Scene 29


Private manor owned by Globo-Fashion


Ms. Swan first served Ivana, and then moved to me. As she placed the appetizer in front of me, she whispered discreetly, so that only I could hear. “Hawk’s strike.” She then moved away and went back into the other room.

What she had whispered was a signal that whatever plan they had would initiate on Ms. Hawk’s signal. That meant that Ms. Swan and Ms. Hawk were the two that had evaded capture.

As Ivana and I enjoyed the appetizer, my two associates moved in and out of the room, along with four gentlemen of different ages. I assumed that these men were with the catering company. They appeared to be setting up a cart for a flambé. All were dressed in kilts, appropriate to the theme of the dinner.

I kept Ivana’s attention by chatting idly. She kept bringing up the subject of my joining her endeavor, but I kept asking other questions.

As the caterers were setting up the cart I noticed some unusual things. One of the men seemed to have on some kind of tool belt, although it was well concealed by his apron. Another of the men was wearing a strange pair of tight-fitting gloves, bright green in color. Another of the men, obviously the chef, arranged several knives and other cooking tools near him.

I noticed that Ms. Swan and Ms. Hawk had placed themselves near the dining table, as if waiting to clear our dishes when we were finished.

Just as I was wondering what the plan might be, Ms. Hawk called out. “Now!”

She immediately reached under the hem of her kilted skirt, pulling out two handguns. She quickly shot the two armed guards posted behind me.

Ms. Swan, still holding her serving tray, quickly swung it right into the face of a servant standing behind her, knocking him unconscious.

The youngest of the caterers unexpectedly grabbed a chair and smashed it against the floor, completely destroying it.

Another of the men removed his apron, showing the tool belt he had concealed beneath it. It was filled with carpenter’s tools. He drew out a hammer and a mallet and charged.

The chef grabbed several knives from his table and began throwing them. With uncanny accuracy, the knives pinned several of the servants to the walls and floor.

The man with the green gloves quickly moved to the door. As guards came through the door, alerted by the noise, the man quickly dispatched them, his gloved hands a blur of green.

Within just a few moments, my associates and the caterers had managed to disable and subdue all of the guards and servants. As we all looked around to assure we were secure, we noticed something immediately.

Ivana Rulital was no longer in the room.