Read Online Peccadillo - A Katla Novel (Amsterdam Assassin Series Book 2) by Martyn V. Halm - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Martyn V. Halm
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more out of him.”
“He might have seen where she went, after he dropped her off. What do we do now?”
“I gave him an old business card.” Nicky smiled. “If that information ends up with Sieltjes, we know Thooft is playing us. And we’ll come back to play with him.”
Chen tapped the console on the dashboard. “We can follow him with the GPS tracker.”
“We’ll put a car on him, follow him around, check out who he picks up and where he takes them. I have a feeling Sieltjes will make contact with him.”
CATADUPA
Katla circled the scuffed red leather punch bag, dressed in a slip and a halter top, hands covered to the wrists with protective bandages. Her punches rained down on the leather; quick underhand jabs followed by hard overhand hits that rocked the bag on the cable by which it hung from the ceiling. Breathing deep, she detected the fragrant smell of marihuana and moved to the trap door, looked down in a pair of amber eyes.
“Sista.” Zephaniah Catadupa smiled and climbed the rest of the stairs. “No possible sneaking up on you, sight?”
Katla tilted her chin to signal for him to sit on the Nautilus and drifted back to the punch bag. While the corpulent Rastafarian sat down on the padded bench of the weight machine, Katla continued her exercises. Zeph wasn’t smoking, but evidently the marihuana smell permeated his clothes. He was checking out her footwork. Although hampered by her crippled leg, her punches were quick and precise, connecting solidly.
Zeph nodded appreciatively. “Like your style. Sober.”
“Fancy moves don’t get the job done, Zeph.”
The punch bag rocked on the chain.
“Them cruel blows, sista. Cause damage, you punch a man.”
Katla smiled, kept on punching the bag.
“Where you learn box?”
“Amsterdam, Paris.” Katla punctuated every word with hard punches to the bag. “London, New York and Seoul.”
“Soul?”
Katla steadied the punch bag with her left hand and gave the bag a final vicious blow. “The capital of South Korea, Zeph.”
“Ah.”
“They have good fighters.” She peeled off the protective bandages and hung them out to dry on a rack in the corner. While she took a towel and dried her hair Zeph rose from the padded bench, walked through the aura of sweat surrounding the punch bag and halted by the window.
“What them doing here?” Zeph pointed at the two guilders lying on the sill, gleaming in the early morning sunlight. “You dust them regularly.”
“No.” Katla draped the towel around her neck. “I use them frequently.”
“For what?”
“To test my speed and accuracy.”
She took one of the guilders, stretched out his arm with the palm down and placed the coin on the back of his hand. “Pull back your hand and catch the coin in the palm before it hits the ground.”
Zeph licked his lips and yanked his hand back, sank swiftly through his knees and caught the guilder in the palm of his hand. “Like that?”
“Swifter.”
He put the coin on the back of his hand and tried again, but Katla shook her head. “Too slow.”
“Okay,” he said, holding the coin out to her. “Show me.”
“Fetch the other one as well.”
Katla limped to the punch bag, turned around to face him and sank through her knees, leaving a slight gap between her body and the bag. She stretched her arms out in front of her, the hands held with the palms turned to the floor and Zeph walked up to her with the guilders.
She tilted her chin forward. “Place one coin on each hand.”
“Same place?”
“Just behind the knuckles, yes.”
Her hands were steady, the fingers straight out, the thumbs folded in. Zeph placed the guilders and stepped back.
“You catch them simultaneously?”
Katla didn’t answer, but closed her eyes. The bag hovered behind her. In the space between two heartbeats her elbows rammed backwards into the punch bag and her hands shot forward to catch the coins. She opened her eyes, turned her hands over and showed
“He might have seen where she went, after he dropped her off. What do we do now?”
“I gave him an old business card.” Nicky smiled. “If that information ends up with Sieltjes, we know Thooft is playing us. And we’ll come back to play with him.”
Chen tapped the console on the dashboard. “We can follow him with the GPS tracker.”
“We’ll put a car on him, follow him around, check out who he picks up and where he takes them. I have a feeling Sieltjes will make contact with him.”
CATADUPA
Katla circled the scuffed red leather punch bag, dressed in a slip and a halter top, hands covered to the wrists with protective bandages. Her punches rained down on the leather; quick underhand jabs followed by hard overhand hits that rocked the bag on the cable by which it hung from the ceiling. Breathing deep, she detected the fragrant smell of marihuana and moved to the trap door, looked down in a pair of amber eyes.
“Sista.” Zephaniah Catadupa smiled and climbed the rest of the stairs. “No possible sneaking up on you, sight?”
Katla tilted her chin to signal for him to sit on the Nautilus and drifted back to the punch bag. While the corpulent Rastafarian sat down on the padded bench of the weight machine, Katla continued her exercises. Zeph wasn’t smoking, but evidently the marihuana smell permeated his clothes. He was checking out her footwork. Although hampered by her crippled leg, her punches were quick and precise, connecting solidly.
Zeph nodded appreciatively. “Like your style. Sober.”
“Fancy moves don’t get the job done, Zeph.”
The punch bag rocked on the chain.
“Them cruel blows, sista. Cause damage, you punch a man.”
Katla smiled, kept on punching the bag.
“Where you learn box?”
“Amsterdam, Paris.” Katla punctuated every word with hard punches to the bag. “London, New York and Seoul.”
“Soul?”
Katla steadied the punch bag with her left hand and gave the bag a final vicious blow. “The capital of South Korea, Zeph.”
“Ah.”
“They have good fighters.” She peeled off the protective bandages and hung them out to dry on a rack in the corner. While she took a towel and dried her hair Zeph rose from the padded bench, walked through the aura of sweat surrounding the punch bag and halted by the window.
“What them doing here?” Zeph pointed at the two guilders lying on the sill, gleaming in the early morning sunlight. “You dust them regularly.”
“No.” Katla draped the towel around her neck. “I use them frequently.”
“For what?”
“To test my speed and accuracy.”
She took one of the guilders, stretched out his arm with the palm down and placed the coin on the back of his hand. “Pull back your hand and catch the coin in the palm before it hits the ground.”
Zeph licked his lips and yanked his hand back, sank swiftly through his knees and caught the guilder in the palm of his hand. “Like that?”
“Swifter.”
He put the coin on the back of his hand and tried again, but Katla shook her head. “Too slow.”
“Okay,” he said, holding the coin out to her. “Show me.”
“Fetch the other one as well.”
Katla limped to the punch bag, turned around to face him and sank through her knees, leaving a slight gap between her body and the bag. She stretched her arms out in front of her, the hands held with the palms turned to the floor and Zeph walked up to her with the guilders.
She tilted her chin forward. “Place one coin on each hand.”
“Same place?”
“Just behind the knuckles, yes.”
Her hands were steady, the fingers straight out, the thumbs folded in. Zeph placed the guilders and stepped back.
“You catch them simultaneously?”
Katla didn’t answer, but closed her eyes. The bag hovered behind her. In the space between two heartbeats her elbows rammed backwards into the punch bag and her hands shot forward to catch the coins. She opened her eyes, turned her hands over and showed
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