A cell phone was ringing. Somewhere through a thick fog, a cell phone was playing the Four Seasons. The fog began to thin, and the music became louder.
Beatrix woke up in a hotel room. The cell phone was hers. Her hand groped for it on the bedside table. She found it, fumbled it open, and answered.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, Kiddo."
"Good morning, Bill."
"I just thought you might like a wake-up call from someone familiar on your first day in Moscow."
"That's very considerate of you, but it's 4 A.M."
"Really? I'm sorry, you know I was never good at that whole time zone thing. Math has never been my forté."
"Could you call back in 3 hours?"
"That I will. But before I go, I just wanted to let you know that there's a bomb in you room. It'll go off in about 5 minutes. Good luck with that."
Beatrix jolted fully awake. "What? A bomb! Where?"
"Sorry, I only get so many minutes of air time per month. No time to chat! Talk to you later, Kiddo." Bill disconnected.
Beatrix sat up straight. "Fuck." This is another one of his tests. He knew they were going to plant a bomb. Bill would pull stunts like this every once in a while to keep all of his Vipers on their toes.
Where would Russian assassins plant a bomb? Under the bed? In a lamp? She couldn't think straight. She craved coffee. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Got to think straight." Check under the bed. Nothing. Desk. Nothing. Drawers. Nothing. She could imagine the bomb ticking down. Things were looking bad for Beatrix Kiddo.
She began to panic, pulling out drawers, smashing lamps, throwing cushions away.
The cell phone rang. Beatrix snatched it up as she ran past the table.
"Find it yet, Kiddo?"
"No, dammit, no! Where is it? A clue, anything!"
"Calm down, there's no bomb."
"What?"
"April Fools. Got ya, Kiddo."
"You cock."
"Sorry about that. Howabout I help you warm up for the week ahead."
"What do you mean?"
"There is, and this is not a joke, a large Russian person with a very big gun walking down the hall of your hotel. He should be blowing your door open any second now. When you meet Mr. Graznyvich on Wednesday, tell him I say 'Hi'." Bill hung up for the second time.
A shotgun blast ripped the door off of its hinges. A huge bald man in a white suit leveled the smoking 12-gauge at Beatrix's head.
"Dobre utra."
"Good morning to you, too." It's way to early for this.
Beatrix woke up in a hotel room. The cell phone was hers. Her hand groped for it on the bedside table. She found it, fumbled it open, and answered.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, Kiddo."
"Good morning, Bill."
"I just thought you might like a wake-up call from someone familiar on your first day in Moscow."
"That's very considerate of you, but it's 4 A.M."
"Really? I'm sorry, you know I was never good at that whole time zone thing. Math has never been my forté."
"Could you call back in 3 hours?"
"That I will. But before I go, I just wanted to let you know that there's a bomb in you room. It'll go off in about 5 minutes. Good luck with that."
Beatrix jolted fully awake. "What? A bomb! Where?"
"Sorry, I only get so many minutes of air time per month. No time to chat! Talk to you later, Kiddo." Bill disconnected.
Beatrix sat up straight. "Fuck." This is another one of his tests. He knew they were going to plant a bomb. Bill would pull stunts like this every once in a while to keep all of his Vipers on their toes.
Where would Russian assassins plant a bomb? Under the bed? In a lamp? She couldn't think straight. She craved coffee. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Got to think straight." Check under the bed. Nothing. Desk. Nothing. Drawers. Nothing. She could imagine the bomb ticking down. Things were looking bad for Beatrix Kiddo.
She began to panic, pulling out drawers, smashing lamps, throwing cushions away.
The cell phone rang. Beatrix snatched it up as she ran past the table.
"Find it yet, Kiddo?"
"No, dammit, no! Where is it? A clue, anything!"
"Calm down, there's no bomb."
"What?"
"April Fools. Got ya, Kiddo."
"You cock."
"Sorry about that. Howabout I help you warm up for the week ahead."
"What do you mean?"
"There is, and this is not a joke, a large Russian person with a very big gun walking down the hall of your hotel. He should be blowing your door open any second now. When you meet Mr. Graznyvich on Wednesday, tell him I say 'Hi'." Bill hung up for the second time.
A shotgun blast ripped the door off of its hinges. A huge bald man in a white suit leveled the smoking 12-gauge at Beatrix's head.
"Dobre utra."
"Good morning to you, too." It's way to early for this.