Mina Cortez: From Bouquets to Bullets by Jeffrey Cook Page A

brought flowers, she reminded
herself.
    A stronger taste of aluminum and hint of
burning in her sinuses told her to stay still and out of the way.
She ignored it. This was her fault, and worse, people's lives were
in danger. She assessed the situation from her hiding spot, peeking
around the corner. Two had their guns out, one pointed at the girl,
the other with a pistol held up, simply demonstrating its presence.
The last had his hand under his jacket, but hadn't drawn yet. Two
of the people in the shop only had to drop or dive to have cover,
but the girl was out in the open.
    Mina moved around the shelving unit to get
close to the one with his gun on the girl while he argued with the
woman. When she felt she was close enough, she grabbed one of the
display cases and tossed it out on the floor.
    Hearing the noise, the man spun. He got
halfway through demanding to know who was there when Mina burst
into motion. Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, Mina got
to his wrist. She applied a wrist lock even as she lifted his arm
up and away. His finger squeezed reflexively, sending a bullet
whining past her ear. He never got off a second shot before she
dislocated his wrist with a twist, then disarmed him with her other
hand, breaking his thumb and pulling the gun away. Releasing her
grip, she finished him with a quick pistol whipping with his own
gun.
    Before he'd hit the floor, she was on to the
next. This one didn't even get a shot off before she'd taken the
two steps to reach him and brought an open hand up under his chin
in a perfect sapping blow. As he was losing consciousness, Mina
shoved him towards the third, directing his fall to occupy the last
assailant. She got to that one before he could get his pistol
entirely out, catching hold of his wrist. A quick impulse ran her
through the basics of the stance he was starting to shift into. She
wasn't sure what style of kung fu he knew yet, but she was sure he
had training. Keeping his hand trapped in his jacket with one hand,
she kicked at the inside of his ankle, rolling it, putting him off
balance. As he started to stumble, Mina directed it, her free hand
grabbing the hair at the back of his head and slamming his head
down on the corner of the wooden vid-store counter.
    Without thinking about it, she took all of
the guns, wiped her prints off, and set them on the counter. That
was the point she realized there were four shop employees looking
at her, stunned.
    “Call the police,” she instructed firmly. As
she was doing that, she heard a buzzing from the oldest man's
wrist. A few moments later, there was another voice asking what was
holding them up. She repeated her instructions one more time, then
followed a hunch. She left the store, and its bewildered owners,
and grabbed her bike. Then she headed towards the back alley.
    Two buildings down, she spotted the delivery
driver, holding up his own wrist near his mouth. He obviously still
received no response. With a paranoid glance around, he noticed
Mina, then yanked the truck door open and jumped in. The engine was
still running, and he quickly tore off down the alley.
    Cursing herself, Mina took off after the
truck. She could still feel the burning sensation in her sinuses,
but the chip still let her call up all of her new knowledge of
street maps. She was pretty sure by now that the delivery truck was
the failsafe measure for the people running the protection scheme.
If something went wrong, duck down one alley, and they disappear
into a truck just making its rounds. She'd already drawn too much
attention, but hoped if all the thugs could be brought in on other
charges, the director or Agent Park could at least have an excuse
to interrogate them about what was going on at Lucky.
    She quickly reasoned that he would be headed
for the freeway. It would allow him to put some distance between
himself and pursuit. The local streets had too many people
wandering and would require frequent stops. She didn't think she'd
be