She moved toward Fiorella--

Michaels felt the bullet hit him--it was a hot ball-peen hammer smashing against the front of his right thigh. He fell. It didn't really hurt, but he couldn't get back to his feet. The shot leg didn't want to work.

In front of him, Toni faced the woman, who had torn off her skirt and pulled a white-bladed knife. The a.s.sa.s.sin edged toward Toni. It wasn't over. He had to do something-- The gun! She had dropped the gun. Where was it--?

Toni actually felt calmer now. An attacker with a knife--this was something she had dealt with in practice, over and over again. High, low. The most important thing was to control the knife. You couldn't trade a punch for a stab, so you had to take high line and low line, you had to stop the knife arm at two points, high, low, to control it--

The Selkie moved in, keeping her balance. Fiorella stood and watched her, waiting, and she looked as if she knew what she was doing. It didn't matter. She had to finish this and go.

The Selkie feinted with a kick, then lunged--

Back of the arm, back of the arm, where there were fewer vessels to get slashed! Guru's instructions came back, crystal clear, as sharp as the approaching blade: Against an expert, you Against an expert, you will will get cut. Give him a spa.r.s.e target. get cut. Give him a spa.r.s.e target.

The kick was a feint, but the slash was also a feint. When Toni threw up her left arm to block, the a.s.sa.s.sin jerked the knife back. The edge scored a deep line along the outside of Toni's forearm, just above the elbow.

It didn't matter. She wouldn't bleed out from that. Her hand still worked. She shifted her feet, waited--

Fiorella didn't react to the cut, didn't look at it, kept watching the attacker. The Selkie grinned. She was good, but time was running out.

There was a sequence attack, two feints, a shift of the knife to the other hand, then the heart stab between the ribs, followed by the backslash to the throat. It always worked in practice, and she had also killed a man with it in real combat.

The party was over. It was time to do what she did best, then leave.

The Selkie moved--

The attacker came in again, feinted, faked, thrust, then flipped the knife to her other hand as Toni went for the block. Toni would have been impressed watching from elsewhere, but she didn't have time to be impressed now. All the years of practice had to take over, no time to think anymore--!

Toni shifted her stance, pa.s.sed the fake and did the block and break on the attacker's knife arm. Her right arm stopped the thrust at the wrist--low. Blood flew from the cut on her arm as she slammed the back of her left wrist under the woman's elbow--high.

The arm broke, the knife fell. Toni moved in, went over the wrecked arm and slammed her elbow into the woman's face. Followed her as she stumbled back and hit the lockers, drove a knee into the attacker's belly, then did sapu luar sapu luar and dropped her to the floor. The attacker hit hard, her head bounced, but she rolled, dove for the knife, caught it in her good hand, came up and c.o.c.ked the blade for a throw. Her nose was broken and b.l.o.o.d.y, her eyebrow split-- and dropped her to the floor. The attacker hit hard, her head bounced, but she rolled, dove for the knife, caught it in her good hand, came up and c.o.c.ked the blade for a throw. Her nose was broken and b.l.o.o.d.y, her eyebrow split--

She knew now she couldn't take Fiorella in a one-on-one, even if her arm hadn't just been broken. One chance. The knife wasn't the best for throwing, but it would back the other woman off if it hit, point or b.u.t.t. She'd lost, but she could still get away-- The Selkie aimed her elbow at the target, knife held by the blade next to her ear--

Michaels found the white gun, rolled over his bad leg--now it hurt!--and shoved the weapon out in front of him. He yelled to distract the woman about to throw the knife: it hurt!--and shoved the weapon out in front of him. He yelled to distract the woman about to throw the knife: "Hey!!" "Hey!!"

She didn't waver, started to make the throw-- He pulled the trigger.

The recoil twisted the gun from his grip, and the sound was so loud it was like a bomb going off next to him.

A long moment held. Aeons pa.s.sed. n.o.body moved.

The knife flew--but clattered to the floor five feet away.

He'd hit her. Right in the middle of the back. The woman dropped to her knees, tried to reach the wound in her back with one hand, could not. She turned to look at him, her face puzzled more than anything. Then she toppled over onto her side.

Toni ran to where Alex lay. "Alex!?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay, she just got me in the leg."

The sound of approaching and excited voices rolled over them.

"You're hurt," he said.

"Just a cut. Looks worse than it is," she said. "Stay there, I'll get us some towels."

"I'm not going anywhere."

She got to her feet. Remembered Rusty. She hurried to where he lay. His eyes were open wide, not blinking. He had a b.l.o.o.d.y wound in the center of his chest--wasn't breathing--there was no pulse in his neck.

Two of the men from the gym ran in. "He needs help!" she said, pointing at Rusty. She dropped to her knees.

The two men were joined by a third. "We got it, Toni," one of them said. "Go wrap up that cut."

Alex had dragged himself to where the woman lay. He rolled her onto her back. The a.s.sa.s.sin moaned. She looked at him. Toni moved back toward Alex and the a.s.sa.s.sin, found a towel, pressed it against the wound in Alex's leg.

