Silent Assassin(103)

“Let me propose a deal first,” said Charles.

“Screw you,” said Morgan.

“It’s time sensitive and good for right now only!” said Charles. “I don’t doubt your . . . persuasiveness. I’m sure you’ll get me to say everything and more, eventually—ah, and that ‘and more’ is really the tricky part, isn’t it? But never mind, not here. Here, I offer you a one-time deal.”

“We’re listening,” said Bloch.

“I give you Novokoff and you let me go,” said Charles.

“He’s diseased,” said Bloch. “He’s going to die anyway.”

“I know what the fungus does,” said Charles. “It will make him more and more violent.”

“It’ll also kill him,” said Bloch.

“That it will,” said Charles. “But who knows how long the serum is going to keep him alive? And Novokoff is a man who can cause quite a bit of violence under normal circumstances. Imagine what he could do, filled with rage and knowing for a fact that he is going to die?”

Put like that, even in his own anger, it sent a chill down Morgan’s spine.

“Then there’s the matter of his disease. A bit contagious, isn’t it? Enough, probably, to kill, what, thirty, forty percent of the population of any place where it took hold?”

Bloch looked at Smith with an uncertain face. Smith offered no emotion.

“The clock’s ticking,” he said.

“You’re not actually thinking about this, are you?” Morgan asked.

“Why should we trust you?” Bloch asked Charles.

“Oh, you don’t think I actually want to cause a mass outbreak of this fungus, do you?”

“It’s what you tried before,” she said.

“That was for profit. And that whole plan is shot to hell now, isn’t it? There’s no use destabilizing the market if I don’t get to make money out of it. Trust me—” Morgan scoffed. “Trust me. I would personally much prefer if Novokoff were captured and killed. There is nothing that he could reveal that could do more harm than has already been done.”

“What do you want?” asked Smith.

“Simple,” he said. “My freedom.”

“I can guarantee your freedom if we find Novokoff,” said Smith.

“What good are guarantees? You are not the government. You have no constraints on your actions.

“What can I offer you, Mr. Charles?” asked Smith. “A helicopter? A plane?”

“There’s nothing you can offer me that you can’t arrange a trap for me,” said Charles. “Unless it happens now. I want the car you came in. I’ll give you his location as I drive away.”

“You must think we’re stupid,” said Morgan.

“I have no reason to hide his location from you. I want him killed. But it’s my only bargaining chip. That is my offer. And trust me, it expires very, very soon.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bloch.

“Novokoff will act soon. You know it and I know it. You need all the time you can get. Let me go, and you have your information now.”

Bloch looked at Smith, who nodded in assent.

“You can’t be serious,” Morgan said, exasperated.

“Quiet, Dan,” said Bloch. “This is not your decision to make. I think we have a deal, Mr. Charles.”

Morgan’s mind burned with anger. “He’s as responsible as Novokoff for what he did to my wife.”

“The question is, Cobra,” interjected Charles, “do you want to be responsible for the deaths of thousands?”

Bloch pulled Morgan aside. “Look, Morgan, I’m sorry, but there’s a greater good to consider here. You need to keep your feelings in check.”

“Mr. Charles, you may have my keys,” said Smith. “Morgan, would you cut him free?”

Morgan shot Smith the stink eye. Then he took out his knife and, resisting the urge to sink it into the man’s chest, cut the tape that was holding him to the chair.

“Thank you,” said Charles. “And I’ll thank everyone to leave their guns inside. I’m looking for a clean getaway here.”

Morgan put his Walther on the counter, and Bloch added a small snub-nosed revolver. Smith had nothing to place there. They all walked outside, and Smith gave his car keys to Charles. He got into Smith’s Mitsubishi, started the motor and then lowered the window.

“He’s in New York. He’s planning something for the St. Patrick’s Day parade. Something big. That’s all I know. Now, please kill him for me.” He began to accelerate. “So long, and thanks—”

Before he could get the sentence out, Morgan had drawn his backup gun from its ankle holster, an Airweight nickel-plated Smith and Wesson two-inch revolver, and shot Charles clean through the head. The car accelerated blindly and crashed into a tree. Bloch and Smith just looked at him speechlessly. Morgan put away his gun and walked back into the house.