by Jack Parker
"That all you bitches got?" She taunted, keeping a wary eye on both women as they stood and began to circle her.
"I'll kill you!" Mila snarled, whirling her weapon above her head as she circled left.
Jess gave her partner an amused glance then drew another knife from her thigh holster. She bowed low, then held the knives out to in front of her in an inverted grip.
"You dance well, Kingsley," she said. "I'm curious what that ridiculous stance is all about, but I'm afraid it's time to end this little party. We do have such nice men waiting on us."
Mila bellowed and charged, her weapon whistled low as it angled for Victoria's knees. Victoria jumped over the mace and kicked with both feet, but Mila ducked under her, landing a hard punch in Victoria's gut. She grunted as air fled from her body, but managed to follow through and bring her elbow down on Mila's head. She was rewarded with a pained snarl as Mila fell face first to the blacktop of the roof.
Victoria landed in a crouch and sprang at a forty five degree angle toward Jess, who did a back handspring to gain distance. Jess crossed her arms in front of her, one knife over each shoulder, and uncrossing her arms in a flash sent two knives at Victoria.
Shit! Victoria tried to twist, to roll out of the way, the high knife went whizzing over her shoulder, but the other sank deep into her right thigh. Victoria screeched in pain and dropped to her knees. She quickly pulled the knife free and held it out in defense. Jess was in the middle of drawing the last two of her blades. Victoria lunged off her good leg.
And was ensnared by a length of chord wrapping tightly around her throat.
Victoria ground her teeth and struggled as she was yanked off her feet. The throwing knife slipped from her grasp as she was dragged backwards. She felt the two short poles locking behind her head. She clawed at the cord in a vain effort to release the pressure. The cord tightened like a vice and Victoria's eyes bulged. Her lungs demanded air, but her throat sent a nauseous rejection down to her stomach. She fought through the dry heave and elbowed at Mila, tried to trip her, but the powerful woman stood humming some obnoxious children's song above her, forcing Victoria to her knees as slowly the energy drained from her, as slowly the world grew darker . . . darker.
"Hold," Victoria could barely hear Jess, who sounded quite distant now. "I want to ask her something first."
The pressure on Victoria's throat lessoned slightly. She coughed as a tiny amount of air entered her lungs like a single drop of water on a parched tongue—but the vice still held her tightly. Victoria's arms and legs felt heavy, bristling with pins and needles. Two fingers lifted her chin, and she opened her eyes to Jess' wicked smile.
"Miss Kingsley, do you have any idea what you were up against? Why fight us? All we want is a new world order, one world, one government, one peace. The weapons you seek to protect will serve one nation for a time, but sooner or later, they will end up on both sides of countless more wars, causing countless more deaths. Help us put an end to that. Join us. Become our sister."
So it is a weapons deal, thought Victoria as more oxygen returned to her brain.
"I . . . hhaaaack . . . If I said yes . . . cuff . .. you would just trust me?"
"You would become our sweet little prisoner for a time as we made sure you were properly indoctrinated. But really, that's not so bad, is it? In a few months you would see why we are not the bad guys here."
She means torture and brain washing, Victoria realized. No thanks.
"Go to . . .huuuah . . .Go to hell."
"Pity," Jess said, frowning. "I really hoped that—"
A muffled ringtone version of Mr. Roboto interrupted Jess. She fished around in one of her pouches, and Victoria wondered if she was about to die to the beat of a quirky Styx song.
"Ugh, my sweetheart is calling," Jess said with a roll of her eyes. "Woke up and got lonely no doubt. Mila don't take too long finishing her, ok? I'm sure your handsome man is bound to be wondering where you are too."
"Pfft. Not likely," Mila spat. "Prick."
Jess produced a rod of steel attached to a line from one of her pouches. She pressed a button and the rod produced three hooks. She secured the hook to the base of a rooftop electrical unit, and stood on the edge of the building.
"Nice knowing you, Miss Kingsley," she said as she leapt over the side.
