The Business of Death: A Vigilante Thriller That Will Keep You Guessing Until the Last Shot (The Nick Hunter Vigilante Thriller Series Book 1) by Dean Carson

Author:Dean Carson [Carson, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vinci Books
Published: 2025-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

The funny thing about being a man of action is that it takes so long. Time to move? I waited at the top of the stairs for a full five minutes to make sure that she settled and wasn’t suddenly about to go to the kitchen for another sandwich. Then I snuck down the stairs and waited for another few moments, listening, outside the door.

She hadn’t slammed it. It was half open, but opened inward, so it concealed some of the room. I could see the television screen flickering and she hadn’t bothered to switch on a light. The noise from the television made listening a bit of a redundant exercise and the angle of the door made casing the room impossible. So, I was standing there, putting off the inevitable. And the longer I stood the more likely it was that the parents would come home, which would really screw my plans. I reached into my pocket and took out the one bit of help La Donna had given me. No weapon, but a tiny aerosol spray, the type people use to spray scented water on their faces during hot spells. It was a small plastic container that fitted neatly into my fist with a tiny nozzle on the end. I don’t know exactly what it was filled with, but some form of chloroform or ether was my guess. One spray, she had said, and the girl would pass out and remain firmly unconscious for at least five minutes.

Of course, the plan had been to sneak up on her in her bedroom in the deep of night and spray her without alerting her. The problem with spraying strange substances into the faces of victims is that many victims show a terrible reluctance to breath in those miasmic mists. It would be easier if she didn’t see it coming. But there was no help for it.

I tried to figure out reflections from the television screen, which was difficult with the kaleidoscope of images the pop videos were throwing up. But between songs the screen went dark for a fleeting second and I could see enough to tell me my target was on one of the two armchairs. She might be asleep, or she might be reclining after a difficult day being a moody teen.

I stepped through the door.

She was slumped, her legs stretched out straight, her back rounded, her head staring at the screen, eyes closed. She was a good-looking girl of about seventeen, with long dark hair but a pout on her face that suggested she gave her parents ulcers. On her lap was a plate with an uneaten sandwich, and balanced precariously on the arm of the chair was a full mug of coffee. I had caught a break; she was asleep. But I was taking no chances. I sprayed the mist directly into her face. She stirred slightly, then sighed and seemed to settle even more into the comfortable chair. I sprayed her twice more to make sure.

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