I need him to release her so she isn’t in the way.
He called Corbin’s name.
Corbin wheeled around, clutching Miss Muir. She was forced up on her tiptoes, face bloodless, pushing ineffectually against his beefy forearm.
“That lamp on the next building over,” he called to Corbin. “It’s thrice again as far from me as you are.”
He shouldered the rifle as Corbin turned his head in the direction of the lamp. The lamp exploded in a hail of glass and oil.
He had the Baker back on his hip by the time Corbin’s head swiveled back around. Through the first shot’s smoke, he kept his eyes on Corbin. “That was a warning shot. Let her go.”
Corbin looked nonplussed. “Non,I do not think I will.”
He flipped open the pan with his thumb without removing his eyes from Corbin. His hands still remembered the tasks like clockwork. “You should rethink that. Let the girl go. You have less than twenty seconds to decide.” Only a few seconds slower than on the Peninsula.
“You are known to me, Beaumont, if that even is your name. I was to tell you, if I saw you, that this is not a business of yours.”
Cartridge now.“I disagree.”
Even at a distance, Corbin’s arm visibly tightened against Miss Muir’s neck. “You will force me to hurt her.”
Several men crept silently from the ruelles to the north and east of the theater. Baudelaire’s men. Corbin noticed them as well, craning his head wildly. “Do not take the littlest step closer, any of you,” he warned.
He tore off the end of the cartridge with his teeth. “Let her go,” he repeated for a third time.
Corbin sneered, but it was edged with panic. And his grip had not slackened at all on Miss Muir, his knife still at her breast.
Faster.Men were at their most unpredictable when they panicked.
He was done negotiating. He took his eyes off Corbin just long enough to attend the priming. Baudelaire’s men would move no closer without cause. Pereira would wait for a signal unless Corbin tried something rash.
“This is not a business of yours,” Corbin repeated. “The man who pays me, she is his concern.”
Close the pan. Butt of the rifle on the ground now, barrel between his knees. Ram the cartridge home with both hands on the rod.
“What is your plan, Beaumont?” Yes, panic in Corbin’s voice now, matching his expression. “To shoot me down on the boulevard like the dog that is rabid?” His eyes darted, seeking escape routes. “I do not think you can hit my person with your fancyEnglish gun.” But his voice had lost its bravado. He was wholly exposed in the middle of the street.
Rod back in its pipe.Steady now.He swung the rifle into position on his shoulder. Sighted on Corbin.
Just behind Corbin, Monroe had come silently into a crouch, back in play. He nodded his head ever so slightly, acknowledging Nate’s readiness to fire, before lunging.
Startled and off balance, Corbin’s arm dropped. Miss Muir shoved free. As soon as she was clear, Nate fired.
Corbin’s right knee shattered, exactly as he’d intended. He’d always been as good a shot as any man in his company. Corbin was scum but hired scum only, more useful alive than dead.
Monroe flipped Corbin face down, and one of Baudelaire’s men produced a length of rope. Pereira sheathed his knife, an arm around Miss Muir’s waist, speaking calmly to her.
He reloaded the rifle as a precaution, although Pereira would get her to safety where Quinn waited. Pereira glanced at him in acknowledgment, still speaking low to Miss Muir.
She returned something, tone sharp but words indistinct at this distance, hand coming up to rub her throat where Corbin had hooked her. Pereira shrugged one shoulder before walking her over.
“You will send word to my sister now.” Her voice, hoarse, shook slightly, but her expression was vehement.
“Aye, I’ll see it done as soon as I’m able.”
“Now.” Her face was hard. “She will be worried.”
He motioned Monroe over. Baudelaire’s men had Corbin in hand; the French agents had interest in him for reasons of their own. Monroe looked a bit sheepish, but save for ballocks that were likely to be sore for a day or two, he was no worse the wear. He could deliver a verbal message to L’Orchidée.
