Balance (39 page)

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Authors: Kurt Bartling

BOOK: Balance
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Rena considers his request, the purpose of the mission, of her mission. 
“Because
Mr Frienz,
that would
be
counterproductive to
the
task at hand
.
” She
states coldly.

Frienz
gazes at
the perfect silhouette
of the woman
standing with
her
back to him.  “
Excuse me, d
o I know you?”

“No, but you know my employer.
” She pauses, preparing for any reaction, “
I am here to make you an offer.  Chango would like to bring you on board as a partner in his organization.  I was asked to wait for your answer.”

Frienz regards her with growing anger
.

Without concern,
Rena makes no effort
to
turn and address him directly.  She
remains
fixed
in front of the
window, champagne glass in
her left
hand
,
held
chest high, waiting for his answer.

Frienz walks to the window, standing a couple feet
away
, glaring at her
impassive
face.

Michael
trains his sights on his
fore
head.

“What the hell is this
?
  Chango
?  He
sent you

to make an offer to me … to me?
” He
laughs with contempt,

That’s
fucking
crazy.  There is no chance in
hell
I
’d
jump on board with that
psychotic
son-of-a-
bitch
.”

Rena dr
ops her champagne glass
.

A
t the
same instant
the elev
a
tor door
s
open, th
r
owing light into the
rear of
suite.  Someone bolts from the elevator.

 

Michael sees the signal.
A
bout to pull the trigger
,
when a
n unexp
ected light appears in the room, he
r
efocus
es
,
identif
ying
a gun appear
in the distance
behind
Frienz
.
He
fires.

 

A
small hole appears i
n the window in front of Frienz.
He hears the distinct
sound of com
pressed
air,
as
tiny shard
s
of glass
blow
into his face.
 
He turns
abruptly
,
just
in time to
see
the
securit
y guard behind him, the back of his head exploding onto the far wall
.

Reacting
instantly
out of fear
for his preservation,
Frienz
jump
s
to
the beautiful woman
, pulling her
between
him
and
the window. 
H
ol
ding
her
body
before
him
like a shield
,
his
left arm over her shoulder and
down
across her chest
, h
is head hidden behind
hers
.

Rena’s
right hand
instinctively
reaches up to his
left
wris
t
.

Fri
enz
rea
ches into his coat
,
retrieving
a small caliber
handgun
and pointing it at her temple.
 
For seconds nothing happens, t
h
a
n Frienz
get
s
his bearings.
 
“Who the hell is out there?”

W
ith
her
left hand, free at her side,
Rena makes a small gesture
,
a gesture only
Michael would see or understand. 
Forming
a “V” between her extended middle and ring fingers,
then she points down with
her index finger
.
 
Extending
all five fingers,
Rena
spread
s
them
wide at her hip
.

Five
,

These days,
I believe he’s being called
the
Harbinger of Death
.”
  Rena
intimates
calmly
.

Four
,
“But I just know him as Michael
.
” 
Michael trains his sights on Rena’s forehead.

Three
,

Y
ou see, he and I
,
we’
re lovers.
” 

Frienz starts to tremble.
  The Harbinger of Death, one of t
he hottest
topics
on the net, t
he mystery surrounding
who he is and the details of his exploits, border on legend.

Two
,

And
, unlike me, he
was
sent here
…” 
she takes a calming breath and closes her eyes.
  Frienz distracted by the thought of the Harbinger
of Death
, doesn’t notice Rena gently grab the thumb of his left hand.

One
,

… to
kill you.

  Michael exhales slowly
.
  In one lightning quick movement, she bends
the thumb
backward,
snapping
the digit.

Zero
,
Rena’s legs drop out
from under her.
Michael fir
es
.

T
he
pain of the finger
and his hostage’s
body drop
ping
,
surprises Frienz.
He
watches as another small
hole appear
s
in the
window
in front
of him.  As before,
tiny shards of glass blow into his face and eyes,
he
hears the
sa
me sound of compressed air,
feels
an
odd sensation in his forehead
and then
… nothing.

Rena
catches herself,
maintaining
her balance
,
as Frienz falls back away
, dead

W
ithout any regard for the death
dealt
in the suite
,
s
he turns
and
walks
quickly
to
the elevator.  The door
s open
.  Rena steps
inside;
pleased Frienz’s
private elevator goes all the way to the lobby, no
way to
stop
it
between there and the suite, except the
ballroom
.

The doors
close.  She
waits sixty-seconds before pushing the lobby button, giving Michael enough time
to
get ahead of her
e
n route to the ground floor.
T
he elevator
start
s
its
descent
.
She doesn’t relax until
she’s
t
ravel
ed half
the
floors
to the lobby.

 

W
atching
Rena stand up a
nd
exit
the suite
,
Michael
discards
the rifle,
seizes
his we
apons
satchel
and
runs
to the
roof access
.
 
Instead of
using
the steps
,
he jumps down the center of the stairwell
. D
ropping two flights before grabbing
the
raili
ng
,
arresting
his
fall
,
he
releas
es
to
drop two more flights, then two more b
efore swinging over the railing
to the landing

He races
through the
entrance
into the hallway
to the
elevator he had waiting
,
the
doors
locked
open and
alarm disabled two day
s earlier
.
 
Releasing
the
lock, he
p
resses
the button for the lobby
.

While t
he elevator descends, he
slips on
his holster harness and slides all but four knives into the sheaths
sewn in
around
his thighs.  He
pulls the custodial uniform over his field jumper
.

The elevator reaches
the ground floor
.

Stepping
out,
not e
xpecting anyone
in the building
,
h
e walks quickly
, confidently,
toward
the
security
desk
.  His arms snap
forward,
a pair of knives
leaping from his fingers
, finding their mark, embedding in
the
throats of the unsuspecting guards
.

S
top
ping
at the
security station
,
Michael
plac
es
explosives on the counter top and
set
s
the timer for
60
-seconds
.

Two bodies dead on the floor and the distraction set, he w
alk
s
quickly
through the metal detector, setting it off
as
he
heads
to the
front entrance.  Outside
,
he cross
es
the street
into the par
k
and waits
for Re
n
a to
exit
the RamSteele building.

 

Arriving
at the
lobby
, Rena
r
each
es
into her bustier, remov
ing
the small
heart-shaped
knife,
sliding it over her index and middle fingers,
concealing
the blade
in her
palm
.

She steps ou
t of the private elevator, spotting the guard walking toward her.
A
s she expected
, they must have discovered
Frienz’s body.

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