Capture
“My father was an assassin. He killed people. A lot of people, I think. And then Shelton killed him.”
Russo sat in silence for ten minutes listening to the tale Alex told. The telling became easier with repetition. He compacted the main points into short bursts. He could tell from the reporter’s eyes that he believed him, fantastic though his story was.
“Why?” The reporter knew how to listen and when to ask questions, he knew also to keep the questions short and simple. It was always better to let someone tell their tale their own way. Listening to the unfolding horror of assassinations and dubious experimentation, Russo wished he had brought a mini-recorder with him but he was blessed with a fine memory. Somehow, he didn’t think this story was something he would easily forget. It was easy to see why Alex was afraid. Allowing for a certain amount of exaggeration still made Alex the most extraordinary person Russo had ever met.
He stared at Alex with a mixture of compassion and revulsion. Revulsion because of what the young man could do, had done to him. It was akin to being raped, Russo thought. He had covered rape stories in his past, interviewed victims. The one abiding memory was the feeling of being unclean. That no matter how much you scrubbed, dirt remained, staining you indelibly. He was beginning to feel the same himself. His mind had been tampered with, tainted by its exposure to Alex’s probing. He felt dirty. Compassion because the man sitting across from him was as much a victim as the people he touched. He hadn’t asked for this, didn’t want it. It had been forced upon him by the twisted imaginations of one man.
His mind had wandered slightly. Alex had stopped talking.
“I’m sorry,” Russo said. “Could you repeat that.”
“I’m afraid he can’t,” whispered a voice in his ear. Kyle Ricci dragged a chair to the table and sat beside the reporter.
“Hello, Alex. We’ve been expecting you.” Chazz Borkan said softly from behind them.
Alex blinked hard, but he was still there. Across the cafeteria, smug smile on his lips, blonde hair swept back, Kyle Ricci was staring straight at him. A cramp of cold fear gripped his lower belly and he stopped talking, fear drying the words on his lips. He felt numb, his limbs unable to move, his breath caught in his throat. His hand had been holding Madeleine’s and the shock to his system was delivered to her own even before his hand involuntarily clenched, squeezing the bones painfully.
Ricci! She felt a shudder that was all her own as she made contact with the killer’s eyes. And then it was all too late, the assassin was at the table
“Who are you?”
“Your time for asking questions is over, Mr. Russo.” Under the table, Ricci’s right hand pushed a needle into the reporter’s midriff. Russo was too shocked by the sudden stabbing pain to react with more than a grunt. In seconds he was unconscious, Ricci helped him lean back in the seat, his eyes closed and his head drooping onto his chest.
“Time to go, Alex,” Ricci smiled.
“Just take it nice and easy, Alex,” Borkan cautioned. “Let’s not do anything to draw attention to ourselves now.” He rested his hands on their shoulders. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Whyte. Don’t you worry now. Alex isn’t going to do anything silly and give us cause to hurt you. Are you?”
Alex stared dumbly at him, too shocked to speak. He was a fool. To think he could get away from them. How long had they been there? Just waiting for him? And now it was over. He felt Madeleine squeeze his hand back. He looked in her eyes and saw fear, yes, but something else as well. Defiance. And then her thoughts, filtering through the haze of their newly established mental link, words coming and going, some clear, others washed out by the white noise of interference.
. . . Don’t believe him, Alex… . trust him… have to get away… stop them…
Her thoughts sharpened as adrenaline flowed through his body, the connection cleared.
—We have to get away, Alex. Don’t worry about me, we’re in this together, now.—
—But I can’t let them hurt you.—
—It doesn’t matter anymore. Can’t you see? If they take you away, they hurt me.—
—But…—
—No buts. Do you really think they are going to let me go? Take a look around you, Alex. Look at Russo. Look at Ricci. You don’t have to read minds to see what’s going through his.—
He knew she was right, Shelton wanted him back, alive. Him. But there was no provision for Madeleine. He did look at Ricci, and what he saw was more terrifying than anything else he had witnessed or discovered. The killer was looking not at him, but at Madeleine and the cast in his eyes was plain to see.
He felt increased pressure on his shoulder. It had only been seconds since Borkan spoke.
“No,” he said, licking dry lips. “No, I won’t do anything stupid.” He squeezed Madeleine’s hand once more, imparting a final thought, then released her.
