Jennifer immediately stood up when she saw John run through the entrance door.
“Jen… the assassin is in the building…. And she’s on her way here! … She could be here any second!” Every phrase was an effort after his sprint up the stairs.
“My God, the assassin, Dad! The assassin is here!” she whispered, a little too loudly, to David.
“Quiet!” John hissed, pointing at the door.
They all looked, and then heard it. There was the sound of a lock being picked. Jennifer took off her slippers and held them. She motioned to David to do the same.
“The safe room! The closet in the main bedroom!” Jennifer rushed the words out, her heart starting to palpitate. She grasped David by the hand, and they ran out of the living space and into the small lobby leading to the bedrooms.
“No, wait!” John had raced in front of Jennifer, but she passed straight through him before being able to stop.
“Aargh!” Jennifer barely restrained herself to a whisper, as she felt the freezing cold shoot through her.
“Hide in the other bedroom’s closet!”
She looked at him, confused.
“Trust me, Jen, if you survive this time, she won’t stop until she gets you and your father another time.”
“You mean trap her?”
“It’s the only way. Leave it to me.”
Jennifer had a split-second to decide. Blood pulsated through her head; the stress was becoming unbearable. “OK,” she gasped as she fought for breath.
“Other closet!” she whispered to David and pulled him in another direction.
Before he could argue, they heard the entrance door click open. Jennifer and David moved as quickly and quietly as they could along the marble floor and into the walk-in closet of the second bedroom, closing the doors behind them. The expensive, German-made hinges were both smooth and silent. They stood with only the sound of their quickened breathing and heartbeats pounding.
John had moved to the end of the wall to look around the corner at the entrance foyer. He could see the assassin sideways on as she approached the study, the first room from the foyer, with her arms outstretched, holding a black pistol with a suppressor. Her profile was sharp and her features unmistakably Asian and fiercely attractive. She looked every part the elite assassin, clearing all angles in the sector of the room she could see through the open doorway, the muzzle and her eyes always pointing in the same direction. She looked through the gap between the door and the frame and then entered the room in seconds.
John didn’t wait for her to emerge. He had to think of a way to lure her into the safe room and then use the room’s secret function to lock her inside. He would have to do it before she got to the closet of the second bedroom.
He made his way to the master bedroom, through the en-suite closet and the bathroom that doubled as the safe room. Somehow, he would have to get her to come a sufficient distance into the bathroom so that she wouldn’t have enough time to stop the safe room door from closing. He looked around for something he could use to attract her attention and spied a couple of perfume bottles. He made the surface of his fingertips connect with one of them and pushed it off the shelf. It fell onto the floor with a loud clatter. She must have heard it, and would surely run in at any second. Now all he had to do was wait.
But she didn’t run in. He cursed softly. He had underestimated her. A professional killer wouldn’t be so easily distracted and risk the escape of a target from an unchecked room.
Fearing that Jennifer and her father were about to be discovered, he was about to run out to the assassin when he saw the suppressor of the gun slowly appear. He was to her right, and, as he had hoped, she first went to clear the section of the bathroom to her left, eyes following the arc of the barrel. Then the muzzle and her face swung round to her right. John had already started moving toward her, intent on passing her in the doorway, when he saw her face. He was expecting her to be beautiful and her eyes to be vacant of emotion. He was right on both counts, but beyond her soulless, mortal eyes flashed fire, orange fire. She was possessed!
As he passed her, the head of the possessing spirit emerged momentarily. It was the rugged face of an Asian man with a strong square chin, hair pulled into a tight bun on top of his head. He looked like a Samurai warrior John had once seen in a history book. Or was he a ninja? Wasn’t that worse? The girl was the perfect host for a spirit with the same mindset as her: a fellow assassin. Two killers in one.
John ran to the hidden, armored door. Within seconds the assassin would clear the bathroom and notice the door closing. He pulled the door handle, swinging the door outward, and twisted the top knob below the handle. The central panel swiveled out from the frame. The assassin slowly exited the bathroom, still pointing her gun in front of her, still sweeping its barrel––this time to clear the corners of the closet on either side of the doorway––before quickening her pace and moving toward what appeared to be a door closing in two parts on its own. She approached John with the face of her possessor now imprinted on her own, both expressions cold and calculating, only one registering John’s presence.
He passed backward through the doorway and out of the room just as the outer section of the two-part door connected to the doorframe and was locked in place. The inner panel was still catching up and had only passed the halfway point, on its way to connect
