Quiller Balalaika by Adam Hall

Author:Adam Hall [Hall, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780786712656
Google: t_wJ6FutoYAC
Amazon: 0786712651
Publisher: Carroll & Graf
Published: 1995-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Page 80

I could hear the guard’s breath, feel his aura. Kaido. Would he be at my head or my feet when they buried me? He was my brother, on the premise that all men are brothers, a premise difficult, God knows, to keep one’s faith in when the chips are down. If - moving, Vishinsky, shifting in his chair -

I spun the chamber, put the gun to my temple and fired.

Click.

Silence crashed in.

He was still there, watching me, the Cougar. Or had it happened, was this illusion, the continuum across the brink of death, the leap into the new reality?

How do you know, when it comes?

Two more.

I could feel the adrenalin coursing through the blood, hot with purpose, the muscles burning for release into action, the choices teeming in the mind - open the chamber and line the thing up and shoot Vishinsky, take on three athletic toughs in mortal combat? Let us be practical, my good friend. Make him a final offer, then, ten million US dollars for this wretched ferret in the field, would London pay that much if I could swing the deal? It might, but this man wouldn’t go for it, all he wants now is his climax, he’s far beyond rational reach. Fling this gun away and go down in a sordid bar-room brawl, take one of them with me if I can as a sop to pride? Surely we can do better than that.

‘Spin the chamber.’ His voice coming from a long way off.

The light in here seemed brighter now, with the senses finely attuned to offer the organism every shred of data available that might help it survive: the light and the sound of the guard’s breathing, the smell of his sweat, of mine, the pressure of the wall behind me, the sourness in the mouth.

I spun the thing and put the muzzle to my head and squeezed.

Click.

The room rocked, steadied.

One. One more.

Think. Consider the choices again. Reflect.

There’s no point. The choices are his, not mine. If I try anything at this stage he’ll lose the last of his control, order them to beat me to the point of death or take me to the guillotine for him to play with before the climax, then bring a body bag and remember the fingers, don’t leave them lying there, throw them in and don’t stain the carpet whatever you do.

One. One more. But when -

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