Extinction Machine by Jonathan Maberry

your cars and I’ll get into mine. You’re going to move your cars so I can get around you. Are we understanding each other here?”
    Beaky Nose looked at the Italian, then over to the Scarecrow and Baldy. Then he looked at me again. There was no flicker of expression on his face. He did not repeat his favorite catchphrase. He did not, in fact, say a goddamn word.
    Instead he went for his gun.
    Up till that moment I’d hoped that this encounter wasn’t as weird and threatening as it seemed. And, up till that moment Beaky Nose had a chance of ending the day without severe physical discomfort.
    That moment passed.
    I kicked Beaky Nose in the nuts with the tip of my shoe. Very, very hard. I have big feet and my shoes have steel toes. This is never good news for the sorry son of a bitch whose balls get in the way of my rage issues.
    He screamed loud enough to crack glass.
    “Ghost— hit !” He launched himself out of the car like a snarling white torpedo as Scarecrow moved in on me. They went down hard and messy.
    I slammed the half-open car door into the Italian, jolting him to a sudden stop, I whipped the door shut and jumped at him with a short-range front kick, crunching the flat of my foot onto the front of his thigh. It knocked his leg way too straight and way too hard and the leverage bent him in half and sat him forcefully down on his ass. Even as his tailbone tried to drill a hole in the asphalt, I pivoted my hips, cocked my leg and gave him a flat-of-the-heel side thrust right above the eyebrows. I’m pretty sure he was in happy land before the back of his head hit the blacktop.
    Then I whirled to see the bald guy caught in a moment of indecision—help Scarecrow or go for me. He spun and went for the dog. Wrong choice. I reached him in two fast strides, grabbed his collar and jerked him backward off his feet. His gun went flying straight up into the air. I twisted my hip and dropped into a crouch, using the torque and downward weight shift to slam Baldy’s back against the ground with a meaty thud. Air burst from his open mouth, and before he could take the next breath I leaned over and drove a two-knuckle punch into his solar plexus. He made a strangled screech and lay there, gasping and twitching like a gaffed marlin.
    “Off!” I called, and Ghost released Scarecrow’s bleeding arm. Ghost’s metal teeth had done impressive damage. The man screamed in pain. I knotted my fingers in Scarecrow’s hair, half lifted him and used my other hand to punch him in the face twice, breaking nose and mashing lips. He went out like a light and I let him drop.
    I spun, crouched, ready for more.
    But there was no more.
    The Italian and Scarecrow were out; Baldy was trying to figure out that whole breathing thing, and it was going to take him a while to remember the rules. That left Beaky Nose, who was curled into a fetal ball. As I approached him he tried to wriggle away, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. I felt something give when I’d kicked him. Probably his pelvis.
    I’m a nice guy most of the time.
    I’m a really nice guy some of the time. Last night at Rudy’s bachelor party I was everybody’s pal.
    When it comes to ambushes, however, I find it hard to be affable.

 
    Chapter Twenty-two
    VanMeer Castle
Near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Sunday, October 20, 6:26 a.m.
    Once the call was ended, Mr. Bones closed the Ghost Box and turned to Howard Shelton. The old man was leaning heavily on the desk, head low, eyes staring fixedly into the wood grain. His color was bad and he was sweating.
    “This is scary as hell,” said Mr. Bones.
    Howard merely grunted.
    “I mean,” continued Bones, “on one hand we should be happy that she’s still clueless about the cyber-attacks and—”
    “Fuck the cyber-attacks,” snarled Howard. “We’ve got that safeguarded seven ways from Sunday. What about this thing in D.C.? What the hell is happening?”
    “It’s definitely not the Chinese.”
    Howard’s lip