looking directly away from Alyssa, and then to the back
again.
She crept
forward a bit farther, until she was barely ten feet from him. She pondered
attacking the man and rendering him unconscious but decided against it. The
odds were only about fifty-fifty that she could do it before he put up any
struggle at all; if she lost that bet she might as well just walk up to a
maximum security federal penitentiary and check in.
The guard
turned again, and Alyssa worried seriously about a heart attack as his gaze
fell on her. He looked directly at her – so directly that she squinted her eyes
nearly shut to hide the whites.
Then he rotated
to the front.
She breathed
again and moved forward while he wasn't looking – as quickly as she could
without making a sound. He turned away from the front yard, looking the other
way. While he did, Alyssa dropped herself over the edge of the roof toward the
back yard, hanging on by her fingertips. From there, she dropped catlike onto
the ledge of the bathroom window.
Chambers never
knew how soon the guard turned his gaze to the back yard again. She was below
the roof by then, safely concealed.
Perched
precariously on the ledge of the bathroom window, clinging to the windowsill
with just the fingertips of her left hand, she reached down to place the palm
of her right hand flat against the window pane. Slowly, relying on friction
between her skin and the glass, she worked the window open.
That was the
advantage of knowing the terrain. Matt never latched this window; he opened it
in the morning to let the steam out when he took a shower.
Once the window
was open she squirmed in. Furtively, she opened the shower door, got inside,
and slid the door almost closed, leaving just a crack to peek through. Then she
waited.
It seemed like
hours. It may actually have been hours. She had no way of keeping track of the
time – her watch had been destroyed in her swim through the Potomac that
morning. Sometimes she stood; sometimes she leaned against the back wall of the
shower. At one point, she had to fight back the giggles when she considered the
notion of actually taking a shower – it seemed like forever since she'd had
one, and it would be nice to feel clean.
‘ And how did
you catch the assassin, Special Agent? We found her taking a shower in the
midst of ten FBI guards .’
Someone came
into the bathroom. Peeking through the door, Alyssa saw that it was a federal
agent. At least it wasn't Matt. The agent was wearing a suit and a
flesh-colored microphone. She remained on guard the entire time he did his
business, in case he turned around.
Another agent came
in and peed. Then a third. The fourth man, finally, was Matt. He was wearing
just his boxers, his brown hair was askew, and he'd obviously been asleep.
Alyssa let him
finish going, averting her eyes. But when he finished, she slid the opaque shower door open silently. She stepped out, wrapped her hand over
his mouth, then leaned in and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.
"Please
don't fight me Matt. Don't make this harder than it already is."
As usual, the
first reaction was panicked jerking about. Then he froze. She lifted her hand a
millimeter away from his mouth, and Matt whispered, " Lyss ?"
No one else
ever called her Lyss . It made him feel more intimate
to have his own nickname for her.
"Yes. We
need to talk."
"Holy...
You're... I mean you... did you...? Jeez, the FBI..."
" Shhh . We need to get out of here."
"But
Alyssa... did you do it?"
She whispered,
"Of course not, don't be stupid. We can talk once we get out!"
"Yeah,
well, you managed to sneak into my bathroom past half a dozen Secret Service
agents. That makes you seem a lot like this crazy ninja assassin they say you
are."
"I'm not a
ninja, I'm not an assassin, but I am very good at sneaking – a skill which will
be wasted, I might add, if the feds start to wonder what's taking you so long
in here. "
"The only
question, Matt, is whether you're going
again.
She crept
forward a bit farther, until she was barely ten feet from him. She pondered
attacking the man and rendering him unconscious but decided against it. The
odds were only about fifty-fifty that she could do it before he put up any
struggle at all; if she lost that bet she might as well just walk up to a
maximum security federal penitentiary and check in.
The guard
turned again, and Alyssa worried seriously about a heart attack as his gaze
fell on her. He looked directly at her – so directly that she squinted her eyes
nearly shut to hide the whites.
Then he rotated
to the front.
She breathed
again and moved forward while he wasn't looking – as quickly as she could
without making a sound. He turned away from the front yard, looking the other
way. While he did, Alyssa dropped herself over the edge of the roof toward the
back yard, hanging on by her fingertips. From there, she dropped catlike onto
the ledge of the bathroom window.
Chambers never
knew how soon the guard turned his gaze to the back yard again. She was below
the roof by then, safely concealed.
Perched
precariously on the ledge of the bathroom window, clinging to the windowsill
with just the fingertips of her left hand, she reached down to place the palm
of her right hand flat against the window pane. Slowly, relying on friction
between her skin and the glass, she worked the window open.
That was the
advantage of knowing the terrain. Matt never latched this window; he opened it
in the morning to let the steam out when he took a shower.
Once the window
was open she squirmed in. Furtively, she opened the shower door, got inside,
and slid the door almost closed, leaving just a crack to peek through. Then she
waited.
It seemed like
hours. It may actually have been hours. She had no way of keeping track of the
time – her watch had been destroyed in her swim through the Potomac that
morning. Sometimes she stood; sometimes she leaned against the back wall of the
shower. At one point, she had to fight back the giggles when she considered the
notion of actually taking a shower – it seemed like forever since she'd had
one, and it would be nice to feel clean.
‘ And how did
you catch the assassin, Special Agent? We found her taking a shower in the
midst of ten FBI guards .’
Someone came
into the bathroom. Peeking through the door, Alyssa saw that it was a federal
agent. At least it wasn't Matt. The agent was wearing a suit and a
flesh-colored microphone. She remained on guard the entire time he did his
business, in case he turned around.
Another agent came
in and peed. Then a third. The fourth man, finally, was Matt. He was wearing
just his boxers, his brown hair was askew, and he'd obviously been asleep.
Alyssa let him
finish going, averting her eyes. But when he finished, she slid the opaque shower door open silently. She stepped out, wrapped her hand over
his mouth, then leaned in and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.
"Please
don't fight me Matt. Don't make this harder than it already is."
As usual, the
first reaction was panicked jerking about. Then he froze. She lifted her hand a
millimeter away from his mouth, and Matt whispered, " Lyss ?"
No one else
ever called her Lyss . It made him feel more intimate
to have his own nickname for her.
"Yes. We
need to talk."
"Holy...
You're... I mean you... did you...? Jeez, the FBI..."
" Shhh . We need to get out of here."
"But
Alyssa... did you do it?"
She whispered,
"Of course not, don't be stupid. We can talk once we get out!"
"Yeah,
well, you managed to sneak into my bathroom past half a dozen Secret Service
agents. That makes you seem a lot like this crazy ninja assassin they say you
are."
"I'm not a
ninja, I'm not an assassin, but I am very good at sneaking – a skill which will
be wasted, I might add, if the feds start to wonder what's taking you so long
in here. "
"The only
question, Matt, is whether you're going
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