Winch. Admittedly a creepy one, but just an amateur.”
Winch uttered an enraged cry. He dropped his right hand into his pocket, jerked it back out, showing the butterfly knife he held. His hand and wrist flicked in a controlled action and the naked blade sprang into view, locking in place.
McCarter stayed exactly where he was, no flicker of emotion crossing his face.
“Is this where I’m supposed to be scared to death? Isn’t going to work, chum. Come ahead if you think you can carve me up with that little boy’s knife.”
White lines formed at the corners of Winch’s taut mouth. “I’ll show you,” he said, his voice rising.
McCarter saw the bunching of muscles under Winch’s shirt, then the slight lean forward before he launched himself. The man was no knife fighter; the way he rushed McCarter showed his lack of expertise. Also his absence of judgment. His headlong lunge might as well have been in slow motion, since every scrap of movement was telegraphed to McCarter. The Phoenix Force commander held his position until the last moment, then turned his lean body, right hand snapping around to grasp Winch’s wrist. McCarter slid his left arm under Winch’s just below the elbow joint. He bore down on the wrist, heaved up with his left arm and snapped the forearm bone. Winch screamed in a high falsetto as the jagged end of the broken bone tore through the flesh, gleaming white against the bloody flesh. McCarter dragged him forward, turning him, and slammed Winch facefirst into the wall. The brutal impact crushed his nose and split his cheek. Winch slumped to his knees, sobbing in agony, hugging his ruined arm. Blood coursed down his face. The butterfly knife was on the floor beside him. McCarter snatched it up and closed it. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
“The thought that you turned on Henning pisses me off,” the Phoenix Force commander said. “I really don’t like people who do that to my mates.”
“They’ll get you. Get you all,” Winch rasped through clenched teeth. “You won’t stop…Prem…or Rahman…?.”
“One thing for sure, mate, you won’t be around to see it either way.” McCarter raised his right leg and slammed his foot into the back of his opponent’s neck. Winch’s spine was severed by the blow, the force driving his face into the wall with a sodden crunch. His body arched and then slumped to the floor, all resistance vanishing in death.
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