The vice tightened around Victoria's neck again, the air left her, and she felt her hands go limp. She looked around desperately for the throwing knife she had dropped when Mila had first ensnared her, but it was nowhere to be found. Jess must have collected it.
"Don't worry," Mila said, mewling into her ear. "This won't take long."
Victoria flinched as the crazy woman licked her cheek slowly. Eeeew.
Dean, Victoria thought sadly as the darkness crept in. I'm sorry. I failed.
Dean smiled at her from beyond. She was warm in his embrace by the fire at the ski lodge. Then hot and muggy as he winked at her in the jungle, and they split up for the last time. Fingers dripping with blood left a smear on her cheek as she cradled Dean in her arms. His hand fell limp and he left her forever in that South American rainforest. If only I had been faster . . .
All vision faded.
Abruptly the vice around her neck was lifted. Light returned like starburst to her eyes. Victoria coughed and wheezed as she sucked in as much air as she could. Feet shuffled on gravel behind her as something clattered to the ground. Panting on her hands and knees, Victoria looked up to find Jake grappling with Mila. She growled and fought furiously with her elbows as she struggled to escape Jake's choke hold.
"J-Jake!" Victoria coughed in surprise.
Mila head-butted Jake with the back of her head under his chin, and freeing herself, spun and planted a quick jabbing palm into his nose. Jake staggered backward, a dribble of blood ran from his nose, but he quickly regained composure, grinning stupidly at the redhead as she advanced on him. Victoria tried to stand, but her leg wound immediately demanded she have a seat. She clutched at her thigh and went down.
"Jake!" she cried hoarsely as she belly-crawled towards Mila's weapon. It lay just out of reach. "Get out of here! She'll kill you!"
Mila jabbed twice, then followed with a series of open palm strikes, a hook, and an uppercut. Jake turned easily from side to side, moving his head only slightly when needed, and evaded every strike . . . except the uppercut. He disrupted the attack by placing his hand in the crook of her elbow while simultaneously twisting his body away from her. Mila ended up with her arm inverted and locked under Jakes powerful frame. The assassin cried out in pain and rage.
"Stop struggling," Jake told the assassin. His eyes glinted for a moment as he glanced at Victoria as if to say, I have this under control. "The more you struggle the more you hurt yourself."
"Fuck off!" Mila snapped, her trapped shoulder straining as she tried to pry herself loose.
There was a sickening pop as Mila's shoulder dislocated. The assassin screamed louder than Victoria had yet heard her. Jake looked both surprised and angry.
"I told you, you stupid—"
Victoria's throat burned with every word as she interrupted.
"How do we find Montoya? Tell us!"
She inched forward and reached again. Her fingertips brushed Mila's weapon and it rolled toward her.
Mila sank to her knees, laughing low in her throat as Jake kept ahold of her. She grinned wildly, a crazed look in her eye as she stared Victoria down.
"That street filth? He's probably crawling out of a gutter somewhere."
Jake was sharp. Victoria hated that he was involved, but he followed her lead flawlessly, playing the part of a second agent. He increased the pressure on Mila's torn shoulder and dug his knuckles in, causing her to cry out again in pain—pain Mila seemed to enjoy.
"Where?" Jake demanded.
"If I tell you," Mila cooed, grinning again. "I'll have to kill you, heh - heh!"
"I'll take my chances," Jake replied.
"Montoya is in Dreaml
and, hmmm ha ha. Now . . ."
Mila reached beneath her boot and retrieved a knife—the same knife that had carved a hole in Victoria's leg. With a dislocated shoulder, Mila had the freedom to turn and angle the blade at Jakes throat.
"Jake!" Victoria cried, her hand closing on the handle of Mila's mace. "Look out!"
"Die!" Mila screeched as she twisted her body and thrust upward with the blade.