"Ow." He looked at Toni. "Thanks." Then he looked back at the woman.

"Son-of-a . . . b.i.t.c.h," the woman said. Her voice was burbly. Probably bleeding into a lung.

Alex said, "Who paid you to kill Steve Day?"

The woman was dying. But she laughed, a bubbly, liquid noise. "Who?"

"Day. Steve Day."

"Don't know the name," she said. "I never . . . forget a . . . target. He's . . . not one of mine."

"You didn't kill Steve Day?" Alex said.

"You deaf? I was hired to . . . do you. I--Genaloni. I did him. And some others. I don't--"

And just like that, she blinked out. Whatever she'd intended to say was chopped off in mid-sentence. There was a final outrush of bubbly air, and she was gone.

Alex and Toni looked at each other. Somebody from Medical ran in. The place seemed filled with people. Toni felt an overwhelming urge to hug Alex. She did.

He let her. And he hugged her back.

Friday, October 8th, 1:02 p.m. Quantico Bureau Medical had a doctor and several nurses on staff in the main compound, and their own ambulance for anything they couldn't handle on their own. The in-house medic sutured the cut on Toni's arm--it took eighteen st.i.tches inside and out--sprayed it with clear statskin, gave her a teta.n.u.s shot, and told her to have the sutures removed in five days.

X-rays of Michaels's leg showed that his bullet wound was a through-and-through. It had hit him slightly to the outside of the right thigh, glanced off the femur without breaking it and exited just under the outer edge of his b.u.t.tock, all without doing any major damage--except for a couple of holes the size of his little finger's tip. The doctor cleaned and bandaged the wounds, but didn't sew them up; gave him a teta.n.u.s shot and a pair of crutches, and advised Michaels to avoid playing soccer for the next couple of weeks. He had his nurse give them samples of pain tablets, and told them they would hurt more tomorrow than they did right now. If they wanted to go and spend a couple of hours in the local ER to get a second opinion, that was up to them.

Both Toni and Michaels declined the ER trip.

Instead, they were back in Michaels's office. He sat on the couch, resting on his good hip. Toni stood by the door.

"Something bothering you, Alex?"

"Other than getting shot?"

"Yes."

He said, "I didn't feel particularly heroic in that locker room."

"Excuse me?"

"I should have done more."

"You came to help me. You charged a killer with a gun and you were unarmed. You managed to shoot her after you were wounded. How heroic do you think you need to be? You planning on leaping tall buildings in a single bound?"

He gave her a small smile. "Yeah. Well. Still, it kinda felt like Larry and Curly catch a killer," Michaels said.

She looked blank.

"Two of the Three Stooges," he said. "Hey, Larry! Hey, Moe! Woowoowoowoo!"

"Oh, yeah. My brothers used to watch those old vids. They must be a male thing. I never thought they were funny. Too violent." She smiled at the irony.

"I'm really sorry about your friend, the FBI trainee."

"Yeah."

There was a long pause. Then: "You believe her?" he said. "About Steve Day?"

Toni shrugged. "I don't know. She confessed to Genaloni and 'some others.' Why would she lie about Day?"

"Maybe to screw with our heads," Michaels said.

"We have to consider that. Did you you believe her?" believe her?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I did. I didn't think Day's murder was her style before, and this confirmed it for me."

"At least she won't be coming after you again."

"No. But what that means is, somebody else is responsible for Day."

"Somebody who apparently wanted us to think the mob did it," Toni said.

He nodded. "Remember that business about Genaloni's lieutenant up and disappearing? That they thought the FBI had taken him?"

"Yes."

"I bet whoever swiped his enforcer did it to p.i.s.s Genaloni off. And whoever it was knew to point the finger at us when he did it."

"Looks like it worked," she said. "If Genaloni thought Net Force was gunning for him, he might have hired somebody to hit back. In his world, any problem can be solved with money or violence."

He shifted his weight slightly. His leg was beginning to throb pretty good. He considered taking one of the pain pills, then decided against it. He needed his mind to be clear more than he needed to be doped up and pain-free.

"So, we're back to square one on Day's killing," she added.

"No. I know who did it."

She looked at him. "Who?"

"The Russian. Plekhanov."

She thought about it for a second. "How did you come to that?"

He said, "It was part of his plan all along, to give Net Force something else to look at while he pulled off his power grab. The attacks on Day, our listening posts, all the rascals he threw in our paths all over the world. He wanted us busy, so we wouldn't notice what he was doing. It all makes a kind of warped sense."

"I don't know, Alex. It's possible, but--"

"It's him. I know it. He was willing to crash systems that caused deaths. It's not that big a leap to hiring a shooter. We were looking in the wrong direction--right where Plekhanov wanted us to look. He's smart."

Toni looked at him. "a.s.sume you're right. How do we prove it? If his computer skills are as good as Jay says they are, we can't get into his files. Without some record, all we have is some very circ.u.mstantial evidence, and not much of that."