BDP60
"That won't be necessary Doctor." The voice was cold, calm, and worst of all, behind her. Moira spun around, one hand up ready to throw, and stopped. The man was wearing all black, right down to the monochrome barrel pointed center mass.
Burke sucked in a breath as she looked up the silenced pistol to his face. His features were difficult to pick out of the camouflage, but his eyes seemed to float in all that darkness. They were a startlingly pale blue. They were also neutral, giving away nothing, exactly what one would expect from a professional.
"What do you want?" Moira managed to ask around the knot in her throat. She had a pretty good idea why they were here, but she wanted to make sure. After all, she'd broken a lot of rules lately, and probably earned herself some highly placed enemies she didn't even know about.
"You stole something from my employer a few weeks ago. I'm here to get it back. You would be wise to tell me what I wish to know." He smiled, and it wasn't friendly, more like a baring of teeth.
"You're going to have to be a little more specific than that." Burke said casually, letting her hand drop slightly. It was all she could do to maintain a calm façade. Inside she was thinking, 'Oh shit, they're after the data!'
If they were, she'd be better off throwing the acid and taking her chances on getting shot. The files were long gone, and she wasn't implicating her cousins, just because they had done her a favor. There was no doubt in Moira's mind that these men were authorized to torture the information out of her, and after that, well.She had a feeling everyone involved was short listed for a long walk off the nearest pier.
"There was a girl with dark hair and green eyes. Her name is Beth Bronte. You transported her to an undisclosed location. Tell me where she is, Doctor, and we will leave you in peace. If you choose otherwise, well, it would be a shame to ruin such a beautiful body." His pale eyes roamed over the burgundy robe in a manner that left no doubt that he knew what lay under it.
This was it, her only moment. As his eyes dropped, Moira threw the first vial, which shattered against his chest. It splattered outward from the impact point, smoking as it began to burn into his body armor. He jerked on the trigger reflexively, body spasming as the acid bit into his flesh, but he never cried out. Moira threw herself to the side, trying to stay clear of the swinging muzzle.
The silenced pistol made very little noise, but the sound was distinct, and enough to bring his companions bursting through the door Burke had turned away from. The first man through took a slug high in his gut. The body armor saved his life, but the impact knocked him down and the pain was enough to leave him stunned on the ground.
His partner fell back through the door, unwilling to risk the friendly fire. Moira was pressed against the wall, as there was no real cover to be had except back into the tub, which was out of the question. To reach it she would have to cross the door, and two lines of fire.
Burke felt her odds were better where she was, especially as the pale- eyed man's gun stopped firing. He slumped to the ground, head falling at an unnatural angle, and Moira realized why he had been so silent. Some of the acid had splashed his throat, taking out his larynx almost immediately. She fought down the urge to vomit as she looked at the corroded flesh, knowing that now was not the time. 'Later', she promised herself, 'later you can fall apart.'
The third man made a quick peek over the doorframe. It was enough to tell him that his partner was still unconscious, and their leader was also down. He would come in, gun leading, in seconds. Burke didn't have much time. She hefted the second vial of acid and moved for a better angle. She had been lucky not to catch a bullet last time, and had no desire to push it.
He came in sideways, presenting less of a head-on target, just like Burke had thought he would. Her angle was better than before, but not great. She was out of the direct line of fire, but with the way he was moving, she didn't have a clear shot at center mass. Moira could take a chance on taking out his head, or taking out his hand and the gun. Everything was moving in slow motion, a trick of perception that gave her the feeling she had forever to decide.
Without the added oomph of magnesium, she was afraid it would take the acid too long to eat through the metal. Knowing there was no real choice, Moira hurled the vial at his head and prayed. The glass took on a soft glow as it passed under the light, hanging beautiful in the strange suspension of time. Then the vial shattered across the bridge of his nose, and beauty was gone.
Time speeded up again as the third man brought his hands up toward his melting ruin of a face. Instead of screams, the room was filled with a horrible burbling as he struggled to breathe. Moira would have preferred the screams.
She staggered to the first man she had killed and pried the gun out of his hand. Now that she was out of danger, she could be merciful, and end his suffering. The slide was back on the gun. Moira slumped down the wall she was pressed against. The pistol must be fully automatic, and when he squeezed down in his death spasms, it kept firing until the clip was empty.
