They were close behind her. Very close.
Her spike heels echoed through the city street as she pushed herself on. The black leather of her jacket stuck to her as a fine sheen of sweat accumulated on her pale skin. Barely a breeze ruffled her short, white hair.
She skidded to a halt beside an expensive-looking sports car. Not what she would have chosen herself but it had been provided by the client. Might as well use it. It would have to be dumped later, but hopefully not without some profit to be made from it. The wail of police sirens was growing louder and louder as she wrenched the door open and threw herself behind the wheel.
Immediately she felt her heart begin to slow as she was able to appraise her situation. Her bright blue eyes narrowed as she watched a police car stop at the end of the alley. Contemplatively, she watched the officers take up positions and start edging towards her.
She felt the ghost of a smile play at her lips as she started the ignition, thrust the car into gear and hurtled out towards the amassed police cars. Christie watched the dawning realisation spread across their faces as they hurriedly tried to move out of her path.
She sped on into the city and into the night. She spun the wheel expertly and turned into another street, and then another. It would be a few more minutes yet she calculated before they could get a helicopter to track her. She just had to get out of the city centre. Just a little further into the suburbs.
The sounds behind her became more and more distant. She allowed herself to sink back into the soft leather interior. A small sigh escaped her and she flicked her tongue over her full lips.
" A little sloppy, no? "
Instantly, Christie tensed. She cursed herself in her mind. Fool, damn fool. Didn't check the back of the car. Lesson number one. Still, she had made mistakes before, not many it's true, but she had made mistakes. She could recover this situation. Just pay attention to what's going on and think. If they wanted you dead they probably wouldn't be engaging in conversation. She reminded herself of the reassuring weight of the two guns against her sides.
" Sloppy? " she questioned neutrally. Scrutinising the back mirror, even throwing a glance over her shoulder, all she could get was a glimpse of green material.
" Well I thought assassins were meant to slip in and out quietly. Stealth and all that. And I'd say, by the look of all those police cars, that someone saw you. "
Despite herself, Christie felt nettled at the slur on her professional expertise.
" The information I was given was incorrect. "
" Ah, " the voice conceded.
There was silence for a few seconds, before they added,
" Still, I thought you'd check the back of the car before you got in. "
Christie's lips tightened. She fumed. In the midst of the shock and then insult, she realised she had missed something vital. Perhaps she was getting sloppy. She knew that voice. She knew it, but couldn't place it.
" Why don't you come out from behind the seats and discuss it with me, " she challenged. Her eyes flicked between watching the road and the rear view mirror.
" Perhaps I should. It is painful to be cramped up back here. I shall have back ache if I'm not careful, " the voice responded.
There was quiet for a few seconds.
" Well? " Christie demanded impatiently, when the stowaway still didn't show themselves.
" I am afraid, " the voice countered, slightly embarrassed.
" But I'm such a sloppy assassin, " Christie threw back sarcastically. " Surely you're not afraid of little, old, inept me? "
There was silence again.
" You sound a little angry. Perhaps I should stay back here. "
Tired of playing games, Christie slammed the brakes down. She threw her hands up off the steering wheel, frustrated. She shook her head and switched the ignition off.
" I'm tired, I'm dirty and I'm not in the mood for this, " she stated. " So you come out now or I come back there and get you out. "
Cautiously, the stowaway lifted their head. She watched the tall, oriental man unwind himself from the darkness of the back seat and sit up. His long white hair was secured into a plait. His dark eyes watched her carefully. The muscular build of his body was emphasised by the green shirt and dark jeans he was wearing.
" Tempting offer. " He tried a smile at her, hopefully.
She stared at him. Shock mingled with relief. And confusion, above everything else, confusion.
" Brad, " she stated. " Brad Wong. "
" You remember me! That is a good start. "
Christie stared up at the night sky and struggled for words.
