alone. The voice has even more, both in quality and tone. I’ll accept that you are Sean Price. For now. Are you scared?”
“No. Amused, really.”
“By someone holding a gun to your face? You are either insane or have a deathwish.”
“Actually, I was thinking how foolish I’ll feel getting shot by such a beautiful woman.”
Emily smiled. “You are most certainly not from the Planning Commission, sir.”
“Honestly, I’m not worried you’ll shoot me on purpose so much as the gun will go off because you have no idea how to handle that damn thing,” Price said.
“Do you see that wall, Mr. Price?” Watson pointed across the room at the letters VR written in the wall by expertly placed bullets. “I’d dare say I know a thing or two about firearms, wouldn’t you?”
"Big fan of deceased monarchs, are we?" He looked very carefully at the bullet holes in the wall and then smiled back at Emily. The bullet holes were far too small to have come from such a large weapon. "That's a Webley Mk IV, is it not? That pistol probably saw some action in the Boer War."
Watson glanced down at the pistol and cleared her throat. "I’ll ask you one question at a time, Mr. Price. If you lie to me at all, I will begin shooting you in various extremities. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly,” Price said.
“Are you here to kill me?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Watson took a long time studying his face. Finally, she nodded. “Who do you work for?”
Price thought the question over as he looked from the gun to Emily’s face. “I work for the government. And we are, in our own way, a Planning Office. What sort of danger are you in?”
“I’ll do the questioning,” Emily said. She opened her mouth to speak when the sound of Wiggins bellowing downstairs drowned her out. He slammed the front door shut with such force that it shook the floor beneath them.
“It’s them, Miss Watson!” Wiggins shouted.
Emily jumped from the chair, terror in her eyes. “Oh God,” she said. “We have to go.”
Price ripped his Walther PPK from his shoulder holster and aimed it at the door. “It’s who, and how many of them are there?”
“Follow me,” she said, racing toward the back of the house. “We have to get to the roof!”
Muffled gunshots echoed from the bottom of the steps, the thunk of bullets shattering wood louder than the shots themselves. Price stuck his head through the apartment door and looked down, seeing Wiggins sprawled out, face down at the entrance. The wall at the top of the steps exploded near Price’s head. Silencers? he thought. Two more rounds nearly hit him. Price pointed his weapon over the top of the steps and fired blindly until his magazine ran empty.
He ducked back behind the door and slammed it shut, bolting it as he raced into the back room after Emily. He fished in his pocket for a spare clip, realizing he'd not bothered to bring one. "Idiot," he hissed. Bullets flew through the apartment’s front door, spraying wood fragments across the room.
Emily yanked a rope from the rear bedroom’s ceiling that released a ladder from a hatch in the roof. She hiked up her skirt and headed up the ladder, calling out, “Hurry up!”
Price looked back at the front door, trying to focus on the men trying to break it down and not the silk underwear between Emily's legs. Blue. Thin. He tucked his useless weapon into his belt and climbed after her.
The roof of 221B Baker Street connected to several houses on either side. Emily scurried across the flat tar surface toward the building’s edge, when a doorway burst open from the other end of the rooftop. Two men came through, guns ready.
"Throw me the Webley!" Price shouted.
Silent bullets skipped across the black roof, leaving score marks all around them. Price ran toward her, shouting
“No. Amused, really.”
“By someone holding a gun to your face? You are either insane or have a deathwish.”
“Actually, I was thinking how foolish I’ll feel getting shot by such a beautiful woman.”
Emily smiled. “You are most certainly not from the Planning Commission, sir.”
“Honestly, I’m not worried you’ll shoot me on purpose so much as the gun will go off because you have no idea how to handle that damn thing,” Price said.
“Do you see that wall, Mr. Price?” Watson pointed across the room at the letters VR written in the wall by expertly placed bullets. “I’d dare say I know a thing or two about firearms, wouldn’t you?”
"Big fan of deceased monarchs, are we?" He looked very carefully at the bullet holes in the wall and then smiled back at Emily. The bullet holes were far too small to have come from such a large weapon. "That's a Webley Mk IV, is it not? That pistol probably saw some action in the Boer War."
Watson glanced down at the pistol and cleared her throat. "I’ll ask you one question at a time, Mr. Price. If you lie to me at all, I will begin shooting you in various extremities. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly,” Price said.
“Are you here to kill me?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Watson took a long time studying his face. Finally, she nodded. “Who do you work for?”
Price thought the question over as he looked from the gun to Emily’s face. “I work for the government. And we are, in our own way, a Planning Office. What sort of danger are you in?”
“I’ll do the questioning,” Emily said. She opened her mouth to speak when the sound of Wiggins bellowing downstairs drowned her out. He slammed the front door shut with such force that it shook the floor beneath them.
“It’s them, Miss Watson!” Wiggins shouted.
Emily jumped from the chair, terror in her eyes. “Oh God,” she said. “We have to go.”
Price ripped his Walther PPK from his shoulder holster and aimed it at the door. “It’s who, and how many of them are there?”
“Follow me,” she said, racing toward the back of the house. “We have to get to the roof!”
Muffled gunshots echoed from the bottom of the steps, the thunk of bullets shattering wood louder than the shots themselves. Price stuck his head through the apartment door and looked down, seeing Wiggins sprawled out, face down at the entrance. The wall at the top of the steps exploded near Price’s head. Silencers? he thought. Two more rounds nearly hit him. Price pointed his weapon over the top of the steps and fired blindly until his magazine ran empty.
He ducked back behind the door and slammed it shut, bolting it as he raced into the back room after Emily. He fished in his pocket for a spare clip, realizing he'd not bothered to bring one. "Idiot," he hissed. Bullets flew through the apartment’s front door, spraying wood fragments across the room.
Emily yanked a rope from the rear bedroom’s ceiling that released a ladder from a hatch in the roof. She hiked up her skirt and headed up the ladder, calling out, “Hurry up!”
Price looked back at the front door, trying to focus on the men trying to break it down and not the silk underwear between Emily's legs. Blue. Thin. He tucked his useless weapon into his belt and climbed after her.
The roof of 221B Baker Street connected to several houses on either side. Emily scurried across the flat tar surface toward the building’s edge, when a doorway burst open from the other end of the rooftop. Two men came through, guns ready.
"Throw me the Webley!" Price shouted.
Silent bullets skipped across the black roof, leaving score marks all around them. Price ran toward her, shouting
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