As soon as the power went out, Adriana had seized the moment. She knew that the chairs were feeble, only held up by two support braces in the back, the other three across the middle of the seat being just for show. When everything went dark, she only hesitated a second before she rocked forward onto the balls of her feet and jumped. The first landing jolted her and only served, she suspected, to loosen the glue holding the antique chair together. She repeated the maneuver, and the second time, the hard landing combined with her weight and splintered the back support.
Getting her hands free only took ten seconds. It wasn’t the first time she had been tied up by a villain. Long ago, her father taught her that if anyone tried to bind her with rope or twine, to make sure her wrists separated in a wide V. This would give the appearance that the rope was tight when, in fact, it only looked that way due to the wrists' angle. Adriana scissored her hands together three times, just enough to loosen the rope so she could escape. It dropped to the floor, and she stepped to the left. Her keen spatial awareness told her exactly where Allyson was sitting. It was safe to assume Immelman hadn’t waved the sword when the lights went out. Had he done so, it would have made a sound as it cut through her neck. And being so close would have put Adriana in the splash zone.
With one long step left, she felt the back of Allyson’s chair and yanked on it. Allyson let out a yelp as she was tugged backward, the legs of the seat accompanying her yell with a scrape of wood on concrete.
Adriana’s fingers worked fast, finding the awkward knot the guards had tied and loosening it in a matter of seconds. The rope drooped, and she made nearly as quick work of the rope on Allyson’s wrists.
A light flickered on the other side of the room, illuminating Immelman’s face and upper body. He’d turned on his phone. Adriana dove to the right near the short tower of boxes just as he turned on the device’s flashlight and brought Allyson into view.
He lunged forward with the light held out and the sword at the ready, hungry to finish what he had started. But then a flash of metal appeared in the corner of his eye, and he stopped and leaned back suddenly. A blade sliced across his right cheek, cutting open a four-inch slash from the earlobe almost to his lip.
Immelman grunted as the fresh sting seared through his nerves.
“Tit for tat,” Adriana said. “Nice of you to get me one of these.”
His eyes widened at the sight. She stood five feet away with a sword that must have been the twin of the one Immelman held.
He roared and charged forward, swinging his weapon with deft precision. Immelman must have kept himself in exceptional shape; he moved like a man forty years his junior. His balance was near perfect as he spun around, whipping the edge of the sword at Adriana’s abdomen. He very nearly struck home, and would have had she not jumped back and sucked in her belly.
It was a common move, Immelman knew, and his second attack compensated for her lack of balance by flicking his wrist and chopping down and across her shoulder. Adriana’s training as a young girl had been with wooden versions of the same kind of sword. While other kids were playing pirates, she was learning how to truly fight like one. Her initial dodge had bent her head over her feet, leaving her right shoulder and neck exposed. She knew what his next move would be and immediately flung her weight back and backflipped toward the stairs.
Immelman’s blade ripped through the air, narrowly missing her feet as she flew clear of the attack.
Allyson’s fear and confusion quickly gave way to the hard lessons she learned on the streets of London, and those that Frank’s best assassins had taught her. The nearest guard fumbled in his pocket for his phone, taking a cue from his boss. When the lights went out, the two men had been so engrossed in their task that they took longer than Immelman to collect themselves and come up with a solution. The seconds they lost were costly. Allyson grabbed two of the legs from Adriana’s splintered chair and launched at the hefty guard just as his phone’s flashlight came on. It cast an almost painfully bright beam into Allyson’s eyes, but the vision of her flying at him with two sticks in hand had to be shocking. She jumped hard and swung her right hand, smacking the wooden rod across the side of his face.
He stumbled back but recovered quickly, stabbing his right hand up as she brought her left around for another strike. He blocked it with surprising deftness, his wrist nearly snapping hers as they connected. His other fist shot forward and landed on her jaw, stopping suddenly two inches behind the target. The blow knocked Allyson onto her back with a thud. The dark room swirled. Her face throbbed. The guard stood over her and reached down. He grabbed her hair and yanked her up. Desperate, she swung recklessly, but his reach was longer than hers, and he sent another cluster of knuckles into her mouth. The punch spun her around and ripped a little clump of hair out of her head as she fell to the floor once more.
Allyson’s lips dripped blood on the floor. She could feel the swelling and the warm, sickening taste of iron on her tongue. Feebly, she propped herself up on her elbows and attempted to crawl to the other side of the room, where she saw sparks flashing in the darkness. A meaty hand grabbed the back of her hair again and tugged, pulling her to the far end of the room. She heard one of the guards tell the other to get the saw ready, that they would start with her. Allyson wiggled and clawed at the hand dragging her along but couldn't wrench herself free.
On the other side of the room, steel clanked on steel as Immelman launched another assault. He stabbed at Adriana’s chest, which she deflected with an upward swing, then she spun right and countered with another slash of her own. Her sword’s edge cut through Immelman’s shirt and opened a fresh wound in his chest. He yelled out, but as she came around for the kill, he recovered well enough to step back and yank his blade across her abdomen. She’d overcommitted, and her momentum carried her right into the sharp steel. It sliced through her flesh, and it would have been a mortal blow had her opponent not been falling away as he swung. The wound wasn’t deep, but it brought a new pain to her senses and tugged at her focus.
She winced but knew Immelman would be coming again. Her right knee bent slightly, and her leg muscles pushed hard, flinging her body into the air. She twisted her body 360 degrees, feet swirling like a helicopter, and landed on her toes, crouching back, ready for another round. The fingers on her left hand touched the wound on her stomach. Tepid blood oozed through them. She had to finish this now.
“You fight well for a woman,” Immelman said. He touched the gash on his side but appeared unimpressed.
“You fight well for an old man.”
He snorted. “Enough fun and games. Time for you to die.”
Immelman charged forward. Adriana sprang from her crouch to meet him, sword raised over her shoulder. Her eyes, while focused on his attack, also took note of the phone in his hand providing the only light in their otherwise dark corner of the room. He brought his sword handle around from the side of his face, whipping the blade around in a long arc in front of his body. Adriana feigned a direct attack with her sword over her head as if she were chopping a log with an ax. He swung with enormous strength, but as she rushed at him, Adriana dropped to the ground and slid on the side of her leg like a baseball player aiming for home plate. His sword sliced through the air, missing the top of her head by mere inches. She cut hard with both hands on the handle and sent the sharp edge through Immelman’s other wrist as he tried to twist out of the way.
The severed hand dropped to the smooth floor. The phone’s bright light shook for a second and then settled, facedown, only providing a low residual glow to the area.
Immelman howled and instinctively clutched at the bloody stump. His weapon dangled for a moment and then dropped to the floor.