Page 101 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner

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What the crowd did not see was one of the men from the accompanying cars

loitering in the apartment until the ambulance rescue squad people had left. He
went rapidly back into the bedroom and, using pillows and blankets from one
of the closets and a wig he had brought for the purpose, constructed the outline
of a body asleep in the bed. He was the last man out.
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An hour later, as Chi-Chi and Bond were walking to the AA departure gate,
a car drew up across the street from the apartment block. The driver stayed
where he was and his passenger, a greying, respectable-looking man wearing a
long raincoat over his suit, walked over to the building. He did not spend time

calling the superintendent, but inserted a pick-lock into the door, and had it
open in thirty seconds.
He carefully closed it behind him, then quietly went up the stairs to 4B,
where the door yielded to his expertise in less time than the one downstairs.
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He wore gloves and opened up quietly, reaching under his raincoat to reveal a
wicked-looking Skorpion machine-pistol, fitted with a noise suppression unit.
Slowly he crossed to the master bedroom, opened the door and fired four
short bursts of 9mm rounds into the ‘body’ with a sound like a small child idly

running an old glove along a row of railings.
He did not wait to look at his work. He had been told to kill quickly and
efficiently and get away without being detected. Within minutes he was
crossing the road to the anonymous car which drove away with great care.

Neither the driver nor his murderous passenger even noticed the battered
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Buick that had seen better days pull out and follow them about two cars back in
the traffic.

They had almost made it to the gate and Chi-Chi was just wondering aloud if

the movie would be any good, when the two men came up on either side of
them. The one next to Bond had Oriental looks, and was a very large man, the
one who began to keep pace with Chi-Chi was shorter and Caucasian.
‘Just keep walking past the gate, Mr Abelard,’ the big one said.
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‘And please don’t make a fuss, this is for your security.’ The smaller man’s
accent could have passed for British.
‘My name is Ding,’ the large one continued without breaking his stride. ‘My
friends call me Bone Bender Ding. My partner, here, beside the lovely lady is

called Fox, but he answers to other, less salubrious names. Mr Lee felt it safer
to send his private jet down for you both. That will make certain that nobody’s

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