Текст книги "Заговор мечей"

Автор книги: Джейн Doy Press

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

Alex found the man she was looking for as they each approached his office from different directions.

“Mike, you got a minute or two to spare?”

“For you, Alex, I got three, but not much more than that. I got people crying for test results.” Mike Clarin, called Mikey because of his babyish good looks, slid neatly behind his desk and put his feet up on the stack of papers on the corner. Alex grinned at the sight of his tennis shoes.

“Those aren’t regulation, Mikey.”

“So report me. The only thing they’ll do is send out a memo telling me to follow the regs. I’ll tell them no, and they’ll ignore me ‘til someone else reports me, and then the whole thing will start all over again.” The two agents smiled at each other. “So, what’s on your mind, Alex?”

“What can you tell me about the Romanian Dremov rifle?”

Mike stretched his arms out, then clasped his hands on top of his head. “Good rifle. The Dremov is just one of a series of rifles the Romanians came out with. When it was legal to import them to the U.S., they’d go for as much as twelve hundred dollars apiece. And that was before you added a scope.”

“So, it would make a good sniper’s rifle?”

“Absolutely. The predecessor of the Dremov was developed by the Soviet Army for use as a sniper’s gun.” He grinned at her. “But of course it’s illegal to bring them into the country. They were still fairly new when the ban went into effect, so the number of collectors that have them legally is pretty small. I’d say there are less than a hundred and fifty legal Dremovs in the states.”

“What about illegal Dremovs?”

He snorted. “Who knows.”

“Okay. I need you to think about this, Mikey. You remember the Fletcher killing?”

“The New York hit, from the roof top?”

“Right. Is there a possibility that a Dremov was the rifle used?”

The grin pulled into a tight frown. “Well, the caliber is right. Dremov’s can be made to take either a thirty-nine or a fifty-four millimeter. The bullets recovered, and the shells found, indicate manufacture outside the states.” He shrugged. “It could very well be the weapon used.”

“Dremovs can be broken down, right?”

“Absolutely. They can be put together in under a minute, and the break down is even faster.”

Alex was tapping her hand against her knee. “Mikey, I know with some handguns, they leave on the bullet a pattern unique to the type of gun, not just the individual barrel. Is that true of rifles?”

“Well, yes, to a smaller degree. But it’s not a marking on the bullet itself, it’s a pattern on the shell, from both the hammer, and the ejector if it’s an auto or semi-automatic weapon.”

“Did you check the shells found in New York?”

“Yes, against the markings of over thirty different rifle types. There was no match.” He watched Alex’s frown grow. “But.”

“But?”

“But not against a Dremov. Didn’t have a clue that it was a possibility. They can’t be imported. I don’t even know if we have the pattern for a Dremov on file.”

“Can you check?”

“Sure. Probably take me till tomorrow – I’m behind as it is.”

“No rush. It’s not like we have the gun.”

“I’ll do my best to check it by tomorrow afternoon. Good enough?”

“Definitely. Thanks, Mikey. And consider yourself on report for those shoes, Mister.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell you what. The regulation, as old as it is, says that all agents must wear a protective cup when in the field. It was actually written before women were accepted into the Bureau, but I don’t think anyone’s ever changed it. The day you start wearing one, I’ll stop wearing my sneakers.”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Cause you wouldn’t be the same without the shoes, and there’s no way in hell you could get me into one of those jockstrap things.”

Mikey’s laughter followed her as she left the lab.

*******************************************************

Alex dropped onto her couch, bringing her feet up and stretching out. She’d left work after the 3:30 meeting, glad to find the Metro much less crowded than it usually was. There’d been a little touch of fear, when she thought about her ride home the night before. But the tickling itch in her back did not develop, and the ride had been quiet. Alex had been so tired, she almost missed her stop.

Now, she was home, and resting. She had stopped at Christo’s as she walked home from the Metro stop, and bought her usual chicken parmagian with garlic bread. Stretched out on her sofa, she placed the foam container on her stomach, and lifted the lid. The steam wafted up, bringing the scent of tomatoes and cheese.

Appleby jumped onto her legs and watched her.

“No, big guy, you don’t get any. You don’t like tomatoes, and cheese makes you sick.”

His nose twitched in an effort to remind her that he did like chicken.

“Appleby, you’ve got plenty of food in your dish. This is mine. Go away.”

He didn’t move. She took a bite, pointedly staring at him. Alex reached for her cup of tea, still meeting the cat’s eyes. She swallowed, then sighed.

