Project Maigo(9)

As I sail through the air, Collins doesn’t reveal a thing. Her eyes stay on Endo. Her expression doesn’t change. Nothing about her gives away my attack, and my approach is all but silent.

Yet, Endo somehow senses my aerial approach. He doesn’t turn to attack me or dive out of the way. I could have lived with some kind of dramatic conclusion. He just takes a single step to the side, moving out of the way just enough, so I fly past and land hard on the ground.

I’m able to curl in on myself, rolling as I hit, but holy hell, concrete is an unforgiving surface. I’m going to be in serious pain tomorrow. And since I’m not a ninja, or Endo, my sprawling roll doesn’t end until I slam into the side of a metal container. The empty container bongs from the impact, like a symbol at the end of a joke.

To my surprise, when I right myself and turn around, Endo and the woman are still standing there. “Don’t move,” I say, sounding very un-authoritative. I climb to my feet. “You’re under arrest.”

Endo smiles. “We’re in China.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He turns to the woman, his confidence never wavering. “I’ll see you at the plane.”

She nods.

Then they split like an atom, exploding into two different directions. Despite having already sprinted the length of a football field and dropping from the sky like Evel Knievel at Snake River, I throw myself after Endo and shout, “Get the woman!” I don’t look back to see if Collins is giving chase. I know she is.

Endo is a blur. He’s not a big guy. Maybe 5’5”, and he’s skinny. Maneuvering through the maze of containers, both upright and spilled, is far easier for him, than it is for me. Where he moves with finesse, I—well, I just do my best. And somehow, I manage to stick with him.

Until I don’t.

He ducks into an alley between two bright yellow containers, and when I follow, he’s gone. Fifty feet separate the corner from the next turn. No way he could have made it all the way. Unless he’s been running slow on purpose, pulling some kind of pursuit rope-a-dope.

“Ahem.” The cleared throat comes from behind me. I try to hide my surprise as I turn around, but Endo knows I’m flabbergasted. The smile on his face mocks me like a childhood bully.

He leans back casually against a container. Glances up at the sky, like he’s got nothing better to do than wonder whether or not it’s going to rain. Then he says, “We don’t have to be enemies.”

“We’re not,” I say. “You’re a criminal. I’m in law enforcement. I’m just doing my job.”

“You’ve been trying to find evidence against me all year,” he says. “Sounds like a vendetta to me.”

I nearly deny it, but it’s clear he knows better. I suppose when you work for the most high-tech company in the world, even government secrets can’t stay hidden for long. Which makes me wonder what else he knows. Man, I’ve really got to get this guy in an interrogation room.

“You’re a murderer,” I say, stepping closer.

“When I killed, it was under the orders of a United States general.” Endo stands up straight, taking his weight off the container. “When you brought Tilly to the edge of that roof and offered his life to Maigo, you weren’t under orders. He hadn’t been convicted or sentenced. According to the law, you took an innocent man and had him executed.”

Two things stop me in place. First, I agree with him. Technically, I killed Tilly, or was, at least, an accessory to his murder. I just don’t feel bad about it, because he murdered his wife and daughter, and my taking the law into my own hands spared the city from further destruction. Second, Endo is the only other person I’ve ever heard call the monster by the name Maigo.

His grin returns. “We want the same thing: to protect the world from further destruction. We’re just going about it differently.”

“How’s that?” I ask, stepping forward again, closing to within striking distance.

“You think brute force will stop her,” he says, and he’s wrong about that. I’m not sure anything short of a nuke could stop her, and I’m entirely against that option, though some in Washington disagree. “I believe in a more subtle approach,” he says.

Going for the unsubtle approach, I take a swing, hoping to catch him off guard. No matter how experienced a fighter he is, one good clock to the head will drop him. If only the man didn’t have the reflexes of a mantis shrimp, it might have worked.

Ducking my punch, which overextends my body and leaves me open for a painful counter-attack, Endo simply leaps up and slaps me across the side of my head, striking my temple with his open palm.