“Working on it.” She reaches behind herself, behind the seat. “You okay, babe?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” I crawl awkwardly, painfully over the console and into the front seat again. “Luckily for us, they weren’t very good shots.”
“That’s how many we’ve eliminated, now? Five?” she asks, looking at me.
I do a mental count out loud. “Two in the alley, one in the truck, two in the sedan. Yeah, five.”
“How many can he send?”
I shrug. “No way of knowing. He can give them a few thousand dollars or whatever currency they want and promise them double upon confirmation of our death. He doesn’t lose much even if we take out most of them, since then he doesn’t have to pay them…and if they were to get us, he’d only owe one or two guys anything. It’s chump change. Those first two in the alley were at least ex-military, I think. These other three? Third rate criminals at best, judging simply by their lack of coordination and poor marksmanship.”
Sirens grow louder, approaching from several directions.
“You have to get off this road,” I say, trying to watch in every direction at once. “We cannot afford an encounter with local law enforcement.”
She makes a right, accelerates to the next intersection, a left—we spend the next few minutes turning and accelerating and turning again, until the sirens are in the distance again. Completely by happy accident, we find ourselves in the more tourist-friendly area, with a large body of water on our right—not the ocean. Here, there’s traffic, and the streets are more well lit. A few wrong turns and circling the same block, and we finally came to a large roundabout that features a Marriot.
I pulled out the roll of cash I’d liberated from the dead bodies—they’d been paid in cash, and had been paid at least a grand each in a mix of currencies, which meant we had plenty with which to pay for a night here. I pocket the rest and make short work of stuffing our gear into the backpack.
“The Marriot,” I said. “Just drive up to the front like you own the place.”
She eyed me. “We’re both covered in blood.” A wry expression. “And now the truck is riddled with bullet holes. Again.”
I shrug. “They’re looking for us. We know that. We know they have at least a description of our car, if not of us, which also seems likely. If the car is in a valet lot somewhere and we’re holed up in a room we paid for in cash under fake names, we might actually stand a decent chance of staying off their radar for a minute.” I smile at her. “This was your idea, Rin. Second thoughts?”
She shakes her head. “No. I just…no. You’re right.”
She pulls up under the portico, and a uniformed valet approaches us.
I palm a US $50.
Rin’s eyes widen. “Shit, the rifle!” She reaches across me and grabs it, breaks it down into several parts in what must be record time, and shoves the pieces into the bag.
I eye her with a smirk as the valet reaches for her door. “That was incredible.”
She winks. “Sasha made us learn how to strip and clean most of the popular assault rifles and pistols until I, at least, can do it nearly blindfolded.”
“Sir, madam.” The valet’s face is carefully neutral as he holds the door for Rin. “Welcome to the Marriot Hotel. Do you have any bags?”
I shoulder the heavy backpack, moving it carefully so the many and various weapons don’t clank; the rifle doesn’t quite fit, and I had to do some hurried rearranging to get it to zip. “Just this, and I will hold on to it.” I approach the valet and slip the bill into his hand. “You have never seen this car,” I murmur. “You have never seen me or her.”
A surreptitious glance at the bill in his hand, and then at the obvious bullet holes in the side of the SUV. His eyes narrow. “I see many tourists every day, sir. How can I be expected to remember one or two?”
I pat the hood of the Toyota. “Just take care of my baby. She has been through a lot.”
A fingertip touches a bullet hole in the metal. “I think you are right.”
I laugh, as if something is uproariously funny. “Those are not new. They were there when I bought this beauty. Gives it some character, no?” I’m playing up my Greek accent. “Park it where no one can see it, so no one is tempted to steal such a treasure.”
The valet smirks, quickly hiding it. “I will do this, sir. Enjoy your stay.”
I breeze past him toward the entrance, taking Rin’s hand. “Play the tourist, like you did to borrow that phone,” I murmur under my breath. “Look around like you’ve never seen anything like this place.” I dig in the backpack and pull out the hat. “Put that on. Hide your hair.”
She hurriedly tucks her long blond hair up into the hat and pulls the brim low. “Better?”
I nod, and take her hand again. “Much.” I smile brightly as we reach the front desk. “Now just play along.”
The clerk behind the desk is a young woman, black hair bound neatly back, wearing a western suit and a wide smile. “Good morning, and welcome to the Tunis Marriot. Do you have a reservation with us this morning?” Her eyes scan us—we’re a mess. Covered in blood, bruises, cuts, and scrapes.
