Free Dr. Knox by Peter Spiegelman Page A

key between my middle two fingers and made a fist.
    “What do you want?” I asked again.
    “You know what we want, doc—we want same as you. We want to know where is she.”
    “Where who is?”
    Tats spit, then muttered what sounded like a curse. Cornrows’ sigh was weary and disappointed. He said something to Tats, who went to the Rover and pulled an aluminum bat from the rear seat. He came toward me.
    I took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. I looked at Tats’ neck, at his trachea and suprasternal notch. I tightened my grip on the keys.
    Cornrows shook his head. “She something to you, doc, you’re gonna take a beating for her?”
    “I don’t know who
she
is. And, by the way, you’re making no sense. If I’m supposed to be looking for her—whoever she is—then why do you think I know where she is?”
    That stopped Cornrows for a moment, but Tats seemed not to hear, or to care. He took another step toward me and slapped the bat head in his palm. “You going to bullshit around, or you going to say why you want her?” His voice was like rocks in a bucket.
    I shrugged. “She came in here.”
    “And she is what to you, huh? Your
bliad
?”
    Cornrows smirked. “Means ‘whore,’ doc. He wants to know if Elena’s your whore. Which would be a problem, right? Only one boss at a time.”
    Elena. I smiled.
    Tats didn’t know what to make of this, so he smiled too. It was not a pretty thing. His teeth were gray and oddly shaped, and many were missing. “You are doctor,” he said. “You also woman? In my country, most doctors are woman.”
    “And most of the assholes are men,” I said. This he understood. His face darkened and he brought the bat back. “I hear you’re offering money,” I said, and Tats paused again.
    Cornrows smiled, like he’d run into an old friend. “Yeah? Well, you heard it right, doc. You got info, we got cash.”
    “How much?”
    “Depends on what you got. Could be decent, though. Maybe couple of grand.”
    “That’s not enough.”
    “Could be more—depends.”
    “Could be ten?”
    Cornrows smiled wider. “Shit, doc, for ten you bring her gift-wrapped to my boss.”
    “Tell me who he is and where to find him, and I’ll see what I can do.”
    He chuckled. “So ten’s not really your number, yeah? You continue fucking with me.”
    I fought to control my breathing, and shrugged. “It’s just how I am.”
    “You got balls, doc,” Cornrows said, “for another couple seconds anyway.” Then he nodded at Tats, who came on again.
    I pointed up and behind him. “You guys realize you’re on camera, right?”
    They both turned and looked at the security camera, mounted high up on the wall and looking down on the back door. Cornrows said something in Russian, and Tats nodded and jumped onto the hood of the Rover, and then to its roof. He was quicker and more agile than I would’ve guessed. He swung the bat one-handed, and there was a loud metallic chime, and the camera and its metal housing came off the building. They bounced off the Dumpster with a hollow clang. Tats leapt from the Rover’s roof and landed in a crouch by the front fender.
    “Thanks, doc,” Cornrows said, smiling. “You save us a pain in the ass.” Tats smiled too, and came toward me again.
    “Yeah, you saved me some trouble too,” a voice called from behind them. “Now I can shoot you douche bags and not worry about it showing up on YouTube.” Cornrows and Tats whirled as Sutter stepped into the cone of the sodium lights, and they froze when they saw his gun.
    He held the Sig in a two-handed grip in front of him, and he sighted down the barrel as it swung in an easy arc between the Russians. Tats said something in Russian, in which
mudak
and
pizda
figured prominently. Sutter laughed and said something Russian in response. Cornrows and Tats were surprised and unhappy.
    “You want to clear the line of fire, doc?” Sutter said, and jerked his head.
    My thighs were like lead, and my chest