A rattling wheeze brought Moira's attention back to the other man. As she watched, the blood quit bubbling over the half-melted crater that used to be his nose. The eyelids had burned away, as had most of his eyeballs. Her gorge rose again, and this time there was no holding it back.
Moira twisted and lunged for the toilet, without standing back up. There wasn't time. Fortunately she didn't have far to go. The porcelain was cool under her hands and on her forehead, and then she was throwing up. The wine came up the color of blood, and that was all it took to send her into another spasm.
The black-haired woman hung over the toilet until there was nothing left in her stomach and tears fell freely from her eyes. Finally she sat back on her haunches, hoping she was done. The sharp smell of vomit lingered in the air, making her guts twist. A hand rose up weakly and flushed, getting rid of most of the scent.
Moira knelt there for several more minutes, knowing she needed to pull it together and call the M.P.s. She braced against the wall and stood, trembling from the adrenaline bleed-off and feeling about as strong as a week-old kitten. Burke moved very carefully, giving the dead a wary berth. She was also concerned about stepping on the broken glass and acid blotches eating into the cheap linoleum flooring.
'Department of Housing is gonna love this', she thought, and fought back the urge to giggle. It wasn't funny, and Moira recognized it for the edge of hysteria that it was. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself together. This wasn't over yet, and in some ways the worst was yet to come. She wasn't looking forward to the questions or to having Haz-Mat come through to clean up the bodies.
Burke padded on bare feet down the hall to the kitchen. She needed to rinse her mouth out and neutralize the rest of her chemical arsenal before using the phone. The last thing she needed was one of the Zacharies to get curious. The open carafe of red wine was ignored in favor of a bottle of lemon mineral water from the refrigerator. The slightly bitter flavor cut through the bad taste in her mouth and the lemon would help restore her electrolyte balance.
She stood there with the cool bottle resting against her forehead, trying to decide the most efficient method of clean up, when the distinct sound of a hammer cocking reached her ears. Moira stiffened. The second man, the one who had taken the friendly fire, had recovered consciousness. She could have kicked herself for forgetting about him.
"Put the bottle down slowly, you fucking bitch, and don't get any ideas. All I need is an excuse." The voice was filled with anger, loathing, and underneath it all, horror.
"That won't be necessary Doctor." The voice was cold, calm, and worst of all, behind her. Moira spun around, one hand up ready to throw, and stopped. The man was wearing all black, right down to the monochrome barrel pointed center mass.
Burke sucked in a breath as she looked up the silenced pistol to his face. His features were difficult to pick out of the camouflage, but his eyes seemed to float in all that darkness. They were a startlingly pale blue. They were also neutral, giving away nothing, exactly what one would expect from a professional.
"What do you want?" Moira managed to ask around the knot in her throat. She had a pretty good idea why they were here, but she wanted to make sure. After all, she'd broken a lot of rules lately, and probably earned herself some highly placed enemies she didn't even know about.
"You stole something from my employer a few weeks ago. I'm here to get it back. You would be wise to tell me what I wish to know." He smiled, and it wasn't friendly, more like a baring of teeth.
"You're going to have to be a little more specific than that." Burke said casually, letting her hand drop slightly. It was all she could do to maintain a calm façade. Inside she was thinking, 'Oh shit, they're after the data!'
If they were, she'd be better off throwing the acid and taking her chances on getting shot. The files were long gone, and she wasn't implicating her cousins, just because they had done her a favor. There was no doubt in Moira's mind that these men were authorized to torture the information out of her, and after that, well.She had a feeling everyone involved was short listed for a long walk off the nearest pier.
"There was a girl with dark hair and green eyes. Her name is Beth Bronte. You transported her to an undisclosed location. Tell me where she is, Doctor, and we will leave you in peace. If you choose otherwise, well, it would be a shame to ruin such a beautiful body." His pale eyes roamed over the burgundy robe in a manner that left no doubt that he knew what lay under it.
This was it, her only moment. As his eyes dropped, Moira threw the first vial, which shattered against his chest. It splattered outward from the impact point, smoking as it began to burn into his body armor. He jerked on the trigger reflexively, body spasming as the acid bit into his flesh, but he never cried out. Moira threw herself to the side, trying to stay clear of the swinging muzzle.
The silenced pistol made very little noise, but the sound was distinct, and enough to bring his companions bursting through the door Burke had turned away from. The first man through took a slug high in his gut. The body armor saved his life, but the impact knocked him down and the pain was enough to leave him stunned on the ground.
