back like an oak tree that had been felled.
Bloch was on her knees, panting, shaking her head, trying to clear it. She had to put him out, now. Or pull the magnum and put a bullet in him.
One thought permeated the haze of adrenaline.
Keep him alive for Eddie. They needed to know who had sent him.
She had a better idea. No point in wrestling him into a sleeper hold. Another blow on the head with the butt of her magnum would put him out like a light.
She reached for her gun, nicknamed Maggie.
‘Freeze! Police!’
The voice came from her left.
Captain Landry had his police weapon drawn, and aimed at her.
‘Nice and slow, finger and thumb on the butt of that magnum. Draw it and toss it.’
Bloch did as she was asked as Landry approached her in a shooting stance. She was fast, but she couldn’t get the gun up and pointed at Landry before he could pull the trigger.
No point.
She had no other choice.
Bloch tossed the weapon at Landry’s feet.
Something distracted her attention as she raised her hands in surrender.
Blue and red flashing lights through the foliage. Landry must’ve parked his patrol car at the property gate and walked in quietly.
‘Don’t you move. Hands behind your head. And don’t try for that shotgun. You’re not that fast,’ said Landry.
Bloch locked her fingers together behind her head.
Ten feet from her now, Landry knelt down and picked up her magnum with his left hand, keeping his own pointed at Bloch in his right hand.
The giant was still on his back, gasping, clutching his knee.
‘Is he shot?’ asked Landry, as he drew level with the incapacitated giant.
‘No,’ said Bloch.
Landry stood up to full height. Casually pointed Bloch’s magnum at the giant.
And blew his head off.
He dropped Bloch’s magnum, aimed his own weapon at her head.
‘Where’s the guy who called this in?’
Raymond.
Damn, she should have told him not to call the local cops.
‘He ran,’ said Bloch.
‘I’ll find him. By then it will be too late.
He will have caught a bullet. Maybe from that shotgun of yours.
The fewer survivors, the easier this will be to clean up.
Looks to me like you killed four men in cold blood.
But one of them managed to get a good shot on you before he died. Chest shot, I think.’
Bloch thought about her tactical vest. It was a Mil-Tec tactical combat vest. With two polyethylene plates in the carriers.
One in front. One in back. Each plate gave level-three ballistic protection, but weighed only three and a half pounds.
She hadn’t skimped on the plates. They would stop a standard NATO round, and were five pounds lighter than a steel plate.
If Landry shot and hit the chest plate . . .
Bloch would be sore. But just fine.
The vest would save her.
Too bad it was still safely locked in the trunk of her Jeep.
Bloch closed her eyes.
And waited for the shot.