Ch. 3 – The Longest Five Minutes
You can't always not get what you don't want / flaunt what you got and what you got flaunt / speak double doom as much as you want / you can't always not get what you don't want… but you might get what you need ~ Tracy Bonham
He was given a new assignment. The kidnapping footage had been turned over to some private investigation agency the next day and they'd agreed to take on the case of finding the missing "Knox". They'd fallen for the bait – they were looking for Corwin, thinking the millionaire had something to do with the kidnapping. The two had been competitors and so it had seemed like a good lead. Now that he was "working" for Corwin, he should have no trouble getting into the middle of things. He was told to attend a very upscale party Corwin was holding that evening. It was very exclusive, but fortunately it was held in honor of the big race Corwin had entered his new car into and since he was now the official driver of said racecar his name was on the guest list.
He was told to attend and these detective people would be there, looking for him. Apparently they had a photograph of him, successfully extracted from the security camera footage. He was to somehow lead them to "Knox" who would be tied up in a room a few blocks away. He arrived at the foot of the tall skyscraper, amidst flashing lights and shiny limousines and walked to the door. He was stopped by two beefy security guards. When he gave his name and it was subsequently located on the very long guest list, one spoke into the walkie-talkie he was carrying and then he was let through. He made his way up to the penthouse/rooftop where the party was held. He was admitted through the doors and immediately found himself a spot near the wall where he could take it all in. The apartment was located in the midst of the newer part of Chinatown, where the office buildings and other apartments rose high into the night sky, cutting off the view of the far off hills and mountains of the valley. It was already very crowded here, though not overly loud. These people were money and it showed in the way they walked and talked, sipping their champagne, laughing good-naturedly at jokes and stories even as they exchanged looks of disdain with their partners. Everything was very much about show and keeping up appearances here. Intermingled with the guests were waiters and waitresses in black and white carrying silver trays of exotic mixed drinks from the bar. There were girls in multi-colored kimonos, heavily made up, bearing plates of various delicacies which the people were gingerly picking through. There was even a fire-eater there, entertaining a crowd. In the midst of it all was Corwin, surrounded by a bevy of girls dressed in gowns that were barely there, despite the breeze. He was too distracted by his company to notice his racecar driver standing there, half in shadow, but it was just as well. He was glad to not be noticed; glad the invite was not much more than a formality.
He was at a loss. They'd told him that it was three women he was supposed to keep an eye out for. Three women? The place was crawling with women! They went on for miles, in every possible color. Everywhere he looked, they were coming around another corner, and in groups too, gobs and gobs of them. He needed a cigarette.
He moved off to where it was slightly less crowded, stood by the wall smoking and watched the goings on from his vantage point, feeling somewhat calmer. How was he supposed to tell the difference?
Then he saw them and he knew right away. They weren't even standing next to one another and yet he spotted all three within seconds of seeing the first one. Two were dressed up as guests and one was posing as a waitress. There was definitely something different about them. All the other women there were just pretty decoration, dolled up, lipsticked and rouged, standing in groups trading catty gossip, or else hanging on the arm of a rich husband or boyfriend, trying to look the picture of success. These ones were definitely not of that stock – there was something in the way they moved that was purposeful, strong, and their eyes held a steely resolve. And yet, to top it all off, there was almost something playful in their demeanor. They knew exactly what they were doing and they enjoyed it immensely. He looked away quickly and took a long drag off his cigarette. When he looked back, as careful as he was, one was staring directly at him. She was dark haired, wearing a long, red dress that offset the very serious look in her eye. There was an instant recognition as they each sized the other up. She was already moving toward him, and quickly too. This was it then.
He carefully kept his face straight and walked the perimeter of the room, careful to keep his gait steady, all the time watching them out of the corner of his eye. Good, all three of them were closing in on him. He rounded a corner, walking down a hall till he got to a door. He pushed the button and the paper-thin shoji panel slid noiselessly into the wall, leading to another room where, thankfully, the elevator was located. He pushed the down button and grabbed his cane out of the stand where he'd left it upon entering the party. Only when he was safely on the elevator did he turn around to face his pursuers. The dark haired one was in the lead and, dropping the guise of a casual stroll, she made a run for the elevator. She was too late by a mere fraction of a second and the door slid shut in her face. He allowed himself to glance up at her as the door shut her out, thrilling in the moment of facing her, facing them all, and coming that close to being trapped.