“That’s good, Alex. I have to say, you’ve been quite impressive over the last couple of days.” Borkan stepped away slightly from them, his hands falling to the backs of the chairs. Alex pushed his chair back slowly. He tensed his muscles, straightening his legs as he stood and suddenly grabbed the table and flipped it forwards, stepping back and driving his elbow into Borkan’s stomach.
“Run,” he shouted at Madeleine. She needed no further encouragement.
The plate of noodles and his burger and fries flew at Ricci and the unconscious form of the reporter. Madeleine spun away to her left, avoiding the crashing table, bumping heavily into the occupied table in the next row. Food scattered everywhere, crockery dropped to the floor and cracked and splintered. Her foot skidded on a burger bun and she went down on one knee, avoiding Borkan’s flailing arms.
The thrown table knocked Ricci over in the chair, he struggled to push it off him as Alex, breaking free of the loose hand hold Borkan had found, thrust himself forward. His feet clattered on the underside of the table, pressing it down onto Ricci’s chest as he leapt across it, one foot landing squarely in the middle and forcing the air out of the other man’s lungs. Ricci swore violently, his hands trapped under the weight of the table and then Alex was passed and lunging at the perimeter of the cafeteria. Behind him, Borkan was regaining his feet. He had a split second to choose between going after Alex or the woman. Madeleine was back on her feet too and side-stepped the fallen man. Borkan ignored her. Capturing Alex was his prime objective. He had hoped to do it quietly, but that was no longer possible. Now it just had to be done quickly. He hurdled Ricci as his partner extricated himself from under the table. Alex was twenty feet ahead, the diners at surrounding tables quickly vacating their seats, scrabbling to get out of the way of the fight that had broken out around them.
A small glass and chrome barrier designated the end of the dining area. Alex put his hands on the chrome ledge and vaulted the wall. People on the perimeter were standing agog at the outbreak of violence, a security guard came running towards Alex, radio in hand, calling for assistance. Alex dodged past the uniformed man, pushing him in the back as he skirted around him, sending him towards Borkan. The pursuing Tech lashed out with his foot, kicking the guard’s feet from under him and leapt over his falling body. Alex heard the man shout and risked a glance behind him. Borkan was gaining. He turned back and was struck in the chest, another man, wearing jeans and a lumberjack shirt had launched himself at Alex from his blind side.
Alex reeled backwards toward the barrier marking the end of the floor. Below him was a sheer drop four stories to the ground floor of the mall. The Technician closed the gap to Alex who was gasping for breath. He grasped hold of Alex by his shirt and pulled him towards him. Alex allowed himself to be dragged forwards, offering no resistance and then lunged forward, head butting the Technician. The sudden lunge caught him by surprise before the blossoming pain of ruptured cartilage sent bolts of bright lights exploding in his head. He staggered back, releasing Alex.
Borkan had been detained by the arrival of further security guards, he fought his way past them in time to see Alex break free from the Tech. Alex shoved the injured man towards him and continued to run, heading for the escalators. The Tech barrelled into Borkan, hands held to his bloody face. Borkan elbowed him roughly aside, sending him towards the barrier from where he had just pulled Alex. His body careened into the low wall and he lost his balance, toppling over the barrier. A shocked cry escaped his lips, his bloody hands grasped for purchase on the slippery chrome as he dropped forty feet to the ground. Screams of horror rose up around the mall as the man fell, landing with a heavy splash into the small pool in the centre of the atrium, gazing up with sightless eyes at the glass ceiling.
Time seemed to stop as everyone halted for an instant at the sound of the man’s cry being cut off as he made contact with the ground below.
Madeleine saw nothing of the struggle behind her, she raced through the aisle of tables a low moan of panic escaping her lips as she ran. Her foot tangled in the strap of a woman’s handbag as she reached the exit of the cafeteria and she went sprawling across the floor, pain jabbing at her from her ankle. Behind her, Ricci had thrown the table off himself. He staggered to his feet, noodles clinging wetly to the dark fabric of his suit. He saw Borkan chase after Alex and made his own decision to follow Madeleine, his agenda suddenly more personal than before. He ran after her, his face reddened and pride smarting from being caught out by so simple a trick.
