Andy McDermott - The Tomb Of Hercules

“That-that’s not what happened at all, and you know it!” said Nina, openmouthed with outrage. “And what is your problem with Sophia? Where do you know her from?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, I think you’ve made it my business!”

Chase shoved himself upright, face just inches from Nina’s. With the extra height of her heels, she was as tall as him. “All right, you want to know what my problem with Sophia is? She thinks that just because she was born into the right family, everyone else is beneath her. But you know what?” His face pulled into a sneer. “I didn’t mind it so much from her, because that’s how she’s always been, and she doesn’t know any better. But from you? You get a fancy job title and a bit more money and start schmoozing with politicians and all these rich dickheads, and suddenly you think you’re better than me and you can treat me like shit?”

Nina flushed with fury, lips drawn tight and quivering. Then-

Splash!

“Fuck you, Eddie,” she spat, turning on her heel and stalking away, leaving Chase with red wine dribbling down his face onto his shirt and jacket. He took a deep breath, then wiped his eyes. The handful of other people on the deck quickly looked away.

“What?” he said, offering them a broad grin that exposed the gap between his front teeth. “It’s not a proper party until someone gets a drink thrown in their face.”

This particular party being on a yacht out in New York Harbor, simply getting a taxi back to their apartment wasn’t an option for either Nina or Chase. Instead, they had to wait for one of the boats to return, then sit through the unhurried journey to shore, before finally taking a cab all the way uptown to the Upper East Side. The whole trip took close to forty-five minutes. Neither said a word to the other the whole time.

Ow.”

Nina squirmed painfully across her pillow, desperately searching for a cooler patch that might ease her headache. She didn’t find one.

The music thumping from the next room, seventies and eighties rock, wasn’t helping matters. Nor was the “singing” that accompanied it.

She reluctantly shuffled across the bed, the long T-shirt she was wearing creased and sweaty. One glance in the mirror as she rolled out from under the covers told her that her hair would require some serious restorative work before her meeting.

The meeting…

Suddenly filled with panic, she rushed into the apartment’s living room, squinting at the bright morning light through the balcony windows. “What time is it?” she demanded.

Chase, in shorts and a gray T-shirt, was lifting weights. He broke off from his tuneless rendition of “Free Bird” to say, “Morning, sunshine,” in a decidedly sarcastic tone.

“No, Eddie, really, what time is it? I need to get ready, I’m meeting-”

“It’s only seven o’clock, relax. Even you don’t take that long to sort yourself out.” He resumed his bicep curls.

“Seven o’clock? Wait, you got me up that early-can you turn that down?” She jabbed a finger at the stereo, into which Chase had plugged his iPod.

He grudgingly stopped lifting long enough to lower the volume by a tiny amount, then picked up the weights again. “It’s Wednesday morning. Training day.”

Nina winced. “Oh, God, do we have to? I really don’t feel up to it today.”

“It was your idea in the first place,” Chase snorted. He put on a nasal and shrill impersonation of her accent. “Eddie, can you keep me fit? Eddie, can you teach me self-defense? You were the one who nagged me into doing it.”

“I didn’t nag,” Nina complained. “Look, can’t we just skip it this week?”

“You should be doing it at least twice a week if you want it to be any use.” He changed stance. “I’m going to work out anyway. I might be stuck at a desk all day, but at least I’m not going to turn into some blob.”

Nina didn’t like his emphasis, but wasn’t sure whether he’d meant it deliberately or not. She decided to let it pass. This time. “Okay, okay. But keep it short, twenty minutes. I really need to get ready for this meeting. And let me freshen up first.”

When Nina emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, Chase had shoved the glass coffee table and black leather Le Corbusier couch aside to make room for a thick blue foam mat in the center of the room. She had donned a pair of sweatpants, padding barefoot across the floor. “Damn, I’m cold.”

“That’s bare wood floors for you,” Chase said dismissively. “Your old place was much nicer. You know, cozy and warm, carpets… None of this poncy stuff.” He made a sour face at the elongated carved statue of an African warrior that was the room’s showpiece.

“You live here too,” Nina reminded him, with an equally disapproving look at the Cuban pottery cigar-box holder in the shape of a beaming Fidel Castro, now used to keep loose change, that Chase had insisted on displaying on the kitchen counter. Exactly what Chase had been doing in Cuba during his time in the Special Air Service was yet another thing about his past she’d never been able to pry out of him. She understood the figurine’s sentimental value-it had been a joking gift from his friend Hugo Castille, who had died on the Atlantis expedition-but God, it was ugly!

“You wouldn’t think so,” he muttered, taking a martial stance. “All right! Let’s get started.”

The training session began with a warm-up, then moved on to judo, each of them in turn trying to throw the other. It didn’t take long for Nina to realize that Chase was offering considerably more resistance than usual when she tried to throw him. And as for his treatment of her…

She let out an angry gasp as she was smacked down-hard-onto the mat for the third time, Chase’s knee digging into her chest as he pinned her. “Eddie, that hurt!”

“That’s why it’s called fighting . Otherwise it’d be called fannying about.” He held her down for a moment longer, then stood. “Okay, let’s try something else.”

Nina waited for him to help her up. When he didn’t extend a hand, she glared at him and got to her feet. “What’s your problem? You’ve got a bug up your ass about something. You have for a while, actually. And I don’t just mean last night.”

He gave her a smile devoid of any humor. “Wow, I’m impressed. You mean you can actually remember anything about last night?”

“With the way you behaved, I’d rather forget it.” She knew he was about to make some scathing comment, and cut him off before he had the chance. “Come on, then. We were going to do something else.”

Chase grunted, then reached into his sports bag and took out a gun-not a real one, but a garish orange plastic toy. “Fair enough. You want me to be the bad guy, I’m the bad guy. Let’s see if you actually remember anything I’ve taught you.” He took a step back, then raised the gun and aimed it at Nina. “Disarm me.”

Nina shook her head. “For God’s sake.”

“What? You wanted self-defense training. This is self-defense training.”

“Yeah, but that was when I still thought there was a chance we might run into trouble, like if someone wanted revenge for Atlantis. Now? To be honest, all I want is a bit of a cardiovascular workout.”

“And you’ll get a cardiovascular workout if someone sticks a gun in your face. Come on.” He thrust the gun at her. “Give me your purse.”

“What? Eddie, come on-”

He pulled the trigger. The toy gun clicked. “Bang! You’re dead. Try again. You killed my boss. Now I’m going to kill you.”