She did not bother trying to disguise her presence from the guards; there was no sense in that. Instead she lurched drunkenly down the hallway, wavering from side to side.
“My general,” she called flippantly. “Where is my general? I have come as you told me….”
She walked straight toward the two guards.
“He sent for me,” she announced to them, tottering on her high heels.
The two guards gazed at each other but neither moved or spoke.
“Tell him I’m here, please,” she requested, as if assuming they knew who she was and had been given notification of her expected arrival. “You’d best hurry. The guests downstairs are growing impatient.”
The next moment was one of doubt, and Evira seized it. The Greysa pistol was in her hand before either guard could notice the motion; not to fire, since that would have given her away to the target within. Instead Evira rammed the heavy pistol’s butt into the bridge of the closest guard’s nose. The man had barely even slumped when she whipped around and struck the second guard across the face with the barrel, opening a nasty gash. He was stunned, but still able to start for his rifle when Evira grasped his head in her free hand. She pinned it long enough to pound his skull twice with the Greysa. She felt him go limp.
Sensing movement, Evira swung back toward the first guard. His face was a sea of blood as he struggled to bring his rifle up, and his mouth was starting to form a warning to the man inside the room. Before any sound could emerge, Evira drove the point of her heel straight into the soft flesh of his throat. The guard was jolted backward, eyes bulging, when she cracked the pistol with all her might into his temple. His body kicked once and then spasmed over on the floor.
Concerned over the sounds of the commotion, Evira hesitated not at all. She steadied the Greysa pistol in one hand as she reached for the door knob with the other.
Chapter 21
The knob wouldn’t turn, the door locked from the inside. Not surprising by any means, but still something she had failed to consider. In her mind she had seen herself plunging straight inside and shooting Hassani on sight, emptying her clip into him. She would have to think of something else now.
The door, like the wall around it, was made of rich, ancient wood. It would be impossible to kick or shoulder through without alerting Hassani to the impending attack. Certainly she could not wait for him to emerge on his own. Evira thought fast. She wiped the sweat from her palm, re-gripped the Greysa, and knocked lightly on the door.
“Message for you, General,” she said, lowering her voice to disguise it as a man’s.
She waited, heard nothing. A dread fear filled her that she had walked into a trap, that either the chambers beyond the heavy door were empty or a host of Revolutionary Guardsmen lay in wait behind it. Still she knocked again.
“General?”
She heard the footsteps first, then an impatient voice from within.
“Coming.” The sounds of locks being turned now. “There better be good reason for this interruption. I was just ready to—”
Evira watched the double doors being pulled back.
“—come down. Now what is—”
She didn’t hesitate. All she saw was a glimpse of Hassani’s face and the bold black-green uniform beneath it. The Greysa came up, and before she knew what she was doing, it was erupting in her hand. The first bullet took the general in the face, obliterating his features. The next pounded his chest as he reeled helplessly backward. Evira pumped a third into his head and a final one dead on line with his heart. She stood over him with the gun still smoking in her hand and knew he was dead, felt the warmth of satisfaction surge through her. In that instant, her life meant nothing, but only that instant, for in the next her ears caught the sounds of guards alerted by the Greysa’s resounding reports.
Her cold resolve had blotted out just how loud the explosions had been. A regiment of guards was already en route in her direction. Evira bolted for the door, still clinging to the Greysa although clearly it could be of little use. Escape was the thing now, the warm rush caused by her successful execution of Hassani cooling under its consideration. Shouts and screams from all levels of the palace echoed through her ears as she passed back into the corridor.
She swung left outside the master chambers instead of right, hoping for a private stairway on this side of the corridor as well. Sure enough there it was, a virtual twin of the one she had ascended to reach Hassani in the first place. Evira bolted toward it and got there just in time to hear the flood of footsteps pouring up it. She had the instant she needed to duck behind the door and keep herself pinned there after it flew open to allow a dozen guardsmen to rush by for the general’s chambers. She planned her next move for the moment they had all passed inside, planned it perfectly, and plunged around the door and onto the steps without being seen.
In seconds more, guards would be posted at all levels, the presence of a killer obvious. For now, though, the steps were hers. She descended fast after pulling off her high heels to quicken her pace. She almost discarded them, then realized their presence would alert the guards that it was a woman they were after. So she held on to the shoes, at least until an opportune time for disposal came about. If she encountered no further guards en route, there was a chance, just a chance, she could find a way out of this. But how? Hiding in the labyrinth of the palace’s design was a possibility. Yet with the building certain to be sealed and an all-out search conducted, that seemed to be only delaying the inevitable. What she needed was a way out of this building.
First off, there was the blood splattered over the front of her gown to consider. She had to get back to the supply closet in the bathroom and redon her maid’s uniform. Her only chance of survival under the circumstances seemed to lie in getting out of the palace in much the same way she had gotten in. If she were spotted by anyone as she was now she was finished.
She followed this set of steps as far as they went, to a basement area, she guessed, which ran directly beneath the first level. She passed through a doorway into a musty damp space built as a vast play area for the royal children. The sole light came from the meager rays shed from the area of the stairway, and with this well behind her, Evira embