said.
Just as we moved toward the short line of people, Captain Timmons came out the door. “No waiting for Dr. Bennington,” he said and gave me a wink. He took the wand from the security guard and started over me with just a cursory wave, and then did the same over Sam, Brent and Barry with not a beep to be found.
When Fiona stepped up, he frowned slightly. “I’m sorry I have to do this, ma’am,” he said.
“I’d rather be safe,” she said.
He wanded down her back without incident and over her purse, where her gun was, but when he came across her front side, the wand began to squawk.
“Ma’am, do you have something metal there?” Timmons had the wand just over her right breast.
“Brass knuckles,” she said.
Captain Timmons gave a great laugh and then stepped aside. “You have a nice evening, Dr. Bennington,” he said.
I took Fiona lightly by the arm and walked in beside her. “What do you have there?” I asked without moving my lips.
“Brass knuckles,” she said. “If I see that Gina woman again, I intend to punch her in the mouth with them.”
“This is for the lipstick?”
“This is for the lipstick.”
I led our group to the reception table, where Reva stood with a phalanx of helpers who checked us in. “Ms. Lohr,” I said. “A pleasure to see you so soon.” I took her hand and kissed it again.
“You, too, Dr. Bennington,” she said. “Your salon is just down the hall. Mr. Drubich is waiting inside. He said you are aware of this, yes? Or that, uh, Mr., uh, Lumpy is, yes?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s correct. I wanted to meet him before our little surprise. It will be more gratifying if I understand personally how important this is.”
“You will be very impressed by him,” she said.
“Would you be so kind,” Sam said, “as to put this on our table?” He reached into his bag and pulled out the oversized check. “Don’t unfold it and ruin the secret.”
“Of course, of course,” she said. Reva handed the check to one of her lackeys. “Place this on table two, if you please. And perhaps we put a cover over it? Would that be good, Dr. Bennington?”
“Please,” I said, “and call me Liam.”
Fiona let out the slightest grunt of exasperation behind me. Just loud enough for my pleasure, it seemed.
“I hate to ask,” Reva said, “but the paperwork? Do you have it?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Mr. Grayson has it.” I turned to Barry but he just stared back at me. “Mr. Grayson, do you have the paperwork?”
Nothing.
“Mr. Grayson?”
Barry actually looked over his shoulder to see who I was speaking to.
“Barry,” I said.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” he said and pulled the envelope of documents from his pocket and gave it to Reva.
She gave the pages a cursory glance. “They’re all here,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Any problems with the check?” Barry asked.
Reva looked at Barry and then back at me. “Should there be?”
“No,” I said. “Mr. Grayson, ever the accountant. He’s the man who has assured InterMacron’s financial security.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said. “You gave me a start.”
“If you don’t mind,” I said, “I don’t want to keep Mr. Drubich waiting on his big night.”
Reva showed us to the other side of the ballroom doors, past two men with earpieces who immediately began speaking in Russian when we passed. “End of the hall and to the right,” she said.
I thanked her but opted not to kiss her hand again, lest Fiona decide to try out the brass knuckles early. The hallway was filled with service people moving about in something approaching a frenzy as they neared the doors to a large service kitchen, from which the sounds of shouting chefs, clanging cutlery and the intermittent bleat of music erupted every few seconds. If there was a shooting, it probably wouldn’t be noticed until the event was over for the evening.
Particularly since no one seemed to pay any attention to the three men standing in front of the doorway at the end of the hall. All three had shaved heads and wore matching black suits and had Bluetooth devices in their ears, making them look like bouncers at the worst Russian disco ever.
As we walked closer they began to advance toward us. They had the slow gaits of men used to scaring other men. No use learning to move quickly when your victims tended to ball up in the fetal position at the very sight of you.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Fiona said.
“Easy,” I said to Fiona.
“On which one?” she asked.
“All of them,” I said. “We don’t need to be hiding bodies tonight.”
“Tell that to Sam,” she said, “in case I forget.”
Sam was beside me, but I could tell he was paying more attention to Brent and Barry, which was supposed to be my job.
“Everyone,” I said, “remember that we’re in charge of this situation. Brent, Barry, whatever I do, you just fall behind and do it, too.”
We kept walking, our pace nice and slow, and the men kept advancing until there were only twenty feet between us, which was when we stopped.
“If you come any closer,” I said, “my coworker Fiona is going to break one of your noses. You can choose ahead of time which of you would like the honor, or you can just let us keep going down the hall to meet with your boss. The choice is yours.”
The three men looked at one another and then back at me without much in the way of comprehension, so I repeated myself, this time in Russian. This got them to laugh, which gave Fiona enough time to put her brass knuckles on and to pick her victim. She opted for the one in the middle. He saw her coming and just kept laughing, because surely the idea was ridiculous, a tiny woman walking up to a hulk of a man with anything approaching malice. He was so tall, anyway, that it would be impossible for Fiona to punch him in the face, a fact he sadly realized too late, when Fiona punched him in the sternum instead, collapsing him to the ground in a heap.
If you feel like you’re the physically weaker person in a fight, the sternum is one of the best places to attack. It’s difficult to defend, it’s easy to break if you know where to punch (just beneath the notch in the clavicle) and no one ever expects to be punched in the chest.
Breaking your sternum is not recommended for those with a low pain tolerance, since it feels like you’re having a heart attack and, with all the blood you spit up, gives the impression you might have a collapsed lung, too. Unless you pass out from the pain, in which case those would be the things you’d feel once you woke up in intensive care.
When the other two men tried to advance on Fiona, it was already too late. She punched the one on the right in the center of his thigh, breaking the long bone there with an easy crunch, which is a break that requires surgery to fix. He’d probably have metal pins in his leg for the rest of his life. Maybe even a slight limp. All things he would also learn once he woke up in ICU.
Fiona swung around and caught the man on the left in the center of his pelvis. Another satisfying crunch. He would find walking difficult for about three to six months. Sex would be painful for about a year, if it ever felt right again.
Unlike his friends, the one with the broken pelvis didn’t pass out. Which was too bad, because he would actually remember the pain far more than his friends would.
The door at the end of the hallway opened and Yuri Drubich stepped out, shook his head and said, “Idiots.” Two men came out from behind him with guns pulled, but Yuri told them to put them down and drag their comrades out of the hallway before someone stepped on them.
