I really needed another excuse to post so I could mention International Ball Dropping Day, and I was inspired by Fal's lovely story to share a twiddle of one of mine. I have a fair collection of these stories, but I'll post the intro to my spy story in honour of Fal.
Lying in the shadows, breathing evenly, Sofia watched the blue door intently through the scope of her sniper rifle. She was ready. Any time now, that door would open and he would step out. She heard a faint click and focused all her awareness on the door, then slowly let out her breath. Her heart beat faster. André had no inkling he’d been traced, had no security team because he always worked alone. He was a sitting duck.
A sudden weight on Sofia's back crushed the breath out of her while a gloved hand covered her mouth and pinched her nose. She went instantly limp, then thrust her body up and backwards, taking advantage of the momentary surprise she had caused her assailant. As he started to roll off to one side, she jerked her body out from under him in the other direction, swinging her rifle up from the ground and around into the side of his face with a sharp CRACK! against his temple.
Sofia sprang to her feet, rifle trained on the man's prostrate form as soon as she was standing. He lay face down, unmoving.
“Turn over,” she ordered coldly.
He lay motionless.
“As you like,” she said. She stepped forward and pressed the barrel of her rifle into the back of his neck.
The man stirred with a moan, shaking his head slightly and began to roll over.
“Not so fast,” she said, stepping back. “First, I want your hands where I can see them.”
He stopped moving and brought both hands out from underneath his body, spreading them out to the sides.
“That’s right,” she said. “Now, hands up above your head and roll slowly.”
The man carefully straightened his arms over his head and rolled slowly to the side. Sofia jumped forward and kicked away the pistol that had been lying beneath him. As he came face-up, Sofia's breath caught in her throat, but in the back of her mind, she had really expected it. Who else could have foiled her? André was good, she admitted to herself. Very good. She tightened her grip on the rifle.
“Up!” she ordered. “And keep your hands in sight.”
André rose fluidly to his feet and smiled at her. It was a disarming smile. His clear blue eyes had a teasing, confident look in them. She felt an unexpected lurch in her stomach. Her finger tensed on the trigger but would not tighten.
Change of plan.
© Candace Mahoney 2006