Rosebuds, Chapter 11

The camera exploded in a shower of metal and plastic with one carefully aimed shot from Mireille's Walther. Being careful not to step on the debris, she hurried down the hallway. Students were pouring out of classrooms now and teachers were desperate to keep order. Girls were shrieking and howling. One of the boys actually launched himself at Mireille, grabbing for her gun, but he was no match for the Corsican blonde. She threw him to the ground and turned the corner, just in time to hear a grunt of pain. She wondered briefly why she hadn't shot him.

Kirika was well aware that half the school would be following her as she raced down the familiar hallways, carefully selecting ones that would lead away from the office. Teachers were running madly after her now, but she hesitated to shoot. In truth, she didn't want to take any more lives than she had to.

She turned a corner and stopped short, her heart sinking. There were cameras everywhere. If she or Mireille were caught on footage, it would be unlikely that they would be able to get out of the country without being caught and given a trial. She shattered them with several gunshots, shooting down more as she ran.

Mireille's high heels were no longer clicking on the tiled floor; she was now walking on a sheet of off-white carpet. Just down the hallway she could see the offices, exactly as the blueprints had showed. Her only tasks now were to get through the secretaries to the office, put one well-aimed bullet in the target's head, and get outside. Mentally she scolded herself for messing up the plan. Leaning against the wall, she carefully made her way forward. The alarm had been shut off, but blood was pounding so loudly in her ears that she hardly noticed.

She swung herself around to face the first room, her gun ready and pointed, then lowered it. Surprisingly, there was nobody there. She took a step inside.

A bullet whizzed by her temple and shattered the wall behind her. Mireille ducked for cover under the desk and returned fire. She heard a groan and a thud. Slowly crawling out, she saw the man she had shot.

He was a Japanese man, not much taller than she was, which was rather short. In his shaking hand he held a pistol.

"You figured it out?" he asked, his voice barely quavering although she could see his body shaking. "You know he was a decoy?"

Mireille merely glared at him. Feeling no mercy at all, she fired one more shot.

By now, Kirika had shot down more cameras than she could count. She hadn't remembered security being so tight in this place.

Suddenly a piece of cloth lowered over her face, obstructing her vision and closing over her mouth. Kirika struggled to get free, but her captors held her tight. Somebody else was pulling at the gun, but she held tight and fired a shot. There was a girlish, feminine scream followed by a thud on the floor.

"Shiori!" she heard her captor scream. She recognized the voice then-it was Ayanami who was holding her captive. More footsteps were rapidly growing louder and Kirika knew she had no choice. She aimed the gun over her shoulder and fired twice. Immediately the pressure on her head loosened and the cloth-she saw that it was a simple handkerchief-fell loosely to the ground.

The tall brunette was dead. Kirika didn't have to look at her to know that. But Ayanami was still clinging to life, supporting her body with her left arm. There was a large tear in the left shoulder of her uniform.

"We TRIED to befriend you!" she ground out, her face contorted with fury. Angry insults and curses flew freely, but Kirika didn't reply. When the girl at last stopped for breath, the expressionless Kirika lifted her gun and fired a single shot. She closed her eyes as Ayanami's body crashed the last few inches to the ground.

She'd killed two innocent students. The guilt surged through her as she ran, shooting down cameras. Behind her, she heard the footsteps coming to a stop. Voices rang out in the cold air, first expressing shock and horror, then transforming into wails and sobs for the dead girls. Kirika stopped in a corner to put another magazine in her gun.

There was only one door in front of her now. Mireille had memorized the characters from the blueprint, spelling out "Principal's Office" above the English translation. This was it. She tossed open the door.

She was facing the back of his head. The target sat at his desk, facing away from her. He was obviously not reading or writing, as he wasn't bending over. He sat up straight in his relaxing chair, only the top of his blonde head visible.

"You're here."

He spoke in Japanese, apparently not knowing that she spoke little of the language. It took a few moments for the meaning of the words to sink in.

"Hai. Koko ni imasu."

There was a short pause. "You know everything?"

"Don't toy with me!" snapped Mireille in French, having not understood the last sentence. She held her gun up, aimed at that semi-circle of blonde hair. She would have preferred a better target, but she couldn't see a way to get one other than running around to the other side of his desk, which would leave an escape route open for him.

The room was dimmer than she'd imagined. There were two windows to the west, which let in a bit of light, but the room was filled with bookshelves, cluttering up the space. She wondered how he could work in here.

He laughed. Something in that voice made Mireille shiver. Then the man she knew only as Andre Charbonneau pushed backwards in his chair and turned around.

Her mouth and his mouth formed identical o's of shock. Mireille gasped, the Walther buckling in her hand for the first time. His eyes widened in shock, then slowly returned to their normal size.

"Go ahead and shoot." He closed his eyes.

Mireille couldn't get a grip on the trigger. If only she had sent Kirika in. . . Kirika would shoot immediately, with no feelings of surprise or guilt. Suddenly she remembered Kirika's expression upon seeing them at the coffee shop-Kirika had known. The gun threatened to fall from her hand and she put up her other hand to keep it steady.

"Your Japanese isn't that bad, mademoiselle." He lifted his head and opened his eyes. "Well?"

Mireille turned and ran.

= = = = = = =

Kirika had long since lost track of the time. Of course, she was supposed to meet Mireille outside, but she highly doubted that the blonde would be sitting on a bench outside pretending to read a magazine at this time.

She had barricaded herself in a classroom and locked the door. She crouched down on the floor under the row of windows opposing the door and tried to think. There was no way to tell if Mireille had succeeded in assassinating the target yet. She was still unscathed, but getting out of the school unscathed-and without her wrists in pair of handcuffs-wouldn't be too easy.

Kirika could hear voices outside. She stretched out and lay down, her body parallel to the windowsills. It wouldn't be long before they came to check in this classroom. The windows weren't too high; perhaps she could climb out of one of them once the search party had left this part of the school. She looked down at the tiled floor and saw the shadows of her searchers.

Kirika closed her eyes. Nothing had gone as planned. They had been hoping that Kirika wouldn't have to fire a single shot. If only Mireille could sneak in quietly, silence a few people, and kill the target-then leave the same way. Instead she had set the alarm off and Kirika had been forced to kill nine teachers and two students and destroy many cameras along the way.

She closed her eyes and waited with bated breath even after the shadows and voices were gone.

Then Kirika crept up slowly and started trying to open the window, hoping that there were no alarms on them. They were large panels of glass that seemed to have never been opened. Fumbling with the lock one-handedly did little good and finally Kirika had to put her gun down and use both hands.

The door burst open behind her and Kirika gasped. Teachers and students alike poured in and Kirika reached for her gun, but one of the students knocked her over with a punch. She kicked him hard and came back to her feet, but not before two teachers grabbed her by the arms. A second boy picked up her gun and her bag.

"We've got her," one of the teachers radioed. They began dragging Kirika out of the room.

But Kirika was not ready to give in without a fight. She was wearing hard- soled shoes, the kind that all Japanese schoolchildren wear, and she stamped down hard on the toes of one of the teachers. He gave a yelp and stepped backwards, releasing her. With the free arm Kirika punched the other teacher in the face and ran towards the windows.

She jumped onto a desk, kicking over another student. Briefly she turned, considering getting her gun, but there was no chance of that. More backup was coming, and there was no way she could make a route out to the door. Nor could she open the window.

Kirika took a deep breath and smashed her body through the glass.