Madeleine pulled herself to her feet, wincing at the pain in her ankle and limped across the floor, ducking into the entrance of a book shop. Ricci shouted at her to stop but she paid no heed to his words, the closeness of his voice spurring her on. She gritted her teeth and ran through the upper floor of the book store doing her best to ignore the flaring hurt in her damaged joint. A carousel of books stood in the centre of the pathway through the shop and she flung her arm out as she passed it, hearing it crash to the carpeted floor, scattering books behind her. Through the shop, stairs to the right, she turned into the stairway in time to see Ricci clear the fallen stand of books.
Her ankle screamed at her as she began to descend the stairs and she had to hold onto the banister. Ricci’s footsteps pounded closer and suddenly she was crashing into the wall.
Ricci saw the woman trip, her foot entangled in the strap of a purse. Snarling in anger, he gave chase. She staggered to her feet and he grinned as he saw the awkwardness of her gait. She was hurt. Into the bookstore, past startled clerks, the bitch knocked over a stand of books. He leapt over them, his grin stretching wider, he almost had her, heard her breath ragged as she bit back pain from her ankle, and then he was on her.
Madeleine slammed into the wall. Her outstretched hands softened the impact but she still collided with bone jarring force. The air sighed out of her lungs and she spun around, using the wall for balance, in time to see Ricci’s hand flash in front of her and feel the stinging sensation of his slap. Her cheek glowed and she felt a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth as her head rocked back and hit the wall. Her vision blurred and she did not see the next blow, only felt it’s numbing force and heard the assassin’s voice before she blacked out.
“Got you, you bitch!”
Alex heard the Tech cry out as he fell over the barrier. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he heard the sickening thud and splash of the man’s body hitting the floor forty feet below. He paused a half step in his run but could not allow himself to feel remorse for what had happened. The escalators approached, a quick look behind him, he’d gained a few precious seconds on Borkan. Maybe he would make it.
Ten paces to the escalator. Eight. The mother with the pushchair was standing near the up escalator, hushing the child concealed within the cot. Something wasn’t right about her. Six paces. He couldn’t think what it was, but there was something wrong, he knew it instinctively. Another pace and then it happened. The woman shoved the pushchair away from her. Its path took it right in front of the moving staircase. Alex was running full pelt towards the stairs, he didn’t have time to change course and there was nowhere else to go. He saw the woman’s arms come up, levelling at him. Something in her hands!
He flung himself forward. His body flew over the pushchair, feet catching on the fabric and the metal frame and then he was over. He felt more than heard the faint rushing of air as the projectile fired by the woman fizzed passed barely missing him. A tranquilliser pellet, he guessed, then didn’t have time to guess much of anything else. His dive took him clear of the pushchair and out over the escalator, it’s steps folding away beneath him, he heard a wailing sound that he didn’t realise was his own and brought his arms up to cover his face, trying to fold his body into a ball to cushion the impact that was coming any second… now!
A roar of pain was torn from his lips as he hit the hard metal of the escalator. His body slamming into the side of the staircase and slapping heavily onto the steps. He groaned and tried to roll to his feet but had lost any sense of balance. A crashing, scraping sound filled his ears, drowning out the rush of blood through his veins and he looked up the stairs past his feet to see the pushchair bouncing and sliding down the escalator. It spun once, hitting eight steps above him, gambolled over and landed again, right side up, missing his feet by inches as he dragged his legs out of the way and tumbled down more steps. The rubber wheels of the push chair absorbed the force of the roll and the baby carriage lifted again, hitting the hand rail this time and falling over the edge onto the up staircase, sliding down with a screech of metal and a series of thumps.
The escalator delivered a battered Alex to the bottom of its run and he rolled onto his feet. Muscles screamed at him and his bones ached from his collision with the stairs. His elbows were skinned from the sliding impact and his shirt was torn, blood spotting the ragged tears in the material but he was basically unharmed. He saw shoppers cowering away from him with his peripheral vision, but paid no attention. Borkan and the woman were almost at the bottom of the escalator and he sprinted across the third floor landing, mirroring the direction Madeleine had taken one floor up. His mind filled in missing pieces as he ran. He had not seen Ricci in pursuit of him and knew with a sickening sense of terror that he had gone after Madeleine. The thought spurred him on and he increased his pace, not daring to look behind him to see how close his pursuers were. The chink of another pellet, striking a pillar to his left told him how close they were and he dinked to the left in an attempt to avoid the next shot.
The entrance to a book shop invited him in and he raced through the open doorway. No one stood behind tills or perused the book lined shelves, everyone by now had heard the commotion in the mall behind him or on the stairway within the shop. Most were now cowering behind display stands or in storerooms, others were peering cautiously through windows or around corners.