“Fine. Here.” She pulled a piece of chicken off her plate and handed it to him. He settled contentedly by her feet, chewing.

“Jeez, I’m supposed to be a big tough FBI agent, and I can’t even say no to my cat.”

Alex snuggled down further into the couch. She used the remote to turn on the stereo, letting the violins and guitar of ELO flow over her. “Only the Electric Light Orchestra can blend the sound of symphony with rock and roll – and do it so very well.”

That had been another sticking point between her and Sarah. She swore by the classic rock she’d grown up with. Sarah loved only jazz and classical music.

As she ate, Alex tried to get her mind onto something other than work. The music, the food, Appleby’s begging. Anything but Mather, and Dabir, and, especially, Teren Mylos.

It didn’t work, and she was soon going back over what had happened in the afternoon meeting.

She and Cliff had explained the basics of what they’d learned from the CIA, and then David told them about Clymes and his revelation. He’d also passed around the folder on Wilford, including the picture. It was the photo of the dead man that brought Ben Cleves to his feet. He’d reached over to a stack of papers on the table, searching through them until he found what he was looking for. Then, with a breath and a grin, he handed his partner the photo, and the sheet he’d pulled from the pile.

“It’s him,” was all he said.

Mark Garnett had nodded. “Yep. I think it is.”

Cliff leaned over towards them. “Wanna tell the rest of us?”

Ben looked up. “Sure.” He turned the piece of paper he’d taken back from his partner, showing it to everyone. Then he held Wilford’s picture up next to it. “They’re the same guy.”

David frowned. “Well, yeah. That’s the sketch from Philly, of the driver of the car, isn’t it?”

Alex answered him, her eyes wide. “No. That’s the sketch of the suspect from Baltimore. Right, Ben?”

“Yep.”

Suddenly the things she’d been forgetting were clear to Alex. “Fuck.” She slapped her hands on the table top in front of her. “Fucking shit! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”

“Think of what, Alex?”

“The description, Cliff. The way Sargeant Leonard described the killers in Philly. He said the driver was of medium build with sandy blond hair. And how was the Baltimore suspect described? Same fucking way.”

“Calm down, Alex, we got that part.” David tried to calm his irate partner.

“Yeah, but did you get the rest? No, because I’ve been a stupid—”

Cliff placed a hand on her shoulder. “Alex, shut up.” Alex did. “Now, take a deep breath.” She did so. “Let it out.”

Alex exhaled through her clenched teeth.

“Now, Alex, calmly tell us what you’re talking about.”

Alex turned to Louis Baker, who was sitting next to his partner, Steve Hentgen. They had been assigned the bombing death of Doug Wilson.

“Lou, would you please repeat the description of the man seen near Wilson’s car?”

Lou frowned. “Brown hair, about five-eight, maybe five-nine. Wasn’t very detailed, and it doesn’t fit Wilford.”

Alex shook her head. “No. But it does fit George Mather.”

There was silence in the room.

“Something has been bugging me ever since Dave and I got back from Philly, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. When Ben connected his shooter’s description to the photo, it hit me. Leonard described the two men he saw exactly the same way our witnesses described what they saw. They’re the same men. The same two men.”

Cliff cleared his throat, but found himself curiously unable to say anything. He coughed, instead.

It was finally Tom Jorgen who broke the silence. “Well, with the descriptions, we can place these guys, one or the other, in Baltimore, Philly, and Atlanta. What about New York and LA?”

Alex sighed. “I don’t know. We were told that Mather was in New York, and owns the proper type of weapon, but there is no solid proof. Not that eyewitness statements are altogether solid, but we don’t even have that.”

Cliff finally found his voice. “It’s a good point. I may be able to believe that all four east coast victims were killed by our two crispy critters, but I don’t think they did the job on Arturo.”

Everyone had to grin at Cliff’s description of Mather and Wilford.

“Has anyone heard from Bill and Victor?”

“Yeah. They interviewed the driver, and he fingered a guy named Brillo. They’re gonna stay a few days to see if the police can find the suspect.”

“Cliff, I think David and I should interview Brogan.”

Jackson scratched his neck. “I don’t know, Alex. I think I want Ken to do it.”

“Sir, I hate to tell you this, but Brogan certainly isn’t going to let anything slip to a black man.”

“No, he probably won’t. That’s why I told him to take Price with him. They’re gonna play a version of good-cop, bad-cop.”