" What.. Uh.. Just, what do you want? "
" Down to business, no messing about. You are very professional Christie. I take it all back. "
" No Brad, tell me now. What do you want? What are you doing in my car? How did you find me? And again, what do you want? "
Brad sat forward, the moonlight playing across his handsome features. She had never noticed he was good looking. Christie caught herself quickly. There were plenty of good looking men about she reminded herself and they were all too much trouble for someone in her line of work.
" I needed the advice of an assassin, " he said thoughtfully. Then he grinned suddenly. " You are an assassin, no? All those police officers are not chasing you down for parking tickets, I hope? Not that I would hope that you had killed someone you understand. Though it would not be my business to interfere in your chosen vocation. Simply it would be very embarrassing for me. "
Christie sat back and tried to take in this verbal onslaught. She was almost dizzy with fatigue and hunger. What with incorrect information and a very elusive target this had not been the easiest of missions. She had been stretched too far in the last few days. She needed rest. Not this drunk with verbal diarrhoea and beautiful eyes.
" Are you unwell? " she heard him ask solicitously as she closed her eyes for a moment. She felt his fingers brush lightly against her brow. Positive human contact. How long was it since she'd experienced that? Not strangulation or punches or kicks. Physical contact that didn't mean any harm. The suddenness of it knocked her.
" Take your hands off me or I'll do it for you, " she warned, her eyes flicking open again. Brad raised his hands in mock surrender.
" I'm sorry. "
Christie turned around to face him.
" So, you want advice huh? Isn't that what you said? "
" The advice of an assassin, yes. "
Christie met his gaze and held it.
" Why me? Why not.. Well, why not Bayman? "
" Bayman is not as pretty as you, " Brad offered winningly.
Seeing her bright eyes harden to steel, Brad felt forced to continue.
" I could not deal with the ` If it hurts, it means you're still alive` man. Too rigid. Too self-righteous. Funny, no, that a man who kills people for money is so sanctimonious? "
" And I'm a well known for having no sense of fair play, so you thought you'd come to me. Is that right? " Christie reasoned, her voice sharp.
Brad smiled infuriatingly, a smile Christie was tempted to slice off his face.
" You are very lovely when you are angry. I was right, Bayman is nowhere near as pretty as you. "
Seeing her tense, waiting for the slightest provocation to begin a fight, Brad sighed and shrugged.
" I need help. You I thought would give me advice. I did not think Bayman would. "
Mollified, Christie inclined her head, signalling a truce.
" I want to get back to my hotel and have a shower Brad. Come with me and we'll talk further. " Seeing him grin and begin to speak she cut him off angrily. " Come with me to my hotel, you pig, not my shower. "
" I was simply going to thank you for your courteous offer and overlook your slip. I am a gentleman you know. "
Christie snorted and turned the engine on as Brad climbed into the front seat beside her.
As she drove on, Brad fished a hip flask from his pocket and took a generous swig.
" Let me tell you, Christie my friend, it took some courage on my behalf to approach you. "
She flicked a glance at him.
" What, you thought I'd take your head off for asking for advice? "
" For following you and hiding in your car I thought you might. "
" Ah, for that I might still take your head off, " she agreed. " It is good manners in polite society to offer one's hip flask around you know. "
" How nice. I have never been included in polite society before. "
Agreeably, Brad handed the small silver flask to her. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, she took a small gulp. She spluttered as the liquid registered on her taste buds.
" Careful, " Brad admonished, taking the flask back quickly before she spilt it.
" That, " Christie spat, " is orange squash. Very weak orange squash at that. What happened to `I drink to the snow, I drink to the sand, I drink to the sidewalk`? "
Brad shrugged, not at all embarrassed.
" I didn't say I drank alcohol, " he countered reasonably.
" What kind of drunken boxer are you? " Christie demanded.