“Give it up, Alex,” he heard Borkan shout and was dismayed at how close the voice was, and how clear, no trace of the man being winded from the chase. He didn’t bother with a reply. He turned towards the stairs, intending to head down to the next floor and perhaps the exit back out into the mall. What he saw almost stopped him in his tracks, only pure instinct keeping his feet moving. He pivoted on the balls of his feet and bounded up the stairs, shouting as he went.
Ricci lashed out with his fist and felt the satisfaction of a clean connection with the woman’s left cheek. Her eyes glazed over, rolling up in her head and her body went limp. He caught her under the arms before she could fall to the ground.
“Got you, you bitch!” He growled at her. She was out like a light. He leant her against the wall and took a good look at her. Blood pounded in his veins and he felt the adrenaline rush of the chase and it’s inevitable end. He was going to enjoy himself with this one, later. The commotion outside was muted where he stood. He looked down the stairs. There were no shop assistants in evidence. It was madness, what he was about to do, but even so, he felt compelled. Perhaps it was the fact she was unconscious and totally helpless, or perhaps it was because she was with Alex and it would feel almost as good as hurting that little shit, and he might not get the chance to really do that, more’s the pity, or maybe he was just a sick son of a bitch. He didn’t know and frankly, didn’t care. He’d hurt her later, slowly and very painfully, when they were in a place they wouldn’t be disturbed, Shelton wouldn’t mind. Shelton understood about things like that and it would be no problem, but right now, he just wanted to violate her. It didn’t matter to him that she was out cold, perversely it made things even better. He didn’t have time to do anything elaborate anyway, he thought of it more as a dress rehearsal for the main event later on. He laughed silently to himself, more like an undress rehearsal.
He kept her propped against the wall with his left hand. His right came up and began to fondle her left breast, running his fingers over tight fabric of her T-shirt, feeling the lacy material of her bra. He cupped and squeezed her breast in his hand, first gently then with increasing force. Throughout it all, Madeleine remained slack jawed, blissfully unaware of her molestation.
Ricci dropped his hand to her crotch, squeezing at the softness between her legs, his palm rubbing hard at her centre, imagining a dampness there through the denim of her jeans. He felt himself stiffen as lurid images flickered in his brain like a cheap porn movie and he rubbed at her harder still as a drop of blood from her split lip dripped off her chin and splashed the back of his left hand.
Below him sounds of the hunt filtered through his imaginings. He heard the thud of feet on the floor below and the call of Borkan’s voice and he knew his pleasures would have to wait a while longer yet. The thunder of footsteps came closer and then he heard Alex screaming.
“Maddy!” He naturally shortened her name. Somewhere within him he remembered her telling him not to call her that but at that instant could not remember why. It didn’t seem important now. What was happening to her was. All thoughts of escape vanished in a time lapse far too short to be considered an instant and he was hurtling up the stairs, mind blanking out anything but what he could see before him.
Ricci turned towards him, one arm still holding Madeleine in place. The assassin flicked out his right leg, connecting with Alex’s thigh and numbness immediately spread from the point of impact. The kick was not enough to halt Alex’s forward motion and he barrelled into the other man, his arm catching him around the throat and dragging him away from Madeleine. Without the support of Ricci’s arm, she slumped to the floor. To her right, the two men tumbled across the landing, falling to the floor in a tangle of thrashing limbs. Ricci was a professional killer, skilled in several arts, defensive and offensive. Alex, it became apparent immediately, way out of his league. Ricci rolled him and their positions reversed. Landing on top of the killer had given Alex a split second advantage over his opponent but he suddenly found himself trapped under the weight of the other man. His leg was all but useless from the paralysing kick and it was all he could do to hold Ricci at bay.
Borkan came up the stairs behind them, gun drawn. The female Tech remained on the floor below. She flashed a wallet at one brave assistant who ventured from behind a heavily stacked counter. The ID was false but it was enough, with a few cursory words from the woman to turn him back to his position of safety.
Ricci released his grip long enough to punch Alex in the face. He twisted his head enough to deflect the blow from his nose but still felt the enormous force with which the blow hit his cheek. He lashed out with his own punch but he had no leverage and it landed ineffectively. He lifted his right leg, bringing his knee up towards Ricci’s crotch but the other man shifted his weight slightly and the knee missed its target. Ricci’s centre of balance was disturbed enough for Alex to buck him loose somewhat and he pushed again, using his right foot for extra power and they rolled again, their positions inverting.
