Executive Firepower

Suddenly, Lockhart felt the pressure of gun barrel directly on the spot behind his left ear.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pull the trigger,” said a pleasant, but very businesslike female voice.

“I already have,” Lockhart replied, keeping his eyes closed.

“Come again?” she said, a definite edge to her tone.

“You should have fired already, if there wasn’t a reason not to,” Lockhart said calmly. “The people back there didn’t hesitate.”

“True enough,” she said.

“Well, then?” He knew he might be pushing her, for the pressure applied to the socket behind his ear had not lessened one bit.

He could sense her movement, when the weapon lifted and touched his lips.

“Make like it’s a nipple,” she ordered.

Lockhart did as he was told, opening his mouth and settling his dry lips on the cold blue steel. He opened his eyes then and looked at her.

Her hair was cropped short, but it looked dyed-black, from a bottle. No, he decided, it was a wig. He couldn’t see her eyes, which were hidden behind a pair of expensive reflective sunglasses. However, taking a slow appraisal of her body gave him pause. This woman was blessed with a stripper’s body, even though she wore black fatigue pants and a black athletic top. In fact, Lockhart decided just right then, she was incredibly well put together. He felt beads of sweat dribble down his back.

“What now?” Lockhart asked, mumbling the words around the obstruction in his mouth. “They’ll be here soon.”

There was no doubt that his captor was looking at him intently, for her face was pulled tight, the muscles twitching at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, the gun was withdrawn and she pulled at his collar. “With me. Now!”

Several more smoke grenades went off, hiding them in dense clouds of bluish-white smoke.

Lockhart was no fool and didn’t delay following her. This lease on life was completely unexpected and he was not about to lose the opportunity to live a little longer. He would decide about trusting her later, if there was a later.

She ducked through the last open air-vent and Lockhart followed under the low roof to discover a rope leading downward. He pulled the grating shut and latched it. She was already halfway down the shaft and he scrambled after her, lowering himself by hand, legs dangling freely. His biceps were flexed to the max as he made a rapid descent. Down they went, many stories deeper than the building was tall.

His boots hit solid surface, but it was pitch black. He didn’t move and kept perfectly still. He felt a hand on his back and she pressed herself against him. “Shh,” she whispered, feeling his muscles go taut.

The echoes of running boots vibrated down the shaft, as people went past their escape route. They didn’t even slow down, several shouts of desperation spurring them forward. Then, quite distinctly, the rattle of someone testing the air-vent grating echoed down to them.

The woman’s hands had found their way around Lockhart’s waist and her head was resting on him with something akin to affection. He was baffled, but stayed perfectly still, his head cocked – listening.

“We’ll wait, Mr. Lockhart,” she whispered. “We need to be certain.” She pulled away and he heard her disconnect the rope, which came down to land by his feet.

“Okay,” he replied quietly.

She knew his name. Normally, that would not have been a good thing. Yet his stomach was calm. If she was setting him up, then this woman was the best, for he felt completely safe in her presence.

They stayed motionless for several more hours and it was a good thing too. MESA’s ambushers doubled back several times, scouring the rooftops. He heard those helicopters too, though they could have been just scheduled fly-overs.

“Now for the hard part,” her voice came out of the darkness. “We need to get you out of the city.”

“I’m in your hands, Ms…” He waited.

“I shouldn’t tell you, Mr. Lockhart,” she said.

“But?”

“But, since I just went against orders and didn’t wax your butt,” she went on. “Perhaps I will think of something you can call me.”

“How about Babe?” he asked jovially.

“I don’t think you’ve earned the right to call me that,” she said. “Yet.”

He found himself grinning, though she couldn’t see his expression. “Let’s skip titles. ‘Hey you’ is good enough.”

“Based on your smile, Mr. Lockhart, I perhaps should be wary.” The woman had sensed the smile, felt it.

He gave a start.

“I can hear it in your voice,” she said. “It sounded like you were smiling. Just call me Kiki.”

He nodded. “You have good ears.”

“I look great in heels too,” she giggled.