“And Keller?”

“He’s on sick-leave. Those headaches are really draining him.”

All the agents were silent, an unconscious moment of honor for one of their own who’d been wounded.

“So, you’re pairing Rick Price and Ken Thomas?”

“For a little while. The head of the Philly office thinks Price has a lot of potential, and Ken agreed with him. He doesn’t mind taking the kid under his wing.”

“You know, he wants to come to Washington.”

“And he might just get here. I’m trying to wrangle it so he can join our team.”

“I thought Bishop said …”

“Yeah, he turned down our request for extra agents from the Washington or Virginia office. However, I never requested anybody from Philly, and if they’re willing to loan him out, I’m not gonna turn them down.”

Most of the agents grinned at that, and several gave an outright laugh.

“Okay, so what’s next? Who’s got an idea where to go from here?”

David raised his head. “I really think we should check out Wilford’s background. I checked out his address in Baltimore, and found out he had a post-office box as his forwarding address. I thought I’d check out what he might have there. Plus, before his three years at Whitley’s, he had a number of other jobs. We might get a better picture of who he was if we talk to his old bosses.”

“Good idea, Dave. Why don’t you split the list with Mark and Ben.”

Tom Jorgen spoke up. “Cliff, me and Rudy would like to head up to New York. Maybe, just maybe, the NYPD has something on these guys. And we’d like to check out Mather’s old place, just in case he left an address with someone.”

“Teren Mylos said she didn’t find anything, Tom.”

“I know, Alex, but you said yourself she’s kind of scary. Do you really think someone would be totally honest with her?”

“Good point.”

Cliff turned to his bomb experts. “And what do you two have in mind?”

“Well, we thought we’d go to Philadelphia – check out the bomb under the car. Ken says it’s different from the one in Atlanta, but I think we want to see it, just the same.”

“Good. You two, and Tom and Rudy, see Jodi for my authorization, then go to Trans for tickets. I want your itineraries on my desk by the time you leave the office tonight.”

The four named agents gathered their belongings and left. Mark and Ben joined David, looking over the list of employers for Darryl Wilford.

Ben looked up for a moment. “Hey, Alex, are you joining us?”

Alex opened her mouth to answer, but Cliff broke in first.

“No, Alex is doing something for me this afternoon, and then she’ll hopefully have some reports from Research to deal with. Besides, I think I want her in the office for a day or two, to look over everything as it comes in. She’s the best organizer we have.”

Ben nodded, as did Mark. David threw Alex a worried glance, but didn’t say anything else as he left with the two men.

Alex sat stiffly in her chair, as Cliff pulled out the seat next to her. He dropped into it with a sigh.

“Long day.”

She didn’t answer him.

“Alex, it’s not a disciplinary thing.”

She looked at him. “No? Not even for that outburst a few minutes ago?”

He shook his head. “No, not even for that. I think you punished yourself enough.”

“Then why? Why are you keeping me in the office?”

“Because I think you need a break. Look, Alex, you were low on reserves before I sent you to Philadelphia. I knew it, and so did most of the others. You’re still tired from the tension down there, and emotionally you’ve got nothing left. It’s okay. It happens.”

Alex couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Alex, I’m not planning on pulling you off this case, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re one of the best this team has, and I’d be stupid if I kept you from doing what you do best.”

Finally, he could see her head come up. “But you’re keeping me grounded?”

“Yes.” Her eyes dipped again. “But only for tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to get some rest. Go home, play with that stupid cat of yours, and watch some stupid tv show. Let it go for tonight.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow I want you to go to the gym in the morning. I’ll bet anything you didn’t work out the entire time you were in Philly. After the gym, you can come in and go over every sheet of paper we have on this case. Who knows, with a clear head, maybe you can solve this thing all by yourself.”

That got a half-smile from Alex.

“And if you haven’t solved it by Thursday, you and David can go back to chasing these guys outside the office.”

Alex nodded. “Got it. I’m on a leash ‘til Thursday.”

“Yes.” He’d studied her for a moment.“Any problems with that?”

She shook her head. “No. I was needing sleep, and the trip to the gym sounds good. You’re right, I didn’t go the entire time we were in PA.”

Alex looked at Cliff a little sheepishly. “I gotta tell you, Cliff, I feel kind of like I’m getting a lecture from the headmaster or something. Have I been acting that much like a child?”

Cliff grinned at her. “No. Not like a child.” He waited. “A little like a teenager.”