" A sober one. "
" Doesn't that defeat the purpose of being a drunken boxer? "
" Just the opposite. None of you took me seriously at the tournament. I heard you all refer to me as a drunk. " Christie, despite herself, blushed slightly. He waved a hand dismissively. " I took it as a compliment. I fought as a drunk and you believed I was a drunk. Yet I still very nearly won. "
Christie thought back.
" You were about third or fourth weren't you? "
" The ninjas. Who can beat them? " he answered philosophically. " I found what I was looking for. I am content. "
Her curiosity piqued, Christie couldn't help herself but probe further.
" And what were you looking for? "
Brad smiled slightly and turned to face out the windscreen. His eyes scanned the early morning suburbs.
" Not the same as you. "
Realising what he was referring to, Christie pursed her lips and sighed.
" Another one who worships at the feet of Helena Douglas, I see. "
Brad laughed lightly and turned back to her.
" Do not we all? She has achieved cult status. Me, I blame the singing. Who can resist a beautiful, talented woman like that who can break your heart and your legs? Perhaps you should learn a musical instrument and get a few followers yourself. "
Christie shook her head resolutely, irritated that he had detected the jealous note to her voice.
" I don't need followers, Brad. I'm fine by myself. "
" Ah, another affection-starved killer! What a cliché you have become my friend! "
She shook her head again and laughed coldly. She brushed a few strands of the strange white hair that had slipped into her eyes.
" Do you really think that? Do you really believe that I am affection- starved? Don't you think I can do very nicely for myself when I want to? "
" I believe you could have any one you want, " he answered, suddenly serious. Christie nodded, unselfconsciously.
" And therein lies the problem: I just don't want anyone. Like I said, I'm fine by myself. "
Brad laughed and clutched his hands to his chest theatrically.
" You wound me, beautiful lady! You cut me to the bone with your words! " He laughed again and turned to look out of the window.
" Do not concern yourself Christie, " he assured her, only half-serious, " I have understood your message. I am just a mere man, not enough to interest you. "
Once again, she found herself frustrated at the turn the conversation had taken. Why couldn't they have dumped the car and be back at the hotel by now? Why was she going to have to sit through at least another ten minutes of his mocking and teasing?
" Look, seeing as you've understood my message, " she answered sardonically, " why don't we get down to business? "
" What man could refuse such an offer? " he threw back.
Choosing to overlook the mock-lecherous tone of his voice, Christie continued, " What's the advice you need? "
He didn't answer for a few seconds and Christie could see how he was choosing his words carefully.
" A contract has been put out on a friend of mine. How can I stop it? "
Somewhat taken aback Christie thought deeply. She turned the car towards the garage and clicked the remote lock. The heavy metal door began to roll up slowly and noisily.
" Do you know who's been hired? " she asked.
" Not a clue, " he answered with a single shake of his head.
" Why'd anyone want to kill them? What have they been doing and who have they been upsetting? "
Christie parked the sleek sports car and climbed out. Brad followed her to the small black Corsa that also resided in the garage as he spoke.
" Now the answer to that is everything and everyone. They do a lot, go many places, meet many people. "
Christie raised her eyebrows and cast a glance at him as he settled into the little car beside her.
" You're making this easy for me I see. No details. How do you know they're not on my to-do list? "
Brad smiled broadly.
" They are not. "
" How do you know that? We might be on the way to dispatch your friend at this very moment. "
" Well, they're not at home right now. So we have time to talk about how to rescue them from whichever one of your colleagues is currently stalking them. "
The use of gender neutral phraseology suddenly registered with Christie. Brad had been very careful so far not to assign this friend a gender. A woman, no doubt. Someone from the tournament? That would explain why I hadn't been hired, I'd be regarded as too involved. Which girlfriend of his am I being worked to save? The thought rankled. He'd come all this way, tracked her down and been apparently very honest; all for this woman.
" So, tell me about this `friend` of yours? " Christie asked, forcing a friendly note into her voice as she reversed the different car out and reshut the garage door.
Brad became effusive, slapping a hand to his chest.
