Cristelle Comby - Red Lies

“What did you say?” she hollered, loud enough to be heard by everyone and anyone within walking distance. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I will not sleep with you for money.”

It was hard to tell what surprised the plump businessman more: the gin and tonic that was dripping from his face or the woman’s impromptu outburst. Raising both hands up in a placating gesture, he tried stammering an apology, but never got past a mix of ‘uh’ and ‘I’.

Sofiya gave him no time to become more coherent. Stepping back from him, she yelled, “Get your hands off me, you pervert!”

“Everything all right, Miss?” Serov asked as he came to her aid. Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the poor man from behind. Acting as if he were trying to prevent him from assaulting his victim further, he got a good grasp on the Casanova wannabe.

That seemed to shake the man out of his stupor, and he bellowed, “Le’me go, you prick!” even as he tried fending off Serov. “I haven’t done anything.”

The Soviet agent may have been a good head shorter than this Casanova, but he was no amateur, and he’d knocked out men twice his size before without breaking a sweat. He gave as good as he got, elbowed the businessman in the guts, and sent him flying to the side.

Casanova landed on the nearest table with a crash and sent drinks and peanuts flying. But Serov wasn’t finished with him, and he lunged at him, ready for the second round.

Before he had the time to land the next punch, one of the men that had been seated at that very table stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Let me go,” Serov said as he tried getting past the offending arm. “Didn’t you see that guy assaulted the lady?”

“I think he’s had enough,” the taller man said, forcefully pushing Serov back a step. “He’s in no shape to hurt anyone anymore tonight.”

Serov humphed in displeasure, but he let himself be manhandled backwards, regardless.

“Fine,” he said, moving away from the other man’s reach. “I was leaving anyway.” Straightening his jacket and tie, he gave the poor businessman one last look, which had the man recoil in fear. Then he turned towards the two men that still sat around the table and the one who’d gotten up earlier, and he addressed them with one last parting nod. “Gentlemen.”

Sofiya, who’d remained at a good distance from the fight she knew was going to happen, took a few steps closer to the poor man sprawled in a mess of spilled drinks and broken glasses. Looking down at him, she spat, “For the record, there’s no amount of money in the world that would convince me to sleep with you.”

With that, she turned on her high heel and strutted to the exit, much to the bewilderment of everyone in the room. This was definitely one night everyone here would remember.

Serov was waiting for her in the elevator, using one of his feet to keep the door open. He removed it the instant Sofiya entered the cabin, and the doors closed on them.

“Did you get it?” the young woman asked as she selected the right floor.

Serov smirked at her as he flipped his hand like a magician would, and a magnetic key card slid between his fingers. Subtle, the man may not be, but his reputation as a pickpocket was well-established.

“Get the safe; I’ll search the room,” Sofiya said, as she entered the room of their mark. “We probably don’t have long until they get back.”

Serov obeyed, aiming for the only wardrobe in sight. He opened it and crouched in front of the safe as he got to work. Sofiya left him to it and focused on the rest of the room. The microfilm they were after had to be here, but where it had been hidden was anyone’s guess. Sure, the safe was the most secure place, but it was also the first spot an enterprising thief would go to.

She opened the night table drawer, lifted the pillows, and passed a hand beneath the mattress. Then she looked beneath the bed and under the lampshades, before deciding that if it wasn’t in the safe, it wasn’t in this room. She was about to enter the bathroom when the front door lock clicked open—she froze.

With one glance in his direction, she saw that Serov had heard it too. Crouched where he was, on the other side of the bed, there was nothing he could do about it. Dispatching the intruder would be Sofiya’s responsibility.

She nodded and pushed the bathroom door open to hide inside. An instant later, the silhouette of a man entered her field of vision. It was one of the guards, and he’d drawn out his pistol. So, they had realized one of their keys was missing, and they expected trouble. Well, she thought, it would be rude of her to disappoint his expectation.

She lunged herself at the man and elbowed him in the side with the full momentum of her action. It sent him flying towards the bed, where Serov was waiting like a tiger trying to catch his prey. The instant the man hit the mattress, Serov pounced on him, going straight for his neck. The security guard tried fending him off, but Serov had a vice-like grip on his windpipe, and he wasn’t letting go.

Sofiya forced herself to avert her gaze and return her attention to the front door. She trusted Serov could handle himself against a single opponent, and at the moment, she was more preoccupied with knowing where the second guard was. She didn’t have long to wonder, for he’d just entered the room, weapon also drawn.

Sofiya barely had time to move out of the way. A shot rang out, and the bathroom door exploded in a multitude of wood splinters. She kicked off her shoes even as she reached for the toilet seat. She yanked at the wooden lid hard, turned on her heel, and hurled it at her opponent before he had time to fire another shot.

She struck him in the chest and used his momentary surprise to move into a fighting stance and round-kick him in the guts. The toilet lid clattered to the ground at the same time as the man’s pistol. The guard would have fallen to the ground under the impact, too, if he wasn’t close to the wall. But he was, and backing into it kept him on his feet.

The man was no weakling and, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he rose both hands up in a boxer’s stance. Just my luck, thought Sofiya; she’d scored herself a pro fighter.

She mirrored his stance and took a step backwards when the man advanced on her. In this tiny bathroom, she had no way to escape him and little to no weapon at her disposal. The room itself would have to do, she thought, as she feigned a left before throwing the man a right hook. He parried her attack at the last moment and tried a countermove. Sofiya was quicker than him, and she bent down to avoid the punch. Using the momentum, she landed an elbow to the man’s gut before retreating to a safe distance again. She wasn’t quite fast enough, and the boxer got a grip on her hair. That didn’t stop her, though, and the wig was torn free when she swirled on herself to land a punch on the man’s face. She heard his nose break; the crunch of bones reverberated over the tiled walls an instant before the man’s howl of pain. Speed was Sofiya’s ally in this fight, and she wasted no time attacking the guard again. Using the heel of her right foot, she kicked him in the knee, and there was another loud crunch when she hit her target.

Nose gushing blood, face distorted in pain, the man fell to his knees. He tried holding onto the sink for support, but Sofiya knew there would be no getting back up for him. Moving to stand behind him, she grabbed the back of his head with both hands and pushed it into the sink, knocking him out cold.

Bending forward, hands on her hips, she took a minute to get her breathing back under control. When she stood back up, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her wig cap was askew, and a few rebellious strands had escaped it; sweat pearled at her brow, and her cheeks were flaming red. She looked nothing like the woman who’d entered the bathroom minutes ago.