Borkan’s gun wavered before his eyes, trying to get a bead on Alex. Their struggle made making the shot, even from close range, difficult. He considered shooting both of them, the gun was loaded with tranqs after all, but he couldn’t afford to take Ricci out. The whole affair had gone pear shaped very quickly and the only chance they had was to get Alex and the woman away from the mall as soon as possible. He couldn’t afford to have Ricci out for the count as well. He shoved the gun back into its holster. At his feet, Madeleine was stirring. She groaned and her eyes flickered open. Her vision was blurred and she blinked rapidly, eyes focusing on the man standing above her. The subdued grunts of Alex and Ricci embroiled in their struggle dragged her attention and she pushed herself up on her elbows, a shout emitting from her lips. Borkan turned to her and kicked out, his foot connecting with her side, stifling her shout before it was fully out of her mouth. The shout turned into a groan of pain and her arm folded under her. She gasped, clutching at the spot where his foot had left its mark.
“Be quiet and you won’t get hurt,” he hissed at her. He bent to look at her and she spat in his face, lashing out with her own feet, trying to topple him over. Borkan snapped his hand across her face igniting the memory of Ricci’s slap a few moments before and she fell back again, remaining conscious this time as her head hit the wall. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a needle, drawing off the protective cap he jabbed the wickedly sharp point into her shoulder. Darkness descended and Madeleine’s consciousness winked out before she could react to Borkan’s movements.
Alex’s victory was short lived. Ricci’s hands found his throat and began to squeeze applying pressure with fervour. He tried to break the man’s hold, hands reaching up to pry Ricci’s fingers loose, but they were stuck solid. His breath was trapped in his lungs and blood coloured his face. Ricci turned him again, pressing down on him now with all his weight. He lifted, rocking back and raising Alex’s head off the floor, then slammed it down, ignoring his feeble attempts to free the lock he had on his throat. All thoughts of taking Alex alive vaporised in his mind, there was only his blood lust and hatred for him. Borkan was shouting at him to let go, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not now. He squeezed again, watching Alex’s face darken with blood. Veins stood out on Alex’s forehead. He could see them throbbing, pulsing with the life he was slowly taking away. Each beat, each swelling of the veins was another second off Alex’s life.
He felt Borkan tugging on him, trying to lift him off Alex. He shook the man’s hands away, his grip on Alex’s throat lessening, allowing a fraction of air to pass through his windpipe. Borkan was beating on his arms now, distracting him. He could hear the other man’s words, but they came from afar, unimportant messages he could easily ignore. He lost himself in the moment, feeling him drain the life out of the little shit he had come to hate so much. He couldn’t even remember why he felt this way about him, but what did it matter. Alex stopped trying to free his hands from his throat. He flailed at Ricci’s face, but he was weak. His hands had no power in them, slapping against the sides of his face, Ricci ignored them.
Alex was weakening rapidly. The air cut off from his lungs, those two small sacks filled with one long breath he managed to drag into them and now his lungs were burning, the need to expel old air and draw in new reaching critical level. His hands made no impression on Ricci. He scratched at the backs of the killer’s hands, nails drawing blood, he beat at his arms. Borkan tried to help him, it was hard to believe but at least he wanted Alex alive. There was a slight lessening of pressure on his throat and he gratefully released a gasp of air, snatching a thin wisp of oxygen into his burning lungs before the pressure tightened again.
His vision darkened, he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. I’m sorry Maddy, he thought, the last conscious thought of his own as he brought his hands up to Ricci’s face, at first trying to claw at his throat, make him stop, then raising his hands to the sides of his face. His palms slapped at Ricci’s temples and remained there. All coherent thought was gone, all he had left was one final grasp at survival. He wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. His palms struck at the other man’s temples and stuck there like glue.
Through the darkening of his own vision, something stirred. As the last vestiges of light began to fade from his eyes, the familiar sepia tint of an encroaching vision dripped into his mind. Flashes of images coalesced into a confusion of turbid scenes that Alex recognised as Ricci’s thought processes. The shock of entering the man’s mind almost sent his weakening limbs slack and useless. He had never been able to read him before because of the serum. Before the shock could take hold, he was hit with the mental blows of the images he was seeing. Violent, crude scenes of death and murder. Blood coated dreams that he knew were not confined to the hollow walls of Ricci’s brain but had actually happened. It was he who was the perpetrator of the vicious attack that left Madeleine dead, slaughtered and butchered in the vilest imaginable way, that he had been privy to through the curse of his prescient ability. His gorge rose at the sickness he was seeing and his body struggled to hold it back while clinging onto consciousness and life with every last vestige of his resources.
