Free Sinner by Ted Dekker Page A

securing Billy, he slapped him, hard. Billy groaned and struggled into a sitting position next to her on the floor.
    Smith spun his pistol in his fingers and then shoved it into his belt. “That’s better.”He withdrew earplugs from both ears with his free hand and paced before them.
    â€œLike two peas in the pod. Darcy and Billy. Rome is going to be pleased. Absolutely ecstatic. Two at one time? I’m outdoing myself, and that . . . that is hard to do. Now let’s start from the top, shall we?
    â€œThe last two, thirty-five and thirty-six in the same shot. Two birds, one stone. You’re going to tell what you know. Who else knows.”
    â€œYou can tell Muness that my promise still stands,” Billy said. “I’m going to burn him.”
    â€œMuness doesn’t concern me,” Smith said. “You think that your being here is a stroke of fortune, boy?” He chuckled. “What’s the matter? You don’t know what I’m thinking? Really?”His lips flattened.“Then let me tell you what: I’m thinking that your days of traipsing through the daisies are over. For both of you.You can help us by telling me what you know about Johnny Drake and Samuel Abraham, or you can lose your fingers and toes, tongues and eyes, eventually your lives. That’s what I’m thinking.”
    Darcy’s first thought was a simple one. Do it, Billy! We’ll do it! Make something up if you have to.
    But one look at Billy’s twisted face and she doubted he was on the same page. And neither was she, not really. She might be panicked now, predisposed by her nightmares to turn against anyone who had anything to do with Paradise; but in truth, she couldn’t betray another human to this beast.
    â€œGo to hell,” Billy said.
    â€œI see we’re not making progress here. Let me help.” Smith knelt beside him, grabbed his hands behind his back, and reached around with a cigar cutter he’d withdrawn from his pocket.
    Clink . . .
    Billy started to scream. Blood squirted from his finger, now missing just the very tip.
    â€œShut up !”
    Billy clamped his mouth shut and shook. Sweat vibrated from his forehead.
    The man from the Vatican stepped over him, grabbed Darcy’s foot, and clamped it under his arm. She felt his fingers spreading her toes and she cried out in horror. The tape muffled her voice. She kicked out.
    Phffft! Phffft!
    Agent Smith’s head snapped back. His glasses exploded into shards of crimson glass. He dropped the cigar cutter and collapsed with one lip twitching and one finger squeezing a trigger that wasn’t there anymore.
    After a moment, he didn’t move at all.
    â€œBilly Rediger and Darcy Lange?”
    The man who’d killed Smith had appeared in similar fashion to Billy’s entrance. With one exception.
    He held a gun and he held it like he knew how to use it. And he, like Smith, wore dark glasses.
    â€œYes,” Billy panted.
    â€œAre there any more of them?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThank goodness I made it in time.”

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    CHAPTER NINE
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    BILLY SAT next to Darcy, nursing his bandaged finger. The man who saved them had cut them both free and suggested that Darcy tend to Billy’s hand.When they emerged from the bathroom, the man had already hauled Smith’s body into the garage.
    He stood in front of them, sunglasses fixed in place, hands on hips like a platoon sergeant looking at two new recruits.
    â€œOkay . . .” Darcy glanced from one to the other. “Will someone please tell me what’s happening here?”
    â€œMore than meets the eyes,” the man said. He removed one hand from his hip and tapped his chest. “My name is Brian Kinnard. A good guy, okay? The man I killed?” He jabbed at the garage doorway behind him. “Definitely a very bad guy.”
    â€œAnd what would that make us?” Billy asked.
    â€œYou two are the prize. Everyone wants