They both laughed.

And then Alex had left the office. It was the earliest she’d gotten out of there since before the New Year.

Now, she was safely curled up on her couch, with a full belly, and a contented cat. The strings of ELO had given way to the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks, and Alex could feel herself relaxing. She knew she should get up. She had laundry to do, and she should check her phone messages. But Stevie was singing about taking her love down, and Alex let herself go down as well, falling asleep between thoughts.

There was a ringing noise in her ears as Alex awoke. She struggled up past the final layers of sleep, and found herself on the couch, curled on her side, with Appleby tight against the backs of her knees. For a moment she was tempted to go back to sleep, but then realized that the ringing had been her phone, and it had stopped.

With a groan she got to her feet, disturbing Appleby. He glared at her, but she didn’t notice. Instead, she stumbled into her bedroom, trying to hear the message on the machine, but the caller had already hung up.

Alex dropped onto her bed, rubbing her eyes. She reached down to hit the play button on her machine.

There were two messages. The first was from Sarah.

“Alex? Hey, babe. I heard about what happened in Philadelphia. God, I can’t believe it took me this long to find out. If I had known earlier, you wouldn’t have come home to an empty apartment on Sunday. Maggie and I would have been there for you.”

There was a pause, then she continued. “You know, if you need to talk about anything, you can call. Anytime. I know you, you’re probably beating yourself up over this. But don’t. It sounds like you did everything you could.”

Again, she paused. “We love you, Alex. Call me. Please? I’m worried about you, kiddo, and I think you need some friends. Maggie and I are here if you need us. But call me, or I might end up banging down you door. Please take care. Bye.”

There was a click from the machine, then a whirring noise. Then another click as the machine picked up the next call.

There was no voice. After a moment, Alex could hear the soft sound of someone’s breath, then the phone hanging up. The dial tone buzzed for a moment, until the machine cut it off.

Alex put the hang up out of her mind concentrating on the fact that Sarah had somehow found out about Philly. She wondered how. Did Sarah call David for some reason? Or had David called Sarah, worried about Alex? She wouldn’t put it past her friend, or her partner, to call the other, especially if they thought something was wrong with Alex.

Not that there was anything wrong. She was just tired. After all, she’d had to deal with a dead body in her arms, fried corpses, a vicious police captain, little sleep, and the inability to do anything about any of it. She hadn’t been able to save Dabir, she couldn’t keep him safe, and his blood had been hot as it flowed over her hands …

Alex suddenly realized that she was crying, and wrapping her hand in the comforter on her bed. She felt the sob as it rose from her chest, the harsh sounds as she struggled to breathe through the tears that dripped down her face. For several minutes she stayed still, letting the images of Dabir’s blood soaked body come up in her mind. She followed the events in her memory as she heard the screams, and saw people running. She felt the dead weight of Dabir’s body as she helped lift him onto the stretcher, and crawled in after the paramedic. She’d followed the medics orders, and held an oxygen mask over the bloody face. She’d seen the open eyes staring up at her, and knew they saw nothing.

Slowly, the images began to slip away. Alex found herself able to draw a breath without struggling. The tears continued to stream down her cheeks, but her hands relaxed their panicked hold on the bedspread. The ache that she’d suppressed since Sunday morning was shrinking back to a manageable size as she finally acknowledged the feeling of helplessness, and the fear and anger that accompanied it. After another couple of minutes, Alex took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out.

It was time to face it.

“Okay, Dabir died,” she said. “But it wasn’t my fault.” For the first time, she thought she could believe that. “I couldn’t prepare for what I didn’t know could happen. It wasn’t my fault.” It was logical, and she could feel the ache inside ease a little more. “I did my job. And I still couldn’t have stopped it.”

The pain was still there. Alex knew it wasn’t going to just disappear. But as she wiped away the wetness on her cheeks, she could almost sense the emotions settling back down, this time without the rumbling boil she’d been feeling for days. Finally she felt herself back in control. It was different, not the iron will she’d demanded of herself since the assassination, but the simple understanding that the worst had happened, and she had handled it. Not only that, but the task force had seen more progress in the last few days than they’d had since starting, so many months ago. Now they knew who the men were. And with any luck, they’d find who hired them.

With another deep breath, Alex got herself fully under control. She looked beside her at Appleby, who had climbed onto the bed to watch her. He had his head tilted, and a concerned look on his face. She reached up and rubbed his head.