Victoria came to one knee and flung the weapon at Mila, the chord whirring as it unwound. The mace end struck Mila on the side of the head full force, just as Jake bent backwards to dodge a slash from the knife. The impact of the mace sent Mila staggering backward—right over the edge of the building. Her final scream echoed off the walls of the alley as she fell to her death six stories below. The weapon retracted, coming together neatly in Victoria's hand.
Victoria tossed the weapon aside and sat back onto the blacktop, clutching at the wound on her leg, which burned with a deeper pain as the adrenaline seeped from her system.
"I have to stop making messes on rooftops," she muttered to herself as Jake rushed to her side. He wore an expression of concern.
"You're hurt. Let me see."
"It's nothing. Just a scratch. We need to get out of here before the body is noticed."
"No, this is bad," Jake insisted. "That's a stab wound, isn't it? We need to get you to a hospital."
"No!" Victoria barked. Realizing Jake had happened onto something he couldn't understand, she spoke more softly. Every word was agony. Victoria hoped her larynx had not been damaged. "No. I can't go to the hospital. I can patch this up in my room."
"But . . ."
"Jake, just trust me."
"At least let me get a pressure bandage on this."
Jake retrieved the prison guard uniform that Jess had discarded.
"Here you can wear this if it fits," he said, tossing her the shirt. "Though I don't mind the view I'm getting with the one you're still wearing.
"Shut up!" Victoria croaked as she hurried to change shirts.
While she changed, Jake cut the pants into strips with the bloody knife. Then he wrapped the strips expertly around a large square patch of folded cloth. The bandage was tight, and it seemed to hold for the moment. When he finished, he looked up at her and grinned.
"There. Good as new."
Victoria punched him in the gut. It was a weak punch, but hard enough to make him cough. She glared up at him.
"That was for following me."
She reached up and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, pulling his head close to hers.
"And this . . ."
She kissed him with force, but light enough to keep her lips soft and inviting, and was surprised at the fluttering in her belly as he eagerly returned her kiss. A part of her didn't want to ever break away, but the feeling also frightened her. It meant she could lose control. She could not allow that. She pushed him back gently.
". . . is for saving my life."
Jake cocked his head at her as he helped her to her feet.
"Who were those women? Why was she trying to kill you? What are you doing out here anyway? What the hell is going on here Nova?"
"Victoria."
"Huh?"
"My name is Victoria. I'm not who you think I am, Jake."
Jake backed away slowly, a shadow of fear falling over his features as comprehension hit.
"I kind of figured that out. But who . . ."
She reached for his hand and held it between them as she looked deep into his eyes.
"I can't explain everything. It's classified. But I'm one of the good guys. You have to keep all of this to yourself. You understand?"
Jake nodded.
"You're a real spy. Like a real spy. And all of this is a really real spy game."
"Yes," Victoria admitted. "But don't worry. I won't be involved in the show after tomorrow. Just keep all this to yourself, and you should be fine."
"With more of those evil chicks out there? You're giving up? Frankly, I'd feel safer if you were around."
"I . . . Jake it's out of my hands. I'm being executed from the show. I don't want to leave but I have orders. Someone else will take over."
"Let me help you,' Jake offered. "I can do this."
"Jake, I can't put you in danger like that."
"You said you were getting executed right? I think I know a way to keep us both on."
This caused Victoria's head to come up. The insane offer gnawed at her curiosity and threw a spark at her dying hopes.
"How?" she asked.
"Follow me first."
Jake took her by the hand and slowly led her along.
"Where are you taking me?"
"There is this neat invention called stairs. Us normal guys use them to get to the top of buildings. Let's master those before I tell you my ingenious plan.
Victoria smiled and leaned on him for support.
Chapter Twelve
Ringing. Her head was full of the accursed sound of ringing. Maybe the ringing would stop, leave her in peace. Grace Goodson groaned and rolled over, hoping the soft pillows would somehow muffle the sound trying to usurp her dreams and force her into consciousness. It was no use. Blindly, she stretched out her hand to the nightstand, searching for the phone which would just not stop fucking ringing.