His partner fell back through the door, unwilling to risk the friendly fire. Moira was pressed against the wall, as there was no real cover to be had except back into the tub, which was out of the question. To reach it she would have to cross the door, and two lines of fire.
Burke felt her odds were better where she was, especially as the pale- eyed man's gun stopped firing. He slumped to the ground, head falling at an unnatural angle, and Moira realized why he had been so silent. Some of the acid had splashed his throat, taking out his larynx almost immediately. She fought down the urge to vomit as she looked at the corroded flesh, knowing that now was not the time. 'Later', she promised herself, 'later you can fall apart.'
The third man made a quick peek over the doorframe. It was enough to tell him that his partner was still unconscious, and their leader was also down. He would come in, gun leading, in seconds. Burke didn't have much time. She hefted the second vial of acid and moved for a better angle. She had been lucky not to catch a bullet last time, and had no desire to push it.
He came in sideways, presenting less of a head-on target, just like Burke had thought he would. Her angle was better than before, but not great. She was out of the direct line of fire, but with the way he was moving, she didn't have a clear shot at center mass. Moira could take a chance on taking out his head, or taking out his hand and the gun. Everything was moving in slow motion, a trick of perception that gave her the feeling she had forever to decide.
Without the added oomph of magnesium, she was afraid it would take the acid too long to eat through the metal. Knowing there was no real choice, Moira hurled the vial at his head and prayed. The glass took on a soft glow as it passed under the light, hanging beautiful in the strange suspension of time. Then the vial shattered across the bridge of his nose, and beauty was gone.
Time speeded up again as the third man brought his hands up toward his melting ruin of a face. Instead of screams, the room was filled with a horrible burbling as he struggled to breathe. Moira would have preferred the screams.
She staggered to the first man she had killed and pried the gun out of his hand. Now that she was out of danger, she could be merciful, and end his suffering. The slide was back on the gun. Moira slumped down the wall she was pressed against. The pistol must be fully automatic, and when he squeezed down in his death spasms, it kept firing until the clip was empty.
A rattling wheeze brought Moira's attention back to the other man. As she watched, the blood quit bubbling over the half-melted crater that used to be his nose. The eyelids had burned away, as had most of his eyeballs. Her gorge rose again, and this time there was no holding it back.
Moira twisted and lunged for the toilet, without standing back up. There wasn't time. Fortunately she didn't have far to go. The porcelain was cool under her hands and on her forehead, and then she was throwing up. The wine came up the color of blood, and that was all it took to send her into another spasm.
The black-haired woman hung over the toilet until there was nothing left in her stomach and tears fell freely from her eyes. Finally she sat back on her haunches, hoping she was done. The sharp smell of vomit lingered in the air, making her guts twist. A hand rose up weakly and flushed, getting rid of most of the scent.
Moira knelt there for several more minutes, knowing she needed to pull it together and call the M.P.s. She braced against the wall and stood, trembling from the adrenaline bleed-off and feeling about as strong as a week-old kitten. Burke moved very carefully, giving the dead a wary berth. She was also concerned about stepping on the broken glass and acid blotches eating into the cheap linoleum flooring.
'Department of Housing is gonna love this', she thought, and fought back the urge to giggle. It wasn't funny, and Moira recognized it for the edge of hysteria that it was. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself together. This wasn't over yet, and in some ways the worst was yet to come. She wasn't looking forward to the questions or to having Haz-Mat come through to clean up the bodies.
Burke padded on bare feet down the hall to the kitchen. She needed to rinse her mouth out and neutralize the rest of her chemical arsenal before using the phone. The last thing she needed was one of the Zacharies to get curious. The open carafe of red wine was ignored in favor of a bottle of lemon mineral water from the refrigerator. The slightly bitter flavor cut through the bad taste in her mouth and the lemon would help restore her electrolyte balance.
She stood there with the cool bottle resting against her forehead, trying to decide the most efficient method of clean up, when the distinct sound of a hammer cocking reached her ears. Moira stiffened. The second man, the one who had taken the friendly fire, had recovered consciousness. She could have kicked herself for forgetting about him.
"Put the bottle down slowly, you fucking bitch, and don't get any ideas. All I need is an excuse." The voice was filled with anger, loathing, and underneath it all, horror.