Chaos Theory by Graham Masterton Page B

shouted, and he actually stamped his foot.
    He was so agitated that he didn’t hear Rick emerging from the bushes – or if he did, he didn’t realize what it was. That rustling of leaves, that crackling of roots; that could have been the rain, after all. But Adeola watched in fascination as Rick crept right up behind him, close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder, if he had wanted to.
    There was a long moment when time seemed to stand still. Adeola felt that even the raindrops were suspended in mid-air. Only the crows continued to squabble, on the other side of the slow-moving river.
    Rick whipped a garrotte around the would-be assassin’s neck, so fast that Adeola barely saw him do it, and twisted it, hard. The young man’s eyes bulged, and he dropped his rifle and reached up to his throat with both hands. But Rick had twisted the garrotte so fiercely that he wasn’t even able to exhale.
    The young man kicked, and struggled, and clawed at his neck, but Rick stayed firm, never easing the pressure once. For over thirty seconds there was no sound except for the kicking of the young man’s heels amongst the leaves. But then his knees gave way, and his arms dropped to his sides. Rick was able to release the garrotte and let him fall sideways on to the ground. He gave an odd, petulant whine as his last breath was finally allowed to escape from his lungs.
    Rick thrust the garrotte into his pocket and came over to help Adeola up.
    ‘My God,’ she exclaimed. ‘You killed him! I can’t believe it. But thank you.’
    ‘Didn’t have much of a choice,’ said Rick.
    ‘Of course not. Of course you didn’t. Look at me, I’m shaking like a leaf.’
    Rick took off his coat and hung it over her shoulders. ‘Come on, we need to get you out of here. I bet all hell’s broken loose, back at the hotel.’
    ‘Nesta, and Charlie . . . It’s terrible. I hope Jimmy and Miko are OK.’
    Rick bent over the young man’s body. ‘I wonder who the hell he is, and why he wanted to kill you.’
    In the distance, Adeola could hear police sirens. ‘We should just leave him here. I can square this with the Gardai, I’m sure.’
    But Rick was deftly rifling through the young man’s pockets. ‘No papers. No passport. No driver’s license. No wallet. Three clips of ammunition and four or five hundred euros, but that’s all.’
    ‘Come on, Rick. Let’s go. I’m really not feeling so good.’
    ‘Hey, you’re in shock. It’s understandable.’
    He pulled open the buttons of the young man’s combat shirt. He reached inside and lifted out a heavy silver medallion.
    ‘Leave him,’ said Adeola. ‘Let’s go.’
    But Rick unfastened the medallion’s chain and held it up. ‘Where have you seen one of these before?’
    ‘What? I don’t understand.’
    ‘A medallion like this, with these markings on it. That guy who tried to blow us up in Dubai, he was wearing one.’
    ‘I never saw it.’
    ‘His picture was in Time magazine. I showed it to you but maybe you didn’t really take it in.’
    ‘Well, I kind of remember, but I don’t remember any medallion.’
    ‘Exactly like this. With these arrows on it.’ He turned it over. ‘Look – there’s Roman lettering engraved on it, too. K A Z I M I.’
    ‘Ms Davis!’ called out an Irish voice, somewhere in the woods. ‘Ms Davis! Armed Gardai!’
    ‘I’m here!’ Adeola called back. ‘I’m OK!’
    Rick stood up. He held up the medallion for a moment, and then stowed it in his pocket.
    ‘You’re not going to show that to the Gardai?’ asked Adeola.
    ‘You think the Kerry cops have the capability to find out who these people are? I’ve just lost two people, Adeola, and that’s supposing they didn’t hit Jimmy and Miko, too. I need to know who we’re dealing with here.’
    Adeola thought about it, and then she nodded. ‘OK. I need to know, too.’
    Rick put his arm around her, and helped her make her way back up the path. As she hobbled over the stones and the roots,