'This would be so easy,' he thought as he finally reached the ground level and made his way out a back door. He crossed the street, heading for the alley. Pausing on the other side, he heard the door slam open behind him, and defiantly took one last drag, finishing off his cigarette, before throwing it on the ground and running off into the shadows.
Easy indeed.
He should have known.
The actual fight was over within a matter of minutes, but they felt like the longest minutes of his life. He ran down the alley with an easy speed and he heard their footsteps matching his behind him. About halfway through, the alley made a sharp left turn. As soon as he'd rounded the corner he was greeted with a locked gate. It hadn't been locked that afternoon! Okay, improvise time. He leapt up and over a large box lying in front of the gate and turning in mid-air, whipped out his pistol and fired a few warning shots as the girls came into view. To his surprise the girls came to life then, hurtling out of the way with an almost dizzying speed. Their sudden and perfect actions startled him so much, in fact, that, panicking, he emptied out his gun within a matter of seconds, his back to the fence, shooting at anything that moved. He heard the empty clicks, and saw that the girls had heard too, as they sprung from the cover they'd taken, and he flung the useless thing aside. Holding up his cane, he used it to cartwheel himself through the narrow opening in the gate. He took the fall rolling and was up within a matter of seconds. Even that didn't stop them. The black-haired one and the redhead quickly catapulted their blonde friend over the fence and all he saw as he backed up was her heels sailing toward him. He turned and ran, ducking just in time, but she was holding onto some kind of red banner hanging from the building, and using this and the wooden fence on the other side of the clearing as a spring board she made another run for him. This time he wasn't quick enough and a well-placed kick in the chest sent him flying backward into the gate. The other two were already scaling the chain links behind him and in a matter of seconds they'd sprung over him and, flanking their just-landed friend, they faced him, ready to get down and dirty. He too readied himself, facing off in an almost formal sort of way. If they wanted a fight, they were going to get one, women or not.
He held up his cane and pulled on the curved handle, pulling the blade free of its sheath, and tossing this aside, he ran at his opponents, in full attack mode. Before his blade could hit its mark, though, Blondie, leaning back on the two others for support, kicked up real high, pulling her foot back at the last minute, catching him square in the chin. The force delivered behind this blow sent him straight up and over – head over heels. He managed to keep a hold of his sword and land on his feet, but the two other girls, waiting for him to land, kicked out at an eventually intercepting angle. Of course, he was standing exactly where their feet intercepted and this kick, landing again on his chest, sent him hurtling into the gate for a second time.
Feeling that he was getting entirely too chummy with this chain-link fence, and not wanting to lose his nerve, he let out an intimidating war cry, at the same time rising to his feet. He brought his sword up and out to center himself and let out another threatening cry for good measure. Redhead quickly stepped back, out of the way of his flailing blade, while he blocked a blow from Black-hair with his other hand. He whipped the sword at her and missed, but scored a kick, which pushed her back a few feet. Blondie made a kick at his head, which he barely blocked, and once he knocked back Redhead, who was busy going for his knees, he went after her.
She was good, he had to give her that. She easily dodged each of his swings and jabs, all the while running backwards, her arms cutting through the air gracefully. The girl could have been dancing. But he found an opening and took it, repaying her with a sharp kick to the chest, sending her, not up against the wooden fence, but through it. She landed hard and he made to go after her when a large broom handle came out of nowhere and ripped his feet out from under him, slamming him face down on the asphalt. He reacted quickly as Black-hair made an attempt at flattening him with said broom, launching himself into a back flip. On his feet, he used his sword to block the broom, which was swinging toward his face. He spun and they sparred for a few moments, until he again spun around and using the weight of this motion, kicked her hard into the chain link fence. It knocked the wind out of her and she clutched her chest, gasping for air.