“I’m okay now, pal. Just had to get that out of my system.” He stared at her a second longer, then started licking at his fur. Alex laughed. “Yeah, I’m glad I’m okay, too.” She picked him up and hugged him, then let him go. He jumped down from the bed, his tail up. He stalked out of the bedroom, heading for his food dish.

Alex sat a moment longer, taking stock of her tattered emotions. She felt like she could face work again without letting the frustration drive her crazy. She was looking forward to trying.

Tomorrow, there’d be laundry to do in the morning, and a workout after that. She wouldn’t mind spending a day doing background work, and writing reports. There would be other days to try to save the world.

But for now, it was time to get a good night’s sleep. Feeling pleasantly tired, rather than exhausted, Alex got ready for bed.

*******************************************************

The computer on the bike said she’d ridden five miles. Alex felt like it had been twenty.

“Jeez, that’ll teach me to stop working out for a month.”

She hopped off the bike and grabbed her towel.

“Alex! It’s about time we see you back in here.”

“Hey, Margo. How’ve you been?”

Margo Wicks was a tall, leggy brunette, with curves in the right places. She worked as both a trainer and a first aid tech at the FBI gym. Most of the people that trained there had developed an attraction to her at one point or another. Alex was no different. At a drunken Halloween party two years before, she and Margo had spent the evening flirting with each other. They had retired to a bedroom for a little privacy and some making out. It turned out they had both had too much to drink, and instead of having sex, they’d simply passed out. The next morning had been embarrassing for both of them, but they’d gotten over it. Margo had decided she was really straight, which Alex thought was a shame.

“I heard you were in Philadelphia, Alex.”

“Yeah. Not a pleasant trip, Margo.”

“Guess not.” Margo waited as Alex moved over to the treadmill, and set the computer for three miles. “By the way, when is your readiness test? I know it’s been more than four months.”

“Yeah, just over four. I think I’m scheduled to do a recertification this May.”

“Well, you might want to check into a class before then. We’ve got this new hand-to-hand instructor that’s really something else. She’s an expert in several martial arts disciplines.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, and she’s single.”

Alex stared at the taller woman. “Oh, Margo, not you, too?”

“Not me too, what?”

“You’re not trying to set me up, are you? My partner keeps trying, my friend Sarah tries. I swear if I have to spend one more evening doing the ‘get-to-know-you’ crap, I’m gonna marry a guy just to shut them up!”

“No, Alex, it’s not like that. I would never try to set you up.”

“Good.”

Margo paused as Alex began her stationary jogging. “But she is hot.”

Alex rolled her eyes.

“And I think she’s family.”

“Why? Does she wear a t-shirt that says ‘No one knows I’m gay?’”

“No. But she’s thirty-five, not married, absolutely gorgeous, and doesn’t even give the time of day to any of the guys outside of her classes. She’s gotta be gay.”

“Margo. Think about this. You’re thirty-two. You’re not married. You’re beautiful. And you won’t give the time of day to most of these guys. And you’re not gay.”

“No.”

“See my point?”

“But I thought I might have been bi.”

Alex just rolled her eyes.

Margo chuckled. “Alright. If you change your mind, she’s teaching a class in room seven, just down the hall, on the way to the locker room. You could take a look if you wanted.”

“Margo.”

“Hey, just in case you decide you need a little help for your test in May.”

“Right.”

Margo patted Alex on the shoulder and left.

Alex ran the rest of her miles, then grabbed her towel and ID. She was definitely feeling the strain of having been away from the gym for too long. She reached up and rubbed her shoulder as she walked down the hall.

She passed the door to room seven, noticing that it was half-open. Alex could hear a loud voice lecturing on how to avoid being taken down in hand-to-hand combat. She sighed.

Margo probably knew she couldn’t resist.

Alex edged her body into the doorway, glancing at the students in the back row. They seemed intent on the demonstration taking place on the platform in front of them, so she pushed the door the rest of the way open, and slipped inside to watch for a few minutes.

There were two people on the platform, a man and a woman. The man, who Alex recognized from her days at the academy, was dressed in a karate uniform, with a brown belt. The woman, though wearing the pants of a karate student, wore only a black sports bra for a top.

Margo had been right. The woman, even from the back, was stunning. Though tall, her body was perfectly proportioned, with long legs. She had dark hair that was held back by a leather tie around her forehead. Alex couldn’t help but admire the comfortable way she moved, with confidence and grace.

As the figure turned, Alex’s breath caught in her chest. The woman was Teren Mylos.

“Alright, Tony. You’re going to help me demonstrate, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Tony obviously didn’t see the strength in the woman facing him. Even from the back Alex could see the corded muscles on the dark woman. Tony, however, just smirked.

“No problem, Teach.” He assumed a defensive stance across from her. He was bouncing lightly on his feet, the smile still on his lips.

Which was the wrong thing to do. Before anyone even realized that she’d moved,Teren had spun to the side, and landed a flying kick high on Tony’s chest. He stumbled backwards several steps, and Teren easily pulled his feet out from under him.

He sat there blinking, the smirk gone. In it’s place was a look half surprise, half anger. He got to his feet, rubbing his chest.

“The object of this lesson, Tony, is to stay on your feet. I don’t think you succeeded.”

There were a couple of nervous chuckles around the room.

“Shall we try this again?” Teren asked. Her opponent nodded.

They took their positions again, and this time there was no bounce to Tony’s step. He was serious this time as he waited for Teren’s move. When it came, as a punch towards his face, he blocked it without problem. But the second one connected, with an audible crack. It was enough to knock him back again. He managed to keep his feet, however, and was back into position before Teren could once again sweep his legs.

“Good.” Teren nodded. “Now, this time you attack me.”

Tony balked a little at that. “But —”

“That’s an order, Mr. Lewis. Attack.”

Tony began to move a little to his left, looking for an opening. He remembered what Teren’s kick had done to his chest, and didn’t want to give her the opportunity to do it again.

Spotting what he thought was an opening, Tony feinted right, then spun left with a backhand blow. It was stopped, and he ducked to avoid the counterattack from Teren while aiming a straight punch to her midsection. That too was knocked aside, but for the moment Tony was inside Teren’s guard, and he used his position to throw an uppercut to her jaw. Instead of blocking it, Teren simply leaned back, letting the force of the blow take Tony’s arm up in front of her. Then she hooked his right arm with her left, pulling it under hers. He immediately swung his left hand at her in a clumsy blow, and Teren brushed it aside. She punched him twice, once to his stomach, and once to his nose, then used her right foot to yank his feet out from under him. He collapsed to the floor, his nose leaving a red trail on his white jacket.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Lewis? Did your mother tell you not to hit little girls?”

Tony’s face was red, from blood, and from anger. He wiped his nose on his sleeve as he climbed to his feet. Teren completely dropped her guard.

“I’ve got news for you, Tony. I’m not a little girl. I’m the woman who’s kicking your butt.”

Alex hadn’t moved from her position in the back of the room, but even she could see the fury in Tony’s eyes. His lip curled in a snarl, and his fists were clenched. He brought his hands up, but didn’t even hold his position for a full second before launching an all out attack on a seemingly defenseless Teren.

Tony was swinging wildly, lashing out in his anger, and for several minutes Teren just allowed him his rage. She blocked most of his shots, and let the rest slide past her body as she moved. Tony, frustrated with not being able to land a blow with his fists, suddenly leaped and kicked out. It was an awkward move, and came more from anger than anything else. Teren had been expecting it, and let it fly past her head. It was what she’d been waiting for.

Tony landed off-balance, and before he could recover, Teren blew past his defenses with a left hand to his jaw. She followed it with a right, then a left to his stomach. He doubled over, and before he could straighten, she nailed him in the middle of his back with an elbow. Tony went down, and he stayed there.

Teren stood up, and looked down at her beaten adversary. She shook her head, then addressed her class.

“There were two lessons demonstrated up here just now. The first, keep your feet at all times. If you’re on the ground, you’re done. Second,” she looked back at Tony who had managed to rise to his knees, “keep your temper at all times. The object of hand-to-hand is survival, You do not survive by getting angry, or embarrassed, and you certainly don’t survive just by looking good. There are no points for those who look cool while they die – they’re just dead.”

There was silence in the room, broken only by Tony Lewis’s heavy breathing. Teren’s gaze swept the room, and she made eye-contact with most of her students. Her gaze paused on the blond head at the back of the room. Alex realized she’d been spotted, and she gave a nod to the instructor. Teren’s eyes held hers for several seconds, then focused back on the figure beside her.

“Mr. Lewis, go get yourself cleaned up. Have Margo check you out, then come back. We’ll talk about your ability to stay calm under pressure.” Tony got to his feet, and slowly moved towards the door.