Silent Assassin(34)

“No,” he said. “I’ll get the drinks.” He turned on some smooth jazz with the stereo remote control. “You dance.”

He poured two glasses of wine as he watched her sway to the music, eyes closed, hands running along her body. He was standing in front of her when she opened her eyes again, and she gave a little start.

“Your glass,” he said, extending it in his left hand to her. “Take it.”

“I can’t,” she said nervously.

“I said take it,” he growled. She took the glass sheepishly from his hand and took a nervous sip. He grinned triumphantly. He was going to have fun slowly breaking this one. He took a mouthful of the wine. It was good and got his blood flowing.

“So tell me,” he said, in almost a whisper. “What other rules are we going to be breaking tonight?”

He downed the rest of his wine, then grabbed her by the wrist again. “Do I make you nervous?” he said, in a way calculated to make her nervous. Judging by her expression, it worked.

“How about I pour you another?” she said, taking his glass in her free hand and backing away. He had to smile. He had succeeded in rattling her, at last, and she wanted a moment away. He’d give it to her.

“Yeah. Why don’t you do that?”

She picked up the glasses and turned her back to him. He smirked, looking at her back, then looked at his reflection on the full-length mirror of the far wall. Sharp. Something in the mirror caught his attention: her hands, hovering over the wineglass for just a second, and then a tiny, empty vial between her fingers. Anger welled up inside him as he realized its significance.

He didn’t react and put on a blank face when she turned around with a wide smile and handed him the wineglass. He took it, and raised it.

“To your beauty,” he said. She smiled and clinked her glass against his. He raised the glass to his lips. Then, instead of drinking, he tossed it aside violently so that it shattered in a thousand pieces on the hardwood floor. He caught her by the hair. “So, you were trying to drug me?”

“What?” she said, trying to wrestle free. “No! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were!” he hissed.

“No, I swear!” said Risa. “Look, okay, I did put something in your drink. But it’s just something to make this night more fun!”

“I’ll give you fun,” he snarled, and backhanded her across the face.





Morgan met Bishop’s eye, and they didn’t have to say a word. Both men were already getting up. Shepard’s voice came over the comm: “You guys getting this? You’d better get in there!” Morgan dropped two bills on the table, and they ran out of the bar and across the street to the door of the apartment building.

“Lying bitch!” Morgan heard Stuart yell through his earpiece. “You were trying to drug me! You were going to rob me, weren’t you? Is that your deal? Huh? Is that what they tell you to do at that whorehouse?”

“No! I swear!” She sounded more and more distressed. “I don’t want anything from you. Please, just let me go!”

Morgan swiped the key card at the front door and they dashed inside, past the lobby. Stewart’s place was seven floors up, and the elevators were both higher than that. This couldn’t wait. They made for the stairs.

“I thought I paid top dollar to avoid your kind of thieving gutter trash.” His voice was getting increasingly menacing. Morgan’s legs burned to keep up with Bishop as they ran up three steps at a time.

“But I guess a whore’s a whore, right?” He heard the sound of glass shattering and a heavy piece of furniture being knocked over. “What else can you expect?”

“Stay away from me!” came Risa’s tearful voice.

They reached Stuart’s floor, and Bishop tried the door, but it was locked.

“Who the hell is that? One of your buddies?”

“Oh hell,” said Morgan. “Stand back, Bishop.”

He took a few steps back and then kicked the door as hard as he could right next to the knob. The frame splintered around the lock, and the door slowly swung open. On the floor, on top of an expensive-looking Persian rug, was Len Stuart, inert but still breathing, looking especially small and shriveled with his scrawny build and prematurely balding head. Standing above him with a little smile as if she were welcoming them for a dinner party, was Risa Rispoli.

“What the hell happened?” said Morgan.

“Lenny took a nap,” she said, as she walked past them.

“The point of your coming here was to subdue him without a fight!” Bishop hissed.