He put up one hand to center himself and also to gauge where to aim his blade when, out of nowhere Redhead was on his back, screaming and trying to wrestle his sword away. He spun around and around but she was tough and hung on. He could feel the heat of her through his blazer and shirt, and she very quickly filled up his every sense. Her weapon now, most likely unknown to her, was the scent that rolled off her. It was from no outside source, nothing artificial that had been added. It was her skin and her hair, something unique and strangely nostalgic. Something from childhood… maybe it was only because it had been such a long time since anyone had gotten this close. Whatever it was, it was all over him and taking him into dangerous territory. Half regretfully and half frenzied, he spun his way over toward the side of a brick building where two large metal hook-loops stuck out. He backed into these and she cried out in pain, her grip momentarily loosening. This was all the chance he needed and he reached up, grabbing a handful of her hair. He pulled hard, at the same time flinging himself forward, bending over, the combination of this sending her flying right over his head. He looked down at the handful of scarlet colored hair in his hand. How fortunate…
He took a few defiant seconds to fully appreciate his prize, holding it against his cheek and breathing in deeply, as the three girls gaped in horrified wonder. 'So soft,' he thought. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blondie rise, ready to fight, and more importantly ready to interrupt this most treasured of his few guilty pleasures. He angrily flung his sword at her and she barely spun away in time. He probably shouldn't have done that. Stuffing the hair into his pocket, to keep it safe, he went to retrieve it, but she cut him off, jumping up and kicking at him, which he was forced to block. She then bent over and Redhead jumped on her, back-to-back, bringing her feet over in a deadly arc which caught him square in the jaw. Before he could recover from this, Black-hair jumped up and sent both spiked heels across his face. Redhead caught her and managed to kick him at the same time. It was in the stomach mostly, and did little damage, not like the spiked heel, which AGAIN smacked his face via the Redhead/Black-hair whirling dervish that used to be two separate girls.
They were all coming at him at once now, and he was beginning to see stars. He never even saw Blondie coming until it was too late and she bore down on him like a hungry wolf going in for the kill. Though the second stretched from a seeming eternity, he, stunned and nearly exhausted by these crazy girls, could only back up a few steps and bring his arms up in a feeble attempt at shielding his face. It did no good. She kicked him in the chest, hard enough to send him into a violent somersault. He ended up on his hands and knees near a wall, and looked up shaking with anger and pain. And they… they weren't even fazed! They were entirely ready for another go!
There was the tunnel over his left shoulder, the one that led to "Knox". He jumped up and made a run for it. He'd just have to go back for his sword later. They were quick. He barely had time to hide in one of the rooms down the long hallway, a place he'd already set up, when he could hear them kicking in the doors. His own door hit the wall with a jarring slam and through the tiny crack in his hiding place he saw Redhead take a quick look around the room before leaving. Impatient.
He sat there in absolute silence, listening to them as they found "Knox", untied him, and eventually left. For good measure he waited a while longer and when it had been quiet for long enough he finally emerged. He walked back to the alley, not quite knowing what to make of things. He picked up his sword and after a little looking found the other piece and resheathed it. He remembered that his gun was on the other side of the gate. Damn! Now he'd have to go around the long way to get it. He really didn't feel like catapulting himself through again, he didn't know if his aching ribs could take it at the moment.
He gritted his teeth in anger. Never had he taken a beating like this before! Sure there were three of them, but he should have been able to handle that. He'd trained himself, hard, on working against multiple opponents and that training had paid off when he'd been jumped a few times on the job. These girls were good. He had to give them points for their style and their endurance. He could admit when he'd been beat, though it angered him.
Of course, he told himself as he made his way around the old buildings, he had to let them win, to let them get away. It was part of the plan. McCadden had emphasized that he was not to let it look, in any way, like he was leading them. So fight them a while, get them to chase him, and then disappear. He had to hold back, go easy on them. This had to go according to plan and that is why they were still alive. At least that's what he kept telling himself. Pride is a terrible thing.
Truth be told, looking back later, he realized that in addition to the rage he felt at being defeated by these beautiful girls, something about it all was strangely thrilling. Yeah, so he'd taken a beating, but it had been done with the same form and grace he so strictly held himself to. These girls weren't just brawling – they were fighting. They knew how to fight like he knew how to fight and they knew how to win. Like he did. He no longer felt so alone, but instead experienced a feeling that was strangely like… being understood. In a world of mediocrity, he had finally found a worthy opponent.
Best part of it all – he'd found three of them.