Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"They're closing in on us, aren't they? Oh God, this is one of the situations my low blood sugar level becomes really problematic." Harry looked around, but this was a perfume shop, no food lying around.
"If you don't shut up immediately, a low blood level in general will become problematic for you, matey." Baptiste was watching the back entrance of their hideout. So far no movement outside, no signs of someone attempting forced entry.
But they were there.
"Why?" Harry lowered his voice. "Do you think they're already close enough to hear us?"
"No, but I'm close enough to kill you."
"You sound just like Guerrero. What is it with you guys that you're always so rude? Well, I get it, it's your men's man way of displaying affection…"
Baptiste's fist shot forward without warning, knocking Harry out cold with one single hit.
"About time", Joubert muttered as he took cover behind the counter where Baptiste and Harry were already hiding.
"Junior said he'd come."
"Don't know of how much help he'll be. There's a reason his crew made him temp housecat."
Baptiste nodded. "Would be better if we got out of here on our own. Don't see how, though."
"Maybe a Danish Tart…"
"For a Danish Tart you need outside help, how are we supposed to…"
Joubert interrupted Baptiste and pointed at one of the shop windows. Someone was sending Morse code with a flashlight.
What about Danish Tart, dudes?
Guerrero.
Simultaneously, scraping in the ventilation shaft caught their attention. "I bet they don't realize what this oil stuff does to my skin", Ames complained as she loosened the shaft's grill and climbed into the shop.
"Wow, Wagner's Perfumery Emporium. I've always wanted to go here. They've got all this imported stuff…"
"That's Guerrero's idea of pulling off a Danish Tart? Sending a girl in underwear? You're not even armed!" Baptiste shook his head. This fighting-the-good-fight-thing apparently affected the brain cells.
"I am armed!"
Both men gave her appearance questioning looks.
"Darling, there's no place where you could have possibly hidden…"
Ames reached into her bra and the Old Man stopped talking. He was definitely not that old. It didn't help that the oil left a trace on her skin.
"A transponder?", Baptiste asked, eyeing the small silvery object – and, yes, its hiding place, too – with approval.
"We'll sent a bomb attached to a skateboard down the street, right between the thugs. The signal will be triangulated with a second signal from the van, it'll ignite the detonator very precisely. All you two have to do is turn your cell phones off, this transponder thingy is rather sensitive to radio waves."
Joubert and Baptiste got ready to carry Harry out of the shop once the bomb would create a distraction. The van with Ilsa and Winston would pick them up outside. Hands slippery, Ames sent Guerrero a text message, then turned her own cell phone off and activated the transponder. Now it would only be a matter of seconds…
They could make out movement outside.
Something was rolling down the street.
It came closer, was heading straight towards where they guessed the thugs were hiding…two more seconds and it would be in the perfect position….
Night fever, night fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that night fever, night fever.
We know how to show it.
Harry's cell phone rang.
Ames, Joubert and Baptiste just had time to throw themselves flat to the ground, dropping Harry rather unceremoniously in the process, before the bomb on the skateboard exploded right outside the entrance. The impact shook the whole shop, display cabinets sprang open, hundreds of perfume bottles crashed to the ground, drenching them in all sorts of scents.
"Uh, was that my phone?", Harry asked dizzily, slowly becoming coherent again.
Outside, gunshots were being fired. "Time for Plan B!", Joubert shouted and threw Ames a gun. It slipped from her oily hands, fell to the ground, somehow the safety catch got released, the gun fired. A bullet barely missed Baptiste's neck.
"Uh, sorry…"
"Plan C", Joubert groaned. "You and Harry to the backdoor, Baptiste and I try and give you cover." Ames grabbed Harry's arm and started dragging him towards the back. Just then a second explosion shook the ground, blew a giant hole into the wall at the far end of the store and set the building on fire. In the distance police sirens started to wail.
"Don't tell me Guerrero forgot perfumes are highly inflammable – we can't go through there!", Baptiste yelled.
"His way of saying we should go to the back!", Ames yelled.
They had no time to debate whether this assumption was correct or not. Like a brightly red wave the flames came rolling towards them, causing all bottles that had remained intact to explode, one after another, a long, long sequence of tiny detonations.
They raced outside and almost ran into the van, coming to a stop right in front of them with screeching tires.
"Ilsa, I swear it was not my idea and nobody could know the first bomb would explode too early…", Winston was yelling over the noise of the explosions in the shop.
"We just lay a whole street in ashes! How the hell am I supposed to explain that to Connie and the board?"
"I'm sure you'll come up with something. You're good at that", Guerrero told her from the back as he helped the others in.
Ilsa felt the urge to throw something at him.
… … …
Meanwhile at the office Chance had an unexpected visitor. "Didn't know you were doing house calls", Chance addressed Grace with a playful smile. "And so early in the morning."
"Only in cases where the patient is chained to something solid", she replied. "I had an emergency in the vicinity and thought I'd stop by."
Judging from her clothes, make-up and hairdo, Chance guessed more in the direction of a date gone wrong, probably cancelled at the last minute, followed by a night of anger and finally the decision to try it elsewhere… He felt sorry for her. She was a beautiful woman.
"How did you know they'd chain me?"
"Either that or permanent sedation. Don't see how else to get you to take a break. I figured in both cases you could need a medical check-up." She placed her bag on the coffee table and sat down right next to it, crossing her rather long, slender legs. Yes, she was definitely looking for company. And it would be so easy… Comforting her…
"There was a time when you would have happily let me rot in peace."
"You've come by more often lately, after years of just occasional visits. I got a chance to actually form an opinion on you. You truly have changed your ways." She inched closer to him.
"I always knew you stood up for me when Joubert and Guerrero were planning to kill me."
Chance coughed uneasily. "That's ancient history, doc."
Suddenly Carmine jumped up and practically fled the room. The elevator dinged and out stepped the whole crew – accompanied by an almost visible cloud of all sorts of flowery scents.
The men were busy arguing over who'd get to use the showers first, with Winston telling Harry repeatedly that it would be a lot wiser if he shut up – immediately. The women, however, saw Dr. Grace, and although she had moved away from Chance rather quickly it took them a single look to decipher what she had been up to.
How much Chance had been willing to participate, however, was harder to tell. At least he was still fully clothed.
"Dr. Grace", Ilsa greeted her friendly. "What a wonderful coincidence! We need your skills – you are familiar with the procedure of removing a tattoo, aren't you? I know it's on short notice, but…"
Assisted by Ames, Ilsa led Dr. Grace and Harry back into the elevator. Guerrero had suggested to have the removal of the tattoo filmed and then published, on YouTube and the likes. Since it was a black light tattoo nobody would see the secret map, but his pursuers would see the evidence that Harry wasn't carrying it anymore and thus, with a little luck – and who had more luck than Harry? – would refrain from chasing him.
Chance fell back onto the sofa. Jeez, and this was supposed to be restful for him?