‘It was a good plan, Amir,’ said Connor as the three of them were surrounded by Mr Grey and the four guards. He offered his friend a conciliatory smile. ‘Just a shame it didn’t work.’
‘The drone was supposed to be our insurance policy,’ Amir replied with a deflated look.
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I thought your bluff was pretty impressive,’ said Charley, reversing her chair until she was back to back with Connor and Amir. As the guards closed in on them, she took Connor’s hand and squeezed it tight. ‘If we’re to die, Connor,’ she whispered, ‘at least we’re together.’
Connor clasped her hand even tighter. ‘And always will be.’
‘Ahhh, young love,’ said Mr Grey in a sickly-sweet tone. His upper lip curled in disdain. ‘Only leads to heartbreak.’ In one swift and sudden action the assassin drew his gun.
‘No!’ cried Connor, but was too late to stop him pulling the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the Sky Walk, loud as thunder. On instinct Connor threw himself across Charley. But Mr Grey hadn’t been aiming at her. The bullet pierced a side window instead and obliterated the drone. Its rotors shattered, the drone spiralled out of control and dropped from the sky like a dead bird.
‘I don’t like an audience,’ said Mr Grey as the wind whistled through the hole in the window, cracks fanning out like a spider’s web in the glass. He eyed Connor sprawled across Charley. ‘How valiant of you to want to protect your sweetheart. Unfortunately, no human shield will save her … or Amir … or you.’
The assassin planted the cold hard tip of the barrel against Connor’s forehead, forcing him to stand. Connor glared at the ashen-faced assassin – the killer who’d murdered Colonel Black, tortured Charley and been the bane of his existence ever since he’d joined Buddyguard. Mr Grey had haunted his missions, at first at the fringes, then circling ever closer like some flesh-eating vulture. Looking into his glacial eyes, Connor could see no trace of humanity. Only darkness. There would be no point in pleading or appealing to this man’s better nature. For he had none. He was the devil incarnate.
Mr Grey barked an order in Chinese at the guards. Two of them now drew their handguns and fixed their sights on Charley and Amir.
‘I had wanted to extract my pound of flesh from you, Connor,’ said Mr Grey. ‘Repay you for shooting me in Russia. But you’ve become somewhat tiresome. So a simple execution will suffice.’
Mr Grey smiled. ‘I expect I will.’ He glanced round at the heady view, the city lights glimmering below like jewels in a mine. ‘At least dying this high up, you’re part way to heaven.’ He cocked his gun. ‘Any last requests?’
‘Yes!’ Amir begged, clasping his hands together in supplication. ‘Allow us a final prayer.’
Mr Grey rolled his eyes, then sighed. ‘If you must.’
Amir turned to face Connor and Charley. They formed a tight circle, a final bond of friendship, amid the ring of Equilibrium guards. ‘Bow your heads and close your eyes,’ said Amir softly.
Connor did as his friend asked, putting his hands together in prayer. He hadn’t taken Amir to be the religious type, but in these last moments of life he could understand anyone wanting spiritual comfort.
‘Almighty Lord, hear our prayers …’ began Amir, then added in a whisper that was barely a breath. ‘Cover your ears!’
Connor and Charley had but a second to do so before the doors to the nearest lift pinged open and a black tube rolled out on to the Sky Walk. The guards were given no time to react, the stun grenade detonating only a few metres from them. The flash was like a blinding supernova in the night, visible even from the Bund over one and a half kilometres away. The ear-splitting bang reverberated through the enclosed corridor of the Sky Walk, amplifying its effects so that even Connor’s covered ears rang. This was followed by a blast wave that almost knocked everyone off their feet, and Connor was left momentarily stunned as if he’d been punched in the face.
The guards reeled from the unexpected attack, staggering around like drunks, their senses blown. Charley was the first to recover and react. She yanked her chair’s armrests free and smashed the gun out of the nearest guard’s grip. Hooking his ankle, she then swept him off balance and struck him in the chest as he fell. The guard hit the floor, cracking his skull on the glass and knocking himself out cold.
Next Amir thrust his iStun into the side of the other armed guard. Already disorientated and dazed, the man convulsed, dropped his weapon and slumped to the ground.
Charley and Amir then turned to the other two guards. Blinking like moles in the light, their sight blurred, the men drew extendable batons to fend off the advancing teenage bodyguards. They swiped wildly, Amir ducking then thrusting with his iStun while Charley blocked the attacks, her metal armrests clanging with each deflection.
Of all the Equilibrium agents, Mr Grey appeared least affected by the stun grenade. With reactions as quick as a snake’s, he’d shielded his eyes and after a few seconds shrugged off the disabling effects of the blast. Discovering the guards in disarray and in retreat, he raised his gun to shoot Amir in the back.
But Connor leapt on him, grabbing his arm and wrestling for control of the weapon. Surprise working to his advantage, Connor managed to force the gun down. But Mr Grey’s finger was still on the trigger and the gun kicked, letting off a shot. The bullet barely missed Connor’s right thigh before drilling a hole through the glazed pane at his feet. Fractures spidered out like veins in the glass.
Mr Grey glared at Connor. ‘I hate wasting bullets!’
As the two of them battled over the weapon, Connor heard his combat instructor’s voice in his head, urging him from the grave to Seize, Strike and Subdue! Connor tried to summon up his qi to punch the assassin, but it took all his strength and concentration just to keep hold of the weapon. He managed to get in a couple of elbow strikes. But Mr Grey was like hardened steel, every strike failing to leave even a dent in him. Despite Connor’s furious determination, the assassin’s gun hand slowly yet steadily rose up again. This time the barrel’s sights fixed on Charley as she fought off her guard.
Mr Grey leered at Connor. ‘Do you want to pull the trigger? Or shall I?’
Connor roared in rage and redoubled his efforts to overcome the assassin. However, Mr Grey, skilled in weapon retention, defeated any attempts to rip the gun from his grasp. Connor made a last-ditch attempt, wrenching hard on his arm –
There was a deafening bang as the weapon went off. The round struck Charley dead centre in the back. Connor watched in horror as she bucked from the impact. The guard took advantage of her pain and hit her across the shoulder with his baton. Charley cried out and almost dropped her tonfa-armrest. But she hadn’t been mortally wounded by the bullet, her wheelchair’s Kevlar panel having protected her from the round. But she was weakened by the two blows and was now in retreat from the guard.
‘Looks like we need a head shot,’ said Mr Grey as he realigned the weapon’s sights.
Connor knew it was only a matter of time before the man hit his mark. Risking everything, he let go of the gun. Even Mr Grey was taken aback at this tactic. And in that split-second moment of distraction Connor drove his fingertips like a dagger into the assassin’s chest, targeting the exact point between the pectoral muscles that Lăolao had shown him.
The Demon Gate.
It couldn’t be a more appropriately named qi point for the assassin. The sudden and debilitating shock of the strike sent Mr Grey lurching backwards. All strength draining from him, the gun grew super-heavy in his hands and he sank to his knees.
‘What … have … you … done to me?’ he gasped, his eyes bulging.
Connor grinned. ‘Oh, it’s just a little trick I learnt from an old grandmother. Effective, isn’t –’
But Connor didn’t get to finish his sentence. The glass pane beneath his feet suddenly disintegrated and he dropped like a stone through the Sky Walk.