had used it before. The stink of sweat and tobacco wafted off him like a noxious fog.
Jet quickly sized them up. These were common muggers, thieves that plagued the more prosperous areas of most Venezuelan cities, on the prowl for easy targets of opportunity.
Tonight they’d picked the wrong victim.
She debated possible tactics as they moved slowly around her, circling, trying to get behind her. There was a small amount of primitive strategy to their movements — they stayed well separated so she could only focus on one at a time. Under any other circumstances, it would have been a good gambit.
She decided on subterfuge and misdirection as opposed to a frontal assault. Let them come to her.
Her eyes widened as she swung her head around in fright.
“Please. Don’t hurt me. I don’t have any money, and I…I know karate.” She sounded convincing. The tremor in her voice as she said ‘karate’ was particularly feeble.
The smaller man laughed, an evil, humorless bark and, without saying a word, stepped towards her and swung the pipe at her shoulder.
From there, everything happened fast.
Her kick caught him in the groin, arresting the swing as he let out a moan and doubled over. She kicked him one more time, this time in the head, and he sprawled onto the filthy pavement, the pipe banging against the surface before rolling from his grip.
The younger man rushed her, but she easily blocked the upward sweep of the knife and leveled a brutal strike to his throat with a closed fist. His free hand clutched at his windpipe as he fought for breath, and she slammed her good hand into his knife arm. He dropped the blade with a clatter and bent over, struggling for air.
She watched him gasping. She hadn’t landed a lethal blow, choosing to pull the strike at the last second, so he would eventually recover. Still, neither one of them would be mugging anyone in the near future.
“Pick up your buddy and get the hell out of here before I tear your arms off and beat you over the head with them,” she said in a low voice as she knelt and grabbed the knife, eyes on her incapacitated assailants.
The man on the ground groaned as the younger one staggered over to him.
There was nothing more to see. It would take them a few moments to collect themselves and be able to walk, by which time, she’d be long gone.
Jet scooped up the plastic bag with her clothes in it and backed out of the alley, watching the motley pair to ensure she wasn’t surprised by an unexpected burst of stamina from either man, then hurried up the block and entered her hotel. She was reassured to note that her respiration and heart rate were normal. This was the old Jet. The instincts that had served her so well had come back quickly.
Not all of them, though.
She hadn’t killed either mugger.
In the old days, she wouldn’t have pulled the punch.
Jet stripped off her clothes and took another shower with cool water before throwing herself onto the bed. She groped for the bedside lamp and switched it off, plunging the room into darkness, the only sound an occasional car rumbling down the street to the beach.
She was out cold within sixty seconds.
Chapter 9
“My water broke.”
The nurse took Maya’s hand and led her to a seat. After a hurried discussion on the telephone, she turned to face Maya again.
“The doctor is on his way, darling. Just come lie over here, and we’ll get you ready. Don’t worry about anything,” the nurse cooed in a heavy island lilt, motioning at a gurney an orderly had pushed through the double steel doors of the emergency room.
With the nurse’s assistance, Maya did as instructed, and within a few minutes, she was wheeled into a private room. Another nurse took her vital signs and helped her into a hospital gown, hanging her clothes carefully in the small closet.
The contractions were coming more regularly, and when the doctor rushed in wearing street clothes, she exhaled a sigh of relief. He performed a brief examination and listened to her stomach with a stethoscope, then told the nurse in a hushed voice to bring a portable ultrasound unit in immediately.
“What’s wrong, Doctor?” Maya asked.
“Probably nothing. Don’t worry. I just want to check something,” he said, but wouldn’t look her in the eyes.
The nurse returned with a cart, and the doctor quickly put gel on the probe tip and moved it slowly around her abdomen. His expression as he watched the monitor was strained. When he looked up at her, he was frowning.
“There’s a problem. The baby’s heart rate is in a critical zone. We’re going to have to do a C-section immediately.”
“No! I don’t want one. I told you I want to deliver naturally.”
“I’m afraid there’s no choice in the matter. I’m sorry. We don’t have any time to waste. Seconds count. Both you and the baby are in danger.” The doctor turned and issued a set of terse instructions to the nurse.
Maya processed his statement, sweat rolling down her face.
“Fine. Do what you have to do. Just make sure my baby is okay.”
He nodded at the nurse, who hurried out of the room, returning in a few moments with an orderly pushing another gurney — this one with an IV bag suspended from a hanger. Maya shifted onto it with the orderly and the doctor’s help, then the nurse started an IV line and motioned to the doctor. He withdrew a syringe from his bag and approached her, then fixed her with a caring gaze.
“We’re out of time. I’m going to give you the anesthesia and get you into surgery. The injection is much faster than gas. Are you ready?”
She grimaced. “Yes.”
He slipped the plastic cap off and then slipped the needle into the IV line.
“All right. Here we go…” He slowly depressed the plunger. “Just relax. Everything is going to be okay. This will be over in no…”
His voice seemed to be coming from a great distance as the room faded and everything went dark.
~ ~ ~
The first thing she registered when she came to was the smell. The distinctive antiseptic odor typical in hospitals everywhere in the world. The lights were low, the temperature moderate. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was.
In her hospital room. She was groggy and felt drugged. Everything was foggy and seemed muted, surreal, slower than reality. It took almost superhuman effort for her to turn her head and look at the window. It was dark out. It had been light when she’d arrived.
Maya fumbled around until she found the call button. She pressed it after a few tries — her hands felt like someone else’s and seemed to lack the dexterity to operate the gizmo.
It was all she could do to keep her eyes open.
A nurse entered a few minutes later and moved to the side of the bed.
“Take it easy, now. You’ve been through a lot,” she said with a look of concern on her face. She looked at the monitor and adjusted the sensor on Maya’s finger, then turned the volume on the box down a little.
“I am taking it easy. I’m awake now. I want to see my baby. My daughter. Hannah.”
The nurse’s eyes darted to the side, and she stepped away from the bed, suddenly all hurried efficiency.
“All right, then. Let me call the doctor. He’ll be in shortly,” she promised, offering a timid smile. The nurse patted her hand and then eyed the IV before hurrying off, leaving Maya to the altered state that was a kind of chemical purgatory. She listened as the nurse’s footsteps echoed down the hallway outside of the door, then went back to drowsing uneasily, drifting in and out of consciousness.
