Chapter 18

Ducking behind the door so that when it opened, it would shield her from view, she held her breath. The door opened and Kat could hear someone pause in the doorway, speaking to another person outside the room.

"I don't care if he is the Secretary General of the damn Union. The patient is not to have alcohol while taking the medication I prescribed. If Dr. Graham has a problem with my instructions, he can complain to the Administrator." He said, stepping past the door and into Kat's view. With his heel, he hooked the door and swung it close, his nose still buried in the data pad.

Kat, holding her breath, grabbed the edge of the door before it could swing out of reach and pivoted around the end so that she was standing in the door way, still facing into the office. She took a step backwards just as the man started to sit down and he looked up from his pad. He paused in a squat, half-way to his seat, a confused expression on his face.

"Pardon me Doc," Kat said with a half-faked nervous grin, "I saw the door closing and grabbed it, thinking you were someone else. I was going to sneak in and surprise you but it ended up being me that was surprised." She did her best to look abashed, wringing her hands, her eyes darting from the man's face to the floor at her feet and back.

The man took his seat and frowned at her, the look of confusion replaced by one of annoyance. "This is a hospital, not a place to be playing games. If you are not a patient and are not here for a medical reason, you should refrain from interrupting the staff during business hours."

Kat began backing further out of the office, slowly closing the door behind her. "Yes sir, sorry sir. I'll get back to work. I didn't mean to..." she let her voice trail off as the door closed, then took a deep breath. Then she took another. In her ear, she could hear Bob chuckling softly. "Oh hush, you." Kat muttered and continued down the hall in the same direction she had been heading when she had made her detour.

She reached the end if the corridor, one of the long legs of the "U" shaped building, and was about to enter the stairway when Bob contacted her again.

"I think I have it. Someone posted a bill for a local woman who is doing laundry for the Medicos. There is a crude map that shows how to get to the cleaner, and it is situated next to a building labeled TB. It is only a couple of blocks away."

"Let's meet at the Mule." Kat replied, and instead of turning into the stairwell, she continued out the door and began a leisurely stroll around the block. Keeping her eyes open for anyone taking too great an interest in her, Kat made her way back towards where they had parked the vehicle. Half a block before the unfinished building, Bob spoke up, "Turn left NOW. Into that alley. Look casual." he warned.

Kat veered left and entered the alley, the skin on the back of her neck prickling.

In the shadows of the alley, Bob was waiting with his pistol in his hand. "Someone is at the Mule. I got close and heard movement, then saw someone in the back."

Kat nodded and drew one of her own pistols, palming a knife in her off hand.

Together they stalked silently down the alley and behind the building, working their way closer to the half-built building next door. As they approached, Bob signaled that he was going to circle left and to give him a five count before moving in.

Kat crouched, scanning the area as she counted to five and then crept forward, looking around the edge of the wall. She could see two men, one standing outside the Mule and one in the driver's seat, rifling through the storage compartment. Kat slid forward until she could edge past the end of the wall. Carefully placing her feet to prevent making any noise, she moved slowly and silently closer.

The men were facing towards the front of the Mule and Bob was obviously not going to be able to show himself without being seen in turn. It was going to be up to Kat to get the ball rolling. She debated using the knife on the one in the open and then shooting the one in the vehicle, but wanted to refrain from shooting if possible. While the flechette pistol was nowhere near as loud the sound of the slug thrower that Bob was using, it did have a rather distinctive sound.

Kat made it to the rear of the mule and was able to slip behind the vehicle in a crouch, secure for the moment. Sliding the pistol back into her pocket, she removed the second knife from her belt and peered around the tail end. The outside man was staring right at her, his mouth open and eyes wide.

Caught off guard, Kat lunged right to clear the tail of the mule and whipped the knife in her right hand at the man. It struck him at the base of his throat but it only sank about half-way in. It had to have hit the top of his breast bone and stalled, she thought, her mind racing as her left hand prepared to launch the second knife. The wounded man tried to call a warning to his partner but what actually came out was a burbling, incoherent groan. He clutched at the knife and stumbled backwards, bouncing off the open door of the mule.

Kat, instead of throwing the second knife, tucked her shoulder and dove forward in a roll that brought her to the man's feet. Her momentum had brought her out of the roll and back to her feet right in front of the bleeding man. Still moving, she used her momentum to drop to a single knee and deliver an elbow strike to his midsection, propelling what little air he had left in his lungs up and out, around the blade of the knife that had opened his throat, and erupting in a spray of blood.

Looking left, she could see the man in the passenger compartment looking her way, but not at her. In fact, his eyes were not focused on anything.

Bob had not gone all the way round, he had entered the partially constructed building through an opening in the wall and snuck as close the vehicle's drivers' side as he could. When he saw Kat sneak to the rear end, he readied himself and was prepared to move when Kat attacked. While she was still in her dive forward, Bob lunged up from his hiding place and reached through the window. Grasping the occupant's chin in one hand and the back of his head in the other, he gave a convulsive jerk, spinning the man's head around and snapping his neck.