Angels Don't Die (Madeleine Toche Series Book 2) by Soren Petrek Page B
Authors: Soren Petrek
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the bedrooms nearest the kitchen and the single toilet the home contained.
She saw a man enter the bathroom, flick on a weak light bulb inside and begin to urinate. She moved silently towards the bathroom, keeping herself flat against the wall. She slipped the pistol into the elastic band of her pants and pulled a knife out from under her shirt. Its blade was made both for stabbing and slashing. She chose the latter. As the man exited the toilet, she slid up behind him. She pulled his head to the left with her free hand and simultaneously slashed his throat with the other. The attack ripped open his windpipe and larynx, leaving him unable to cry out. Without wasted movement, Madeleine thrust the knife into his ear and brain. He died quickly, with little struggle, as she held him upright and then slowly lowered him to the ground. She wiped the knife on the man’s shirt and placed it back in its sheath. She reached for the pistol in her waistband, as she moved towards the second of three bedrooms on the main floor. Her decision to use the knife was to avoid the sound of a falling body. Once, long ago, she had almost been caught when a target had fallen heavily to the floor. Silence and the night had always been her allies. She had learned from every mistake she’d ever made.
Madeleine slipped down the hall to the last bedroom. It was larger than the ones upstairs, with two men sleeping at opposite ends of the room. As she entered, one of the sleepers rolled over and mumbled something in his sleep. Madeleine froze, standing motionless in the shadows by the door, then in one fluid movement she shot the man who had moved, whipped the gun around, and shot the last sleeper. Madeleine stepped out of the room, and moved into the shadows of the kitchen. She patiently waited, watching the street through a closed window in the event there were any late arrivals. She doubted there would be, but caution demanded it.
Satisfied that all was quiet, Madeleine checked her watch and made her way back up the stairs and down the hall to the open window. Her escape route was already mapped out in her mind and she was reassured that the way was unblocked. Satisfied, she closed the window, leaving only a crack wide enough to slide her fingers into in the event she needed to open it in a hurry.
Madeleine moved back down the hall and into Al Massri’s bedroom. He was still unconscious and would be for hours unless he was given a second ampoule that would counteract the first drug and bring him around. She knew that the second drug took about two minutes to work, so she ran a sturdy piece of duct tape over the man’s mouth to avoid any sudden yelling when he woke up. Prior to administering the antidote, she rechecked his bonds carefully two times. She turned on the penlight and put it on the side table next to the bed to keep her hands free.
Madeleine pulled a desk chair up to the side of the bed. Leaning forward, she plunged the second needle into the man’s neck and waited. The drugs took effect and Al Massri shifted in his bed. His eyes opened and he tried to focus, first on the source of the light shining in his face and then on Madeleine. His initial reaction was to try to scream through the tape covering his mouth.
“Silence,” Madeleine whispered, firing a silenced shot into the pillow beneath Al Massri’s head. A cloud of feathers erupted where the shot entered and she could see that he had felt the shock wave of the small caliber bullet as it passed inches from his face.
“Do I have your attention?” Madeleine said, in a conversational tone. Her voice was low but she no longer whispered. He needed to understand her questions and intentions if he did not comply with her requests. Al Massri nodded, his eyes wild with hate. “Good. So that you and I understand one another, all of the men in the house are dead. I killed them and
She saw a man enter the bathroom, flick on a weak light bulb inside and begin to urinate. She moved silently towards the bathroom, keeping herself flat against the wall. She slipped the pistol into the elastic band of her pants and pulled a knife out from under her shirt. Its blade was made both for stabbing and slashing. She chose the latter. As the man exited the toilet, she slid up behind him. She pulled his head to the left with her free hand and simultaneously slashed his throat with the other. The attack ripped open his windpipe and larynx, leaving him unable to cry out. Without wasted movement, Madeleine thrust the knife into his ear and brain. He died quickly, with little struggle, as she held him upright and then slowly lowered him to the ground. She wiped the knife on the man’s shirt and placed it back in its sheath. She reached for the pistol in her waistband, as she moved towards the second of three bedrooms on the main floor. Her decision to use the knife was to avoid the sound of a falling body. Once, long ago, she had almost been caught when a target had fallen heavily to the floor. Silence and the night had always been her allies. She had learned from every mistake she’d ever made.
Madeleine slipped down the hall to the last bedroom. It was larger than the ones upstairs, with two men sleeping at opposite ends of the room. As she entered, one of the sleepers rolled over and mumbled something in his sleep. Madeleine froze, standing motionless in the shadows by the door, then in one fluid movement she shot the man who had moved, whipped the gun around, and shot the last sleeper. Madeleine stepped out of the room, and moved into the shadows of the kitchen. She patiently waited, watching the street through a closed window in the event there were any late arrivals. She doubted there would be, but caution demanded it.
Satisfied that all was quiet, Madeleine checked her watch and made her way back up the stairs and down the hall to the open window. Her escape route was already mapped out in her mind and she was reassured that the way was unblocked. Satisfied, she closed the window, leaving only a crack wide enough to slide her fingers into in the event she needed to open it in a hurry.
Madeleine moved back down the hall and into Al Massri’s bedroom. He was still unconscious and would be for hours unless he was given a second ampoule that would counteract the first drug and bring him around. She knew that the second drug took about two minutes to work, so she ran a sturdy piece of duct tape over the man’s mouth to avoid any sudden yelling when he woke up. Prior to administering the antidote, she rechecked his bonds carefully two times. She turned on the penlight and put it on the side table next to the bed to keep her hands free.
Madeleine pulled a desk chair up to the side of the bed. Leaning forward, she plunged the second needle into the man’s neck and waited. The drugs took effect and Al Massri shifted in his bed. His eyes opened and he tried to focus, first on the source of the light shining in his face and then on Madeleine. His initial reaction was to try to scream through the tape covering his mouth.
“Silence,” Madeleine whispered, firing a silenced shot into the pillow beneath Al Massri’s head. A cloud of feathers erupted where the shot entered and she could see that he had felt the shock wave of the small caliber bullet as it passed inches from his face.
“Do I have your attention?” Madeleine said, in a conversational tone. Her voice was low but she no longer whispered. He needed to understand her questions and intentions if he did not comply with her requests. Al Massri nodded, his eyes wild with hate. “Good. So that you and I understand one another, all of the men in the house are dead. I killed them and
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