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The job was done, now all she had to do was get out. Getting in had been easy, the fact that she'd been on their payroll for two months now was a big bonus.
The cover story had been flawless, but now it was time for her to leave.
Walking toward the elevator she checked the clipboard she was carrying. Yes, it contained the 'work' she had to do.
* * *
Dietrich came into his office from lunch. Looking across to his expensive, leather-bound chair, he noticed it was facing the window. There was no mistaking the arm hanging from one side as being owned by Lawrence Emery: his black trench coat was slung casually over the desk.
"So, come to see my new office then?" Dietrich asked, lightly.
The silence he received confused him; usually he would have been threatened or something by now. He approached the desk and walked around it. The sight he beheld made him gag, he'd never seen the head of internal security smile quite that wide before.
* * *
Shit. The alarm sounded throughout the building. Looking ahead she saw the security guards step out and secure the only routes down the building. There were too many for her to take down quickly so she thought about her next move.
Looking around she noticed one of the guards moving on his own down a side corridor. Following close behind him she moved up the corridor, waiting until they were alone.
"Excuse me," she said as she approached him.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, turning towards her.
"What's going on?" she asked innocently.
"It seems there has been a murder on one of the upper floors..."
"Oh dear," she interrupted, in an astonished voice. "Like this you mean?"
Reaching up, she thrust her fingers into his unprotected throat. He clutched his neck as he began to choke. Jumping up she kicked him hard in the face so he fell backwards. She leapt on top of him and twisted his head sharply, there was a crack and he stopped moving.
She grabbed his pistol from its holster and moved toward the large glass window at the end of corridor. Knowing it was security glass and that it would take more than this gun to break it, she fired the entire clip into the seal at the bottom corner. Several blows with the butt of the gun and most of the seal was gone.
Just then half a dozen more guards came around the corner, two with weapons a little more powerful than the standard issue pistol. She reached into her waistband and pulled out the small gel pack smoke grenade. Dropping it, she ran up the wall and lodged herself in the ceiling. The firing only lasted a few seconds; it doesn't take long for an automatic weapon to unload its entire clip.
When the firing finally did stop the window was no more. Swinging down and out, she passed through the broken glass and out into the world outside the Dalyn-Steward skyscraper.
* * *
Falling.
Need to remove jacket. There, done.
Glad had planned for this.
Gotta pull rip-cord. Thank God, done.
* * *
The slim power chute opened. Designed for doing impressive skydiving stunts, the power chute allowed greater control of descent direction. Its one drawback: it did little to reduce downward velocity.
She directed herself away from the building, aiming for the Thames. She was coming in way too fast, so thought the water a better bet than the concrete of one of these buildings.
She made the angle as low as possible and skimmed the water for several hundred yards before cutting the chute away. She rolled across the water's surface, twisting badly as she travelled, before finally submerging.
She surfaced some minutes later half a mile downstream on the northern bank.
She was bleeding badly from a bullet wound to the right thigh and her left arm hung loosely by her side. She reached up to her arm and one grunt later had relocated it back into her shoulder. A quick blouse tearing moment and she had slowed the bleeding from her leg. She walked toward the city; now all she had to do was find a taxi.
Paul Taylor, 24/02/01
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