A tremor ran through Ricci’s body at a sudden jolting image and his hands loosened around Alex’s neck. Alex gratefully dragged air into his lungs with a wheezing, ragged whine, his body working automatically while his mind grappled with that of the killer’s. Ricci could sense his thoughts in his brain. The shock caused his grip to weaken on Alex’s throat. Alex’s mind locked tight to Ricci’s as his hands were still clamped to the man’s head. He was unable to let go, messages sent from the frontal lobes of his brain, firing instructions to the nerves that worked the muscles of his arms, being sent back undelivered, marked “return to sender”. If anything, the pressure of his hands increased on the sides of Ricci’s head. Squeezing, crushing inwards as the images of each other’s brains were chased around dark chambers, colliding and exploding like fireworks and each explosion generating a heat felt by both men. The madness of the visions that polluted Alex’s brain increased as the speed with which the vistas were displayed stepped up several gears. The mirages blurred into a kaleidoscope of bright flashes and Ricci began to howl in pain, his own hands now clutching at Alex’s palms, trying desperately to free them from his head.
A wail of torment rose out of his lungs ululating across the landing, sending a shiver down Borkan’s spine as he stepped back from the interlocked figures, unable to pry Ricci away from Alex but seeing now that it was the other way around. The sound of Ricci’s cry slipped down the stairs reaching the female Tech on the floor below who was co-ordinating through her microphone with the remaining Techs assigned to the operation. A chill ran cold hands down her back.
“Make it stop! Oh, Jesus, make it stop,” Ricci croaked. Gone was the arrogant, vicious murderer, in his place a whining, helpless victim of Alex’s expanding powers. Borkan watched Alex roll Ricci off him, his hands still firmly planted against the other man’s head, until he straddled his chest. Alex’s eyes were partly closed, but Borkan did not believe he was seeing anything at all, at least nothing anyone else could see. There was a dark ring of bruising around his throat and his face was still crimson from the rush of blood but his face had relaxed, lines of tension disappearing from his brow, lips smoothing from a snarl, setting into a firm line. He was perfectly silent, lost somewhere within himself. And beneath him, Ricci whimpered like a baby.
And then Borkan saw something that would live with him the rest of his life. Nothing he had ever seen or believed in, nothing he had ever read, prepared him for what happened next.
Steam—or was it smoke?—seemed to boil up from Alex’s fingers. More precisely, from where Alex’s fingers touched Ricci’s flesh and hair. There was a faint scent in the air, like pork roasting in an oven, but fainter and the crisp odour of hair beginning to smoulder. The smells began to pervade his nostrils. He took a step towards the two men and was stopped short by what he saw, frozen into place.
Ricci’s eyes opened wide in shock, his eyeballs bulging outwards as if from the pressure Alex was exerting on his head, but it looked to Borkan that Alex was barely touching the man. Tears coated Ricci’s eyes and as he watched, Borkan saw the glassy sheen of wetness begin to dry up, evaporate. Ricci’s eyeballs seemed to dry out, to diminish in size until it looked like they were too small for the sockets that until now had seemed to be a perfect fit. His whimpers of pain became a low, guttural croak before ceasing altogether, and Borkan saw the fading light of life glimmer and blink out in the shrinking, melting, his rational mind that was no longer really rational insisted, eyes. A whisper of steam/smoke trailed up from Ricci’s dead, staring, left eye.
Alex came out of his seeming trance. Blinking hard he stared at the dead man beneath him. A look of confusion crossed his face and he pulled his hands away from Ricci’s head. He sniffed in a lungful of air, catching a trace of the burnt smell and he coughed, the rush of air hurting his sore throat. With the coughing fit, the dazed sensation left him. He looked around, seeing Madeleine’s unconscious form and Borkan standing over him. He tried to speak, the words snagging on the rough edges of his throat. He coughed once more and managed, “What happened?”
Borkan blinked at him, slid his hand inside his jacket and withdrew his gun, firing point blank into Alex’s chest.