Her hand knocked into something and it thumped to the floor. She brushed the alarm clock out of the way at first, then changed her mind, curious of the time, she opened one eye just enough to look at the time. The red digital letters read 5:55, as if each five were an evil devil face laughing at her. God damn it, she thought. Couldn't they have waited five more minutes?
She slammed the clock down, reached for the receiver again. She found it.
"Hello?"
There was nothing but a dial tone. The ringing had stopped as she picked up the receiver, but now it started again. As more fog cleared from Grace's mind, she realized it was coming from her cell phone, the ring tone set on some feature that was supposed to mimic an old fashioned land line ring. It was the only one that didn't sound stupid to her, but apparently there was a drawback.
"Damn it," Grace swore as she reached for her cell phone on the ground, still connected to its charger. "Got to change that ring."
The phone started to ring again, and the caller ID read, Steve Daniels.
She sighed as she hit accept. "What is it, Steve?"
The news he had for her made her sit bolt upright in bed.
"What!" she exclaimed. "Why?"
Steve went on to give her more bad news. Would the bad news ever stop rolling in?
"Stall them!" she barked. "I'm on my way!"
Grace mashed the end call icon, tossed the phone onto the bed along with her silver-slip night gown, and hurried to her closet. As she dressed, the buzzing of her alarm clock was not nearly as annoying as the furious questions buzzing in her head.
* * *
"Did you ever even go home?" Graced asked pleasantly as she stepped into her office and shut the door behind her. She didn't have to lower the blinds, as they were already shut. It probably wasn't necessary though, most of the crew would not even start trickling in until about an hour from now to get ready for the debriefing shoot.
"Course, I did," said Steve, sitting on a couch at the back of the office. "I came in early to make sure all the preparations were in order. Plus, you know how hectic yesterday was."
"Right," Grace said absent-mindedly as she made eye contact with the two other people in the room. The man sat in a rolling chair not far from Steve, he leaned slightly back, smiling at her behind beady little eyes and a large bushy mustache, he adjusted the digital computer pad on his lap. The woman stood near the desk, tall and lean, with dark hair cut short so that it curled to a point under each ear. She wore an expression of mild curiosity as she looked up at Grace from the chrome mind-teaser puzzle that she was fiddling with. Grace liked to keep the thing on her desk, and it annoyed her greatly that the woman was messing with
it, making little progress.
"I presume these are our visitors you told me about?" Grace said as she made her way to her chair at her desk and offered her hand to the woman. "Grace Goodson."
"That's right," answered the woman. "I'm Detective Wrigley of the LVPD, and that's Detective Spears." Spears gave a small wave but did not stand. "
"We know you're very busy Ms. Goodson," Wrigley continued. "We just had a few questions for you and shouldn't take much of your time."
"All right," Grace said as she took her seat. "Go ahead detectives. Just be aware we do have a big moment in the show coming up at eight and preparations do need to be made. What's this about?"
"Ms. Goodson, there's been a murder of someone associated with your show," Wrigley said, walking around to the front of Grace's desk. "We've identified a body we found in a downtown alleyway as one Mila Masters. Ring any bells?"
Grace had to think for a moment. Someone working on the show was murdered! This was way worse than she thought, and had very little to do with the motorcycle hooligan fiasco that she feared. Grace gave a small, bitter laugh. And here I thought things couldn't get any worse.
Wrigley made a face as if she were personally insulted.
"Is something funny, Ms. Goodson?"
Grace cleared her throat. "No, it's just that…Nevermind. I know the name but I'm having a hard time remembering. Steve, you remember who Mila Master's is?"
"Isn't she one of the brides to be for the wedding series?" Steve asked.
"Maybe this will refresh your memory," said Spears in a voice that was soft and deep. He stood and crossed to the desk, placing the digital pad in front of Grace, a gruesome photograph of a hooker lying dead in an alleyway. Her head was twisted at an odd angle, the pavement cracked beneath her and stained with blood.