I watched the fat soprano in the tight red dress through my opera glasses
as she sang her haunting melody. I was once again sitting in my empty box
on the right side of the stage. As I watched, I heard soft footsteps come
up behind me.
"Well, gol' darn. Ain't she just a picture?" drawled a familiar male voice.
The hand on my shoulder made me turn around. A tall, blond, but decidedly scruffy-looking man stood in front of me. He was wearing a tuxedo, like most men this evening, but the two days worth of stubble and the wrinkles in his clothes made him stand out.
"Ah, the charming Mr. Larson." I said. "Has Pierre let you off the leash? Talking of which, where is our learned friend?"
"Aw, he's around. You got the cash?" Larson asked.
"I've got the cash, but I don't deal with the monkey." I replied.
"Well now, that ain't polite for a lady...even if the monkey has the Mercury Stone?" Larson shot back.
Larson reached into his jacket and pulled something out. A large glowing yellow gem. He held it out so I could see it. The Mercury Stone.
I pulled a slim black attaché case from under my chair. "Lucky I'm in a generous mood."
Then, from behind me, I heard the sound of a gun being cocked. Pierre. "Ah, crawled out from under your rock, I see."
"No need for unpleasantries, Miss Croft." He said, with his heavy French accent. "I'm afraid I must once again relieve you of your burden."
Pierre took the attaché case and handed it to Larson. I rested my arm on the balcony railing and drummed my fingers. I was getting bored with all these dramatics. "Easy come, easy go." I said.
I held out my hand to Pierre, and, gentleman to the last, he bent down to kiss it. I punched him in the face. He staggered back. Larson, with the stone in one hand, threw the attaché case at Pierre and stepped forward. I stood up, took a step towards him and spun, my leg flashing out and kicking the stone from his hand.
It spun through the air, and I flipped backwards, landing on the rail and caught it before it fell into the auditorium – not an easy thing to do in stilettos. I smiled at Pierre and Larson as I tucked the stone into my garter. The gem was cool against my leg.
I turned and leapt across the orchestra, and grabbed the raised curtain. The startled gasps turned to applause as the curtain came down and I landed safely on stage.
I bowed slightly and smiled as roses landed at my feet. But Pierre chose that moment to open fire. I sprinted of the right side of the stage, as Pierre and Larson ran down the stairs in pursuit. "It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings." I heard Larson say, and smiled at the irony of it.
I ran through a maze of corridors, until I burst out onto a side street, and knocked over a flower deliveryman. "Sorry!" I muttered as I jumped onto his scooter and took off down the street.
"Hey!" he yelled.
I heard the sound of a motor behind me and glanced back. Pierre and Larson were chasing me in a stolen taxi. As I watched, they closed the gap between us, and bumped the scooter from behind. I tightened my grip to avoid falling off and accelerated.
"Buckin' bronco, baby!" Larson yelled.
As the bumped the scooter again, I accelerated, before turning sharply down a narrow alley. The taxi drove past it before I heard the squeal of brakes. It reversed and followed me down the alley.
Ahead of me, the alley ended in a metal grill with a small gap underneath. I grinned and just before I was to hit it, I jumped off the bike and rolled safely under it. I stood, and walked to the grill. Pierre and Larson were still heading for me. I grinned predatorily. They weren't going to make it.
"We ain't gonna make that gap, boss!" Larson yelled.
"We'll make it!" Pierre snapped.
"Ain't gonna." Larson repeated.
I took a couple of steps backward as the car crashed into the grill. The bonnet crumpled and the windscreen shattered. "What did I tell you?" Larson asked, touching a bad cut on his forehead.
"Mon Dieu!" Pierre cried, his face and hands cut from the glass.
I blew them both a kiss, turned and walked off into the night.
"Well, gol' darn. Ain't she just a picture?" drawled a familiar male voice.
The hand on my shoulder made me turn around. A tall, blond, but decidedly scruffy-looking man stood in front of me. He was wearing a tuxedo, like most men this evening, but the two days worth of stubble and the wrinkles in his clothes made him stand out.
"Ah, the charming Mr. Larson." I said. "Has Pierre let you off the leash? Talking of which, where is our learned friend?"
"Aw, he's around. You got the cash?" Larson asked.
"I've got the cash, but I don't deal with the monkey." I replied.
"Well now, that ain't polite for a lady...even if the monkey has the Mercury Stone?" Larson shot back.
Larson reached into his jacket and pulled something out. A large glowing yellow gem. He held it out so I could see it. The Mercury Stone.
I pulled a slim black attaché case from under my chair. "Lucky I'm in a generous mood."
Then, from behind me, I heard the sound of a gun being cocked. Pierre. "Ah, crawled out from under your rock, I see."
"No need for unpleasantries, Miss Croft." He said, with his heavy French accent. "I'm afraid I must once again relieve you of your burden."
Pierre took the attaché case and handed it to Larson. I rested my arm on the balcony railing and drummed my fingers. I was getting bored with all these dramatics. "Easy come, easy go." I said.
I held out my hand to Pierre, and, gentleman to the last, he bent down to kiss it. I punched him in the face. He staggered back. Larson, with the stone in one hand, threw the attaché case at Pierre and stepped forward. I stood up, took a step towards him and spun, my leg flashing out and kicking the stone from his hand.
It spun through the air, and I flipped backwards, landing on the rail and caught it before it fell into the auditorium – not an easy thing to do in stilettos. I smiled at Pierre and Larson as I tucked the stone into my garter. The gem was cool against my leg.
I turned and leapt across the orchestra, and grabbed the raised curtain. The startled gasps turned to applause as the curtain came down and I landed safely on stage.
I bowed slightly and smiled as roses landed at my feet. But Pierre chose that moment to open fire. I sprinted of the right side of the stage, as Pierre and Larson ran down the stairs in pursuit. "It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings." I heard Larson say, and smiled at the irony of it.
I ran through a maze of corridors, until I burst out onto a side street, and knocked over a flower deliveryman. "Sorry!" I muttered as I jumped onto his scooter and took off down the street.
"Hey!" he yelled.
I heard the sound of a motor behind me and glanced back. Pierre and Larson were chasing me in a stolen taxi. As I watched, they closed the gap between us, and bumped the scooter from behind. I tightened my grip to avoid falling off and accelerated.
"Buckin' bronco, baby!" Larson yelled.
As the bumped the scooter again, I accelerated, before turning sharply down a narrow alley. The taxi drove past it before I heard the squeal of brakes. It reversed and followed me down the alley.
Ahead of me, the alley ended in a metal grill with a small gap underneath. I grinned and just before I was to hit it, I jumped off the bike and rolled safely under it. I stood, and walked to the grill. Pierre and Larson were still heading for me. I grinned predatorily. They weren't going to make it.
"We ain't gonna make that gap, boss!" Larson yelled.
"We'll make it!" Pierre snapped.
"Ain't gonna." Larson repeated.
I took a couple of steps backward as the car crashed into the grill. The bonnet crumpled and the windscreen shattered. "What did I tell you?" Larson asked, touching a bad cut on his forehead.
"Mon Dieu!" Pierre cried, his face and hands cut from the glass.
I blew them both a kiss, turned and walked off into the night.
