Brainrush 03 - Beyond Judgment Read Free

nose. Cartilage cracked. Blood flowed. He turned to face the third man, when out of the corner of his eye he saw his would-be rescuer fling the object. In the same instant, there were muffled gunshots from within the car and the helmeted scooter rider was thrown backward onto the gravel. But the object he’d hurled continued its arc toward Renzo in a wobbling spiral.
    It looked like a small pyramid.
    Renzo felt a tingling sensation in his forehead.

Chapter 2

    Le Focette, Marina di Pietrasanta, Italy
    S OUND MUTED . T HE world around Renzo slowed as the miniature pyramid tumbled through its arc. The closer it got, the stronger the tingling in his head and limbs. Gulls hung as if suspended midflight. The driverless scooter skidded on its side in frame-by-frame motion, furrowing a bow wave of gravel before it. The silenced barrel of a pistol rose toward Renzo’s face. His gut tightened. Fear fueled his supercharged reflexes.
    His hand chopped at the nerve bundle in the man’s forearm. The move must have appeared impossibly fast to his assailant. Fingers numbed, grip loosened, and the weapon dropped to the ground. Doors unlocked in Renzo’s brain, and he recognized the gun as the tactical version of a Sphinx AT380, with 9mm slugs, a sixteen-round magazine, and manufacturing tolerances that rivaled that of a Swiss watchmaker. Details of the weapon flashed through his mind like he was reading a Wikipedia page.
    The pistol settled in the gravel. The black pyramid dropped beside it, and an explosion of memories expanded in his mind. The force of it nearly knocked him off his feet. But instinct held him steady. Arms grappled from behind. His body responded in a blur of action. He grabbed a wrist, spun, and flipped the leader onto his back. A heel to the temple and he was out cold. A stiff-fingered gouge to the throat of another. A vicious side kick to thechest of the third man. The BMW driver moved around the front of the car, a compact assault rifle pressed to one shoulder. Renzo somersaulted toward him. In a single fluid motion, he grabbed the Sphinx and double-tapped the trigger. Twin holes blossomed in the driver’s chest, lifting him from his feet. A shuffle at Renzo’s back set off alarms. He tumbled to one side as spits from a silenced weapon left a trail of slugs puckering the gravel beside his head. He rolled to his back, extended his pistol, and squeezed the trigger three times. The killer’s body jerked with the impact of each slug. He folded to the ground and lay still.
    Time settled.
    Renzo felt the throb of his heart at his temples. The high-speed effort had taken a toll. He staggered to his feet. The scene shocked him. He fought a sudden urge to vomit. The scooter driver was surely dead, as were two of the gunmen. A third gasped a final, rasping breath through a crushed larynx. The fourth—their leader—lay unconscious. There was a seesaw of sirens in the distance. The family must have called the authorities, Renzo thought. He needed to leave. He gathered the weapons, tossed them into the sedan’s trunk, and slammed the lid.
    On his way around the car, he retrieved the miniature pyramid. It was the size of an apple. When his fingers closed around its smooth surface, his body seized. His mind reeled with a rush of images. Like flipping channels on a TV, each scene was replaced by another before his consciousness could cling to its details. Faces, bodies, and explosions swirled amid a tornado of emotions that brought forth an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. Each image kindled a memory more painful than the last. Rather than embracing them, he pushed them away, corralling them into a closet deep in his brain. His body shook with the effort.
    It was the groan of the man from the scooter that broke the spell. Renzo’s wits returned. He rushed forward and knelt beside the fallen man, setting the miniature pyramid on the gravel.
    The man still wore his helmet. His eyes fluttered open. Renzo pushed aside a sense