Carrying her nearly empty tray, she eased closer to the alcove, pretending to offer champagne to the ladies as they emerged. When there was a lull in the flow of traffic, Evira ducked into the alcove. As expected, there before her was a heavy wood door leading into a ladies’ room, unoccupied at present unless she badly missed her guess. She propped the tray up against the wall, eased her hand over the knob, turned it, and pushed the door inward. She entered, prepared to pretend she was there to tidy up if approached.
The bathroom was indeed deserted. It, too, was lavish and smelled strongly of lavender. Evira entered one of the stalls and locked the door behind her. There was a crack sufficient for her to peer through, and she agonized through the comings and goings of several small groups of women, knowing she could only execute her plan if one entered alone. At last her patience was rewarded by the sight of a single beautiful woman entering the room. As the woman’s hand pushed open the door to the stall two down from hers, Evira sprang outward and grasped her by the neck. She quickly located the carotid arteries and squeezed off the blood flow to the woman’s brain. Then she dragged her into the stall on the chance that another guest was about to enter.
The woman was unconscious within twenty seconds. Evira’s next task was to get her victim inside what must have been the supply closet located just to the right of the bathroom’s entrance. Evira’s heart was thudding madly as she slid out of the stall and moved quickly for it. She held the woman’s unconscious frame in one arm, while the other reached to grasp the closet door’s knob.
It wouldn’t turn. Locked, damn it, locked!
Immediately Evira’s ears probed for the inevitable clip-clapping of high heels against the hardwood floors where the carpeting ended outside the main door. At most she judged she had another minute, with the chance of considerably less than that. She eased the woman down and grabbed in her pocket for the pair of safety pins Kourosh had gotten for her.
Evira felt sweat starting to form on her brow as she knelt to work one of the pins into the lock. She jerked it too hard and it bent. She withdrew it with care and fingered her second one. Working more carefully, she inserted it into the lock and began to feel for the tumblers. She closed her eyes to better picture its insides and at last felt it give. The knob twisted in her hand and the door opened inward.
She pulled the unconscious woman into the supply closet and managed to get the door closed just before a new group of women entered the bathroom. Evira didn’t make a move or a sound, was careful to keep a hand close to her victim’s mouth just in case she stirred unexpectedly. When this latest group of women had gone, she found the closet’s light switch and went to work on her prisoner.
The woman was just about her size, a blessing indeed. After quickly removing her gown, stockings, and formal shoes, Evira went to work stripping away parts of her undergarments to bind and gag her. As further insurance, she tied the woman’s bound hands and feet to a storage rack well away from the door itself. Confident her captive was secure, Evira removed the maid’s uniform and struggled into the gown, adjusting it as best she could. The stockings were a perfect fit, but the high-heeled shoes presented a problem. Evira grimaced as she squeezed them over her feet. It had been years since she had worn such shoes, and these were at least one size too small.
Evira worked through the sounds of women coming and going in the bathroom, no longer able to afford the luxury of patience. Hassani was sure to make his entrance soon. When the bathroom was next deserted she slipped out of the supply closet and made straight for the mirror. Everything considered, she didn’t look at all bad except for her hair, which simply didn’t match the part she was trying to play. She picked at it as best she could and hoped she could pass a cursory scrutiny when she returned to the ballroom.
The door to the bathroom opened and Evira turned with a start. A pair of women entered but gave her only passing notice. Avoiding their eyes, she slid out the door.
She could tell already the too-tight heels were going to be a real problem if fast motions were required of her. But she would have to put up with them for now. Returning to the ballroom was unthinkable. She could be recognized by another of the servants or, worse, the gown she had donned might be recognized and her entire plan thrown into shambles.
What she needed was to make use of the nearest route upstairs. The problem was the only stairs Kourosh’s drawings had included necessitated her risking an approach through the ballroom, and those would be too heavily guarded in any event. She moved out of the alcove and turned left instead of making the right that would have taken her back into the ballroom.
Her heart pounded excitedly at the sight of another door. She opened it and breathed easier when she saw a staircase climbing upward for the second floor and the royal chambers where Hassani must still be. It was secluded and would give her room to maneuver even if it were guarded. She realized she was wearing a good disguise, because even the guardsmen would approach her with respect and reverence, not wanting to risk the penalties of insulting an honored guest. That would give her the time she needed to deal with them.
She began her ascent of the staircase, starting to consider now the problem of finding a weapon, when she noticed the shape of the single guardsman on duty on the landing. Suddenly the last pieces of her plan were in place, and Evira approached the guard with a wide, disarming smile. Just as she drew close to him, her right hand shot out in a half fist. In the dim light he never saw the blow coming, and it rammed unimpeded into his Adam’s apple, crushing it. The guard pitched to his knees gasping, still with the sense to claw for his weapon. Evira jammed it to the rug with her foot as she leaned far enough over to smash him across the face with the back of her forearm. The guard fluttered into unconsciousness. Death would come soon, and not wanting to risk letting his corpse be found, Evira dragged him into a darkened alcove on the second floor.
A weapon was hers for the choosing now, and she rejected the rifle in favor of the Soviet-made nine-millimeter Greysa pistol. It was bulky and poorly weighted, but it could be concealed in the back of her gown.
Knowing from Kourosh’s drawing exactly where the royal quarters were located, she cut across the corridor to the head of the wall. Evira trembled with the realization that her target was only a single turn away. She reached the wall and peered around it. Before her, three-quarters of the way down the hall, a pair of armed guards stood vigilantly outside the massive door leading into the royal chambers. Evira eyed the men carefully from her position. They were both armed with automatic rifles, obviously formidable and just as obviously guarding the general himself.
Evira’s heart leaped with expectation. The fact that she had come this far and was so close to the completion of her task, made her almost forget that not only did she have to overcome the guards, but that she must do so without attracting the attention of Hassani within the chambers. The slightest misjudgment or mistake on her part and he would trigger an alarm that would summon the whole of the palace’s security force to this very spot.
Accordingly, her next thought was simply to wait for the general to emerge and to shoot him as he headed for the main staircase. But that plan was fraught with risk, a shot from anything but point blank range with the Greysa not being totally reliable. Moreover, the guards might spot her and prevent her from taking action. No, she had to spring on Hassani where he felt the safest. Wasting no further time, Evira steadied herself and headed around the corner.