" Someone I care deeply for, very close to my heart. "
Her spike heels echoed through the city street as she pushed herself on. The black leather of her jacket stuck to her as a fine sheen of sweat accumulated on her pale skin. Barely a breeze ruffled her short, white hair.
She skidded to a halt beside an expensive-looking sports car. Not what she would have chosen herself but it had been provided by the client. Might as well use it. It would have to be dumped later, but hopefully not without some profit to be made from it. The wail of police sirens was growing louder and louder as she wrenched the door open and threw herself behind the wheel.
Immediately she felt her heart begin to slow as she was able to appraise her situation. Her bright blue eyes narrowed as she watched a police car stop at the end of the alley. Contemplatively, she watched the officers take up positions and start edging towards her.
She felt the ghost of a smile play at her lips as she started the ignition, thrust the car into gear and hurtled out towards the amassed police cars. Christie watched the dawning realisation spread across their faces as they hurriedly tried to move out of her path.
She sped on into the city and into the night. She spun the wheel expertly and turned into another street, and then another. It would be a few more minutes yet she calculated before they could get a helicopter to track her. She just had to get out of the city centre. Just a little further into the suburbs.
The sounds behind her became more and more distant. She allowed herself to sink back into the soft leather interior. A small sigh escaped her and she flicked her tongue over her full lips.
" A little sloppy, no? "
Instantly, Christie tensed. She cursed herself in her mind. Fool, damn fool. Didn't check the back of the car. Lesson number one. Still, she had made mistakes before, not many it's true, but she had made mistakes. She could recover this situation. Just pay attention to what's going on and think. If they wanted you dead they probably wouldn't be engaging in conversation. She reminded herself of the reassuring weight of the two guns against her sides.
" Sloppy? " she questioned neutrally. Scrutinising the back mirror, even throwing a glance over her shoulder, all she could get was a glimpse of green material.
" Well I thought assassins were meant to slip in and out quietly. Stealth and all that. And I'd say, by the look of all those police cars, that someone saw you. "
Despite herself, Christie felt nettled at the slur on her professional expertise.
" The information I was given was incorrect. "
" Ah, " the voice conceded.
There was silence for a few seconds, before they added,
" Still, I thought you'd check the back of the car before you got in. "
Christie's lips tightened. She fumed. In the midst of the shock and then insult, she realised she had missed something vital. Perhaps she was getting sloppy. She knew that voice. She knew it, but couldn't place it.
" Why don't you come out from behind the seats and discuss it with me, " she challenged. Her eyes flicked between watching the road and the rear view mirror.
" Perhaps I should. It is painful to be cramped up back here. I shall have back ache if I'm not careful, " the voice responded.
There was quiet for a few seconds.
" Well? " Christie demanded impatiently, when the stowaway still didn't show themselves.
" I am afraid, " the voice countered, slightly embarrassed.
" But I'm such a sloppy assassin, " Christie threw back sarcastically. " Surely you're not afraid of little, old, inept me? "
There was silence again.
" You sound a little angry. Perhaps I should stay back here. "
Tired of playing games, Christie slammed the brakes down. She threw her hands up off the steering wheel, frustrated. She shook her head and switched the ignition off.
" I'm tired, I'm dirty and I'm not in the mood for this, " she stated. " So you come out now or I come back there and get you out. "
Cautiously, the stowaway lifted their head. She watched the tall, oriental man unwind himself from the darkness of the back seat and sit up. His long white hair was secured into a plait. His dark eyes watched her carefully. The muscular build of his body was emphasised by the green shirt and dark jeans he was wearing.
" Tempting offer. " He tried a smile at her, hopefully.
She stared at him. Shock mingled with relief. And confusion, above everything else, confusion.
" Brad, " she stated. " Brad Wong. "
" You remember me! That is a good start. "
Christie stared up at the night sky and struggled for words.
" What.. Uh.. Just, what do you want? "
" Down to business, no messing about. You are very professional Christie. I take it all back. "
" No Brad, tell me now. What do you want? What are you doing in my car? How did you find me? And again, what do you want? "
Brad sat forward, the moonlight playing across his handsome features. She had never noticed he was good looking. Christie caught herself quickly. There were plenty of good looking men about she reminded herself and they were all too much trouble for someone in her line of work.
" I needed the advice of an assassin, " he said thoughtfully. Then he grinned suddenly. " You are an assassin, no? All those police officers are not chasing you down for parking tickets, I hope? Not that I would hope that you had killed someone you understand. Though it would not be my business to interfere in your chosen vocation. Simply it would be very embarrassing for me. "
Christie sat back and tried to take in this verbal onslaught. She was almost dizzy with fatigue and hunger. What with incorrect information and a very elusive target this had not been the easiest of missions. She had been stretched too far in the last few days. She needed rest. Not this drunk with verbal diarrhoea and beautiful eyes.
" Are you unwell? " she heard him ask solicitously as she closed her eyes for a moment. She felt his fingers brush lightly against her brow. Positive human contact. How long was it since she'd experienced that? Not strangulation or punches or kicks. Physical contact that didn't mean any harm. The suddenness of it knocked her.
" Take your hands off me or I'll do it for you, " she warned, her eyes flicking open again. Brad raised his hands in mock surrender.
" I'm sorry. "
Christie turned around to face him.
" So, you want advice huh? Isn't that what you said? "
" The advice of an assassin, yes. "
Christie met his gaze and held it.
" Why me? Why not.. Well, why not Bayman? "
" Bayman is not as pretty as you, " Brad offered winningly.
Seeing her bright eyes harden to steel, Brad felt forced to continue.
" I could not deal with the ` If it hurts, it means you're still alive` man. Too rigid. Too self-righteous. Funny, no, that a man who kills people for money is so sanctimonious? "
" And I'm a well known for having no sense of fair play, so you thought you'd come to me. Is that right? " Christie reasoned, her voice sharp.
Brad smiled infuriatingly, a smile Christie was tempted to slice off his face.
" You are very lovely when you are angry. I was right, Bayman is nowhere near as pretty as you. "
Seeing her tense, waiting for the slightest provocation to begin a fight, Brad sighed and shrugged.
" I need help. You I thought would give me advice. I did not think Bayman would. "
Mollified, Christie inclined her head, signalling a truce.
" I want to get back to my hotel and have a shower Brad. Come with me and we'll talk further. " Seeing him grin and begin to speak she cut him off angrily. " Come with me to my hotel, you pig, not my shower. "
" I was simply going to thank you for your courteous offer and overlook your slip. I am a gentleman you know. "
Christie snorted and turned the engine on as Brad climbed into the front seat beside her.
As she drove on, Brad fished a hip flask from his pocket and took a generous swig.
" Let me tell you, Christie my friend, it took some courage on my behalf to approach you. "
She flicked a glance at him.
" What, you thought I'd take your head off for asking for advice? "
" For following you and hiding in your car I thought you might. "
" Ah, for that I might still take your head off, " she agreed. " It is good manners in polite society to offer one's hip flask around you know. "
" How nice. I have never been included in polite society before. "
Agreeably, Brad handed the small silver flask to her. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, she took a small gulp. She spluttered as the liquid registered on her taste buds.
" Careful, " Brad admonished, taking the flask back quickly before she spilt it.
" That, " Christie spat, " is orange squash. Very weak orange squash at that. What happened to `I drink to the snow, I drink to the sand, I drink to the sidewalk`? "
Brad shrugged, not at all embarrassed.
" I didn't say I drank alcohol, " he countered reasonably.
" What kind of drunken boxer are you? " Christie demanded.
" A sober one. "
" Doesn't that defeat the purpose of being a drunken boxer? "
" Just the opposite. None of you took me seriously at the tournament. I heard you all refer to me as a drunk. " Christie, despite herself, blushed slightly. He waved a hand dismissively. " I took it as a compliment. I fought as a drunk and you believed I was a drunk. Yet I still very nearly won. "
Christie thought back.
" You were about third or fourth weren't you? "
" The ninjas. Who can beat them? " he answered philosophically. " I found what I was looking for. I am content. "
Her curiosity piqued, Christie couldn't help herself but probe further.
" And what were you looking for? "
Brad smiled slightly and turned to face out the windscreen. His eyes scanned the early morning suburbs.
" Not the same as you. "
Realising what he was referring to, Christie pursed her lips and sighed.
" Another one who worships at the feet of Helena Douglas, I see. "
Brad laughed lightly and turned back to her.
" Do not we all? She has achieved cult status. Me, I blame the singing. Who can resist a beautiful, talented woman like that who can break your heart and your legs? Perhaps you should learn a musical instrument and get a few followers yourself. "
Christie shook her head resolutely, irritated that he had detected the jealous note to her voice.
" I don't need followers, Brad. I'm fine by myself. "
" Ah, another affection-starved killer! What a cliché you have become my friend! "
She shook her head again and laughed coldly. She brushed a few strands of the strange white hair that had slipped into her eyes.
" Do you really think that? Do you really believe that I am affection- starved? Don't you think I can do very nicely for myself when I want to? "
" I believe you could have any one you want, " he answered, suddenly serious. Christie nodded, unselfconsciously.
" And therein lies the problem: I just don't want anyone. Like I said, I'm fine by myself. "
Brad laughed and clutched his hands to his chest theatrically.
" You wound me, beautiful lady! You cut me to the bone with your words! " He laughed again and turned to look out of the window.
" Do not concern yourself Christie, " he assured her, only half-serious, " I have understood your message. I am just a mere man, not enough to interest you. "
Once again, she found herself frustrated at the turn the conversation had taken. Why couldn't they have dumped the car and be back at the hotel by now? Why was she going to have to sit through at least another ten minutes of his mocking and teasing?
" Look, seeing as you've understood my message, " she answered sardonically, " why don't we get down to business? "
" What man could refuse such an offer? " he threw back.
Choosing to overlook the mock-lecherous tone of his voice, Christie continued, " What's the advice you need? "
He didn't answer for a few seconds and Christie could see how he was choosing his words carefully.
" A contract has been put out on a friend of mine. How can I stop it? "
Somewhat taken aback Christie thought deeply. She turned the car towards the garage and clicked the remote lock. The heavy metal door began to roll up slowly and noisily.
" Do you know who's been hired? " she asked.
" Not a clue, " he answered with a single shake of his head.
" Why'd anyone want to kill them? What have they been doing and who have they been upsetting? "
Christie parked the sleek sports car and climbed out. Brad followed her to the small black Corsa that also resided in the garage as he spoke.
" Now the answer to that is everything and everyone. They do a lot, go many places, meet many people. "
Christie raised her eyebrows and cast a glance at him as he settled into the little car beside her.
" You're making this easy for me I see. No details. How do you know they're not on my to-do list? "
Brad smiled broadly.
" They are not. "
" How do you know that? We might be on the way to dispatch your friend at this very moment. "
" Well, they're not at home right now. So we have time to talk about how to rescue them from whichever one of your colleagues is currently stalking them. "
The use of gender neutral phraseology suddenly registered with Christie. Brad had been very careful so far not to assign this friend a gender. A woman, no doubt. Someone from the tournament? That would explain why I hadn't been hired, I'd be regarded as too involved. Which girlfriend of his am I being worked to save? The thought rankled. He'd come all this way, tracked her down and been apparently very honest; all for this woman.
" So, tell me about this `friend` of yours? " Christie asked, forcing a friendly note into her voice as she reversed the different car out and reshut the garage door.
Brad became effusive, slapping a hand to his chest.
" Someone I care deeply for, very close to my heart. "