Innocent in Las Vegas by A. R. Winters, Amazon.com (firm) Page A

ordering the pancakes and a mushroom omelet.
    I went back to my room and busied myself looking over my case notes till half past seven, before hailing a cab outside.
    I got to Carla’s a few minutes early and was incredibly glad I wasn’t late. Carla was a short, slender woman, but she emanated a fierce, intense energy that would make any thug in a back alley run away from her. She could have been anywhere between thirty and sixty and had the agility of a teenager, teamed with a strong French accent.
    She introduced me to her plastic dummy, Kevin, and showed me a few basic moves. Kicking the groin, bringing a knee up to the groin, punching the groin. Lots of unpleasant things to do to the groin. It was followed up with unpleasant things to do to the eyes, the little fingers, the neck and the forearms.
    Next, Carla introduced me to her assistant, Louis, and showed me how to get out of various holds. Louis was wearing street clothes for this section, and I practiced the moves with him for a few minutes.
    After that, Louis changed into a fat suit, and it was time to practice all those dangerous groin-attack moves on him. I wondered how much Carla was paying him for it, and tried to keep my punches and pokes mild.
    “You must be angrier,” Carla urged me. “You must remember that this man will rape you, kill you. Think of the ex-boyfriend that said you were ugly. Or the woman who stole the dress you liked from the sample sale. Think of all those things that make you angry. Now focus on Louis, who is weak and terrible and trying to kill you. Also he has just told his girlfriend that she is fat.”
    I punched Louis in the gut and he fell backwards.
    “It is because of the suit,” Carla explained, “In real life he will bend forward from the waist, and after that you can kick him in the groin or punch him in the neck and run away. Remember to always run away.”
    I thought about Mr. Beard and the way he screamed. I felt reasonably confident I could make him scream like that by using my bare hands now. I just had to remember that he’d told his girlfriend she was fat.
    Carla gave me a timetable for her classes and insisted I come again to improve my skills. “Otherwise,” she said, “You will be the weakling, the girl who cannot fight.”
    I nodded and thanked Louis, who smiled at me.
    “I felt nothing,” he said, “You must punch harder.”
    Stone picked me up from the hotel at exactly ten. I wasn’t surprised that he was so punctual – he seemed to me like one of those obsessive types who plan their travel time down to the last second, using fancy software to calculate drive times compared to current traffic conditions. Or maybe he’d just parked round the corner and camped out in his car for the last five minutes.
    “I’ve upgraded your locks,” he said, “So it’s safer now.”
    “So no-one can break in?”
    “A skilled guy can pick just about any lock, and you can buy laser cutters that’ll cut through any lock.”
    “Well I feel much better, thanks.” Once again, the sarcasm seemed to miss its target.
    “When you’re inside, you can use the new bolts to be safer. You’ll have time to call 911 if someone starts cutting with a laser. Or you can use your new Krav Maga skills to punch them and then run away.”
    I sighed. It was better than nothing.
    Stone looked over at me and said, “From now on, stop wearing fancy purses. Get something you can sling over your shoulder. When you enter your condo, push open the door from the corridor. Look around, then walk in. If the lounge is empty, check the bedroom, then the bathroom. If you’re careful, you can spot any intruder. Run for the door, run down the fire escape, and wait on the next floor.”
    I wished I didn’t have to take orders from Stone, but I didn’t say anything. His plan sounded good. He parked the car and we went upstairs, and he demonstrated to me how to open the door and look around.
    While he was showing me how to peer around the