former gunnery sergeant in the US Marine Corps, now a self-defense instructor in Fairfax, VA.
She took the remaining six floors two steps at a time and hit the landing sweating and breathing hard. Eschewing the dramatic entrance, she listened at the door. She heard nothing, so she cracked it open.
Gerrold sat at the bench in front of the nurse's station, reading manga. How children's entertainment became an American pastime she'd never figured out. His eyes twitched upward when the door moved, and his hand slid into his jacket. She couldn't fight a gun at thirty feet, not anymore.
She let the door close, stood just to the side, and counted. The Psychology of Security Forces textbook she'd penned for the Tokyo Police Department put a curious guard's investigation time at anything under two minutes. After that, they lay in ambush.
A hundred and seven seconds after she'd jostled the door, Gerrold opened it. She put one knife under his chin, just hard enough to draw blood, and the other against his eye. He blinked and winced as the razor-sharp blade sliced his eyelid, deep enough to hurt but not enough to bleed, a paper cut from five inches of steel.
"Step out."
He stepped into the stairwell, eyes wide.
"Remove your firearm with your left index finger and thumb, and drop it on the floor."
It hit the tile with a metallic clatter.
She pulled the blade from his eye a half centimeter, enough to let him blink. He did, eyes watering, and she took the opportunity to body-block him against the wall opposite the railing. The knife remained under his jaw. These Americans stood so damned tall.
"You know who I am?"
"Yes," he said through clenched teeth.
She lifted his chin a little further with the blade. "You know how quickly I can kill you?"
"Yes."
"What is your intent with my daughter?"
He hesitated, so she drew a line down his cheek with the other knife. He hissed as blood welled along the cut, and tears flowed from his eyes.
"What is your intent with my daughter?"
He blubbered. "It's not about you. You're just means to an end."
She lowered the other blade just enough to let him speak clearly. "Continue."
"Ona doesn't care about you. Rowley's the end-game. You're just a stepping stone."
"What are your plans for Kazuko?"
He closed his eyes, hard.
"What are your plans for Kazuko?"
He swallowed. "We . . . we're going to kill you both."
Sakura jammed the knife up through his mouth into his frontal lobe and yanked it out before he had a chance to twitch. He gave her a confused, pained look. She wiped the blade on his arm as his eyes glazed, then she stepped back, letting him tumble down the concrete stairs.
She called Matt. It kicked to voicemail without ringing.
She picked up Gerrold's weapon and racked the slide, snatching a round from the air as it flew from the chamber. A Sig-Sauer P229, the .40 caliber had more kick than she liked, but it beat a knife nineteen times out of twenty. She didn't bother checking the body for extra magazines and instead shouldered through the door, weapon raised.
The head nurse smiled in recognition and then screamed. She ducked behind the desk as Sakura stalked toward her, clearing corners on the approach to Kazuko's room.
Burns poked his head out of Kazuko's room, a confused look on his face. Sakura pulled the trigger twice and the weapon boomed. Red mist puffed out the back of his head and he crumpled to the floor.
Ears ringing from the too-loud reports, she approached the room on the balls of her feet, careful to make no sound.
"Isuji Sakura!" Ona's young voice shook with nervous energy. "I have your daughter."
"Is she alive?"
"For the mom—"
Sakura rounded the corner and took in the scene. Ona half-crouched behind the bed, holding her daughter in a headlock, cheek to cheek, a shaky hand pointing her pistol at the doorway.
"—ent."
Sakura shot Ona twice in the face, the pinprick holes marring her cheek and eye almost simultaneously. Kazuko screamed. Blossom closed the
She took the remaining six floors two steps at a time and hit the landing sweating and breathing hard. Eschewing the dramatic entrance, she listened at the door. She heard nothing, so she cracked it open.
Gerrold sat at the bench in front of the nurse's station, reading manga. How children's entertainment became an American pastime she'd never figured out. His eyes twitched upward when the door moved, and his hand slid into his jacket. She couldn't fight a gun at thirty feet, not anymore.
She let the door close, stood just to the side, and counted. The Psychology of Security Forces textbook she'd penned for the Tokyo Police Department put a curious guard's investigation time at anything under two minutes. After that, they lay in ambush.
A hundred and seven seconds after she'd jostled the door, Gerrold opened it. She put one knife under his chin, just hard enough to draw blood, and the other against his eye. He blinked and winced as the razor-sharp blade sliced his eyelid, deep enough to hurt but not enough to bleed, a paper cut from five inches of steel.
"Step out."
He stepped into the stairwell, eyes wide.
"Remove your firearm with your left index finger and thumb, and drop it on the floor."
It hit the tile with a metallic clatter.
She pulled the blade from his eye a half centimeter, enough to let him blink. He did, eyes watering, and she took the opportunity to body-block him against the wall opposite the railing. The knife remained under his jaw. These Americans stood so damned tall.
"You know who I am?"
"Yes," he said through clenched teeth.
She lifted his chin a little further with the blade. "You know how quickly I can kill you?"
"Yes."
"What is your intent with my daughter?"
He hesitated, so she drew a line down his cheek with the other knife. He hissed as blood welled along the cut, and tears flowed from his eyes.
"What is your intent with my daughter?"
He blubbered. "It's not about you. You're just means to an end."
She lowered the other blade just enough to let him speak clearly. "Continue."
"Ona doesn't care about you. Rowley's the end-game. You're just a stepping stone."
"What are your plans for Kazuko?"
He closed his eyes, hard.
"What are your plans for Kazuko?"
He swallowed. "We . . . we're going to kill you both."
Sakura jammed the knife up through his mouth into his frontal lobe and yanked it out before he had a chance to twitch. He gave her a confused, pained look. She wiped the blade on his arm as his eyes glazed, then she stepped back, letting him tumble down the concrete stairs.
She called Matt. It kicked to voicemail without ringing.
She picked up Gerrold's weapon and racked the slide, snatching a round from the air as it flew from the chamber. A Sig-Sauer P229, the .40 caliber had more kick than she liked, but it beat a knife nineteen times out of twenty. She didn't bother checking the body for extra magazines and instead shouldered through the door, weapon raised.
The head nurse smiled in recognition and then screamed. She ducked behind the desk as Sakura stalked toward her, clearing corners on the approach to Kazuko's room.
Burns poked his head out of Kazuko's room, a confused look on his face. Sakura pulled the trigger twice and the weapon boomed. Red mist puffed out the back of his head and he crumpled to the floor.
Ears ringing from the too-loud reports, she approached the room on the balls of her feet, careful to make no sound.
"Isuji Sakura!" Ona's young voice shook with nervous energy. "I have your daughter."
"Is she alive?"
"For the mom—"
Sakura rounded the corner and took in the scene. Ona half-crouched behind the bed, holding her daughter in a headlock, cheek to cheek, a shaky hand pointing her pistol at the doorway.
"—ent."
Sakura shot Ona twice in the face, the pinprick holes marring her cheek and eye almost simultaneously. Kazuko screamed. Blossom closed the
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