She put a hand on his arm. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll go all the way to the other end, wait for a few minutes, then come back. I’ll just be somebody who’s staying on this floor.”
She released him. Mikhail opened the door wide enough to slip into the hallway. Petra caught the door before it closed all the way, and peered through the crack as he walked away from her. The door to the room was still partially open, like someone had gone through it but hadn’t made sure to close it.
Five feet.
Four.
Three.
Two.
All was quiet.
Mikhail neared the door. As he turned his head to take a quick look, it whipped open.
He jerked back in surprise as a tiny, dark-haired woman rushed out and rammed her head into his abdomen. He flew into the wall opposite the door and slipped to the floor.
The woman leaned over him, her fist drawn back ready to deliver another blow. Without a thought, Petra raced into the hallway, pointing her pistol at Mikhail’s attacker.
“Don’t touch him,” she said in English.
The woman froze.
“Take a step back.”
The woman did as Petra commanded. Only she didn’t stop with one. Three quick steps took her back inside her room.
Petra sprinted for the door, jamming her foot in the closing gap, then she tried to shove it inward with her shoulder. The door didn’t budge as the women worked against each other. Suddenly Mikhail was at Petra’s side, adding his weight to hers.
Combined they were too much, and the door began to inch inward. All at once the force on the other side disappeared, and the door swung open with a bang. The woman had given up trying to keep them out, and was sprinting across the room toward the window.
Petra rushed forward, gun first. “Don’t try it,” she said.
The woman froze.
As Petra took another step forward she could hear Mikhail close the door behind her. “We only want to talk, but if you go through that window, you’re dead. Now turn around. Slowly.”
The woman did.
She was Asian, though which specific nationality Petra couldn’t tell. She couldn’t have been much more than five feet tall, and if she had an ounce of fat on her, Petra would have been surprised.
“Where’s your partner?” Petra asked.
The woman looked unsure of what she meant. “My partner?” Her accent was American.
“The person you arrived with,” Petra said.
The woman seemed to consider her answer, like she was calculating the odds of what response would best favor her. She then pointed at the closed bathroom door to Petra’s right. “She’s in there.”
Petra moved to a spot near the wall where she could see both the woman and the bathroom door. “Sit down,” she ordered the woman.
The woman shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed.
Petra shot a glance at Mikhail and nodded at the bathroom. “Check it,” she told him in Russian. When she looked back, the woman on the bed was staring at her, a curious look on her face. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything,” the woman said.
Mikhail approached the door, stopping against the wall just shy of the jamb. It was hinged on the other side and would open into the room.
After a brief hesitation, he reached out with his free hand, pushed the levered handle down, then gave it a jerk. As the door swung open, he fell back against the wall, his gun trained toward the opening.
Though there was no light on inside, enough spilled in from the bedroom so that Petra could see someone hunched low a few feet inside.
“Come out,” Petra said.
The other woman remained where she was.
“You don’t want us to drag you out,” Petra said.
The woman swayed back and forth a few times, but still made no move to exit.
“Out now!”
The woman on the bed smiled as she shook her head once. “She can’t.”
“Why not?”
“See for yourself.”
