11. 32 P.M.
The guard writhed in pain and slumped.
Two down, remaining one, she thought as she circled the corridor and peeped from behind her position.
The building had a lot of maze-like corridors making it possible for someone to attack from behind, if one was not careful, but the overall she wore gave her an edge and an added advantage.
Two more corridors and she would be right in front of the control room. She had so much cherished her ability to retrace her steps no matter where it was or how confusing. It had helped her during her days as an agent and now as an investigative reporter.
She crossed over to the next hallway and tiptoed down it. She peeped left to the other corridor and even in the slightly dim light of the hallway. She could make out the last guard holding a rifle and walking up and down the front of what she supposed was the boss’ office or a control room of some sort.
He was walking sheepishly like someone who was asleep.
Obviously, she couldn’t get a clear shot from her location and she equally wouldn’t like the bullet ricocheting off the wall and alerting him.
She looked at her watch. It was twenty minutes to go and she needed to think fast.
She stuck her hand in the army boot she was putting on and un sheathed the jack knife. She stuck it in her pocket and straightening the uniform. She began walking down the hallway.
“Hey! Came for replacement!” She said from behind him.
“Let me see!” He said pulling out a schedule sheet from his pocket.
“Today is the 12th, I don’t thi…” he felt a sharp pain as the knife pierced his stomach. She let him down slowly.
She dipped her hand in his pocket and luckily he had the key. With tensed up hands, she unlocked the door noiselessly and pushed it open.
She took a brief moment to take in the environment. She was surprised to see the man who was obviously the boss on a wheelchair, behind his laptop.
“Who’s that?” He barked, looking up from the computer and squinting to adjust his eyes.
Emily immediately located the light switch and turned it off. The room was thrown into darkness, save for a few overhead flat-screen monitors.
The heavy-set man lunged under the glass table and tried to reach for the gun he left on a side stool.
‘He should have been more careful’, he thought. Two shots shattered the glass table and splinters scattered all over him, pain exploded all over his body and he quickly withdrew his hands. He crept from under the weight of the shattered glass and was crawling stealthily to where he saw the dark outline of the woman, just beside a file cabinet.
‘God, I thought he was a cripple!’ Emily thought.
She was still reloading the gun when the heavily built man grabbed her middle and brought her down. The guy must be a weight lifter; she was almost helpless. Just then, she got the chance she had been waiting for, she landed a kick in his g—n. He groaned in pain but he still tackled her, and punched her twice.
Emily struck blindly at the advancing shadow and luckily got him squarely in the chest, it slowed him down and she patted the floor in search of the gun but he was faster. He twisted her arms but she used it as an advantage to land him an upper cut.
The gun had fallen again and she had no time to search for it. She reached for her belt and retrieved the bloodied knife. She struck blindly and caught him on the shoulder.
He winced in pain and lunged at her. The pain all over his body was maddening, but he’d been in much more worse conditions.
They landed on the floor and he gained the upper hand. He squeezed the blade from her hand and raised it high above his head to strike.
Just then, the light of the room came on and for an instant, he was blinded. That second was costly. He screamed madly as a bullet exploded through him.
He stared back wide-eyed. Even in death, the Mafia boss still seemed defiant. A foolish smile crept over his face, spittle and blood drooling over the side of his mouth. He looked like hell.
“It’s not over yet. The Malibu has never failed. Worse is co…” He dropped dead on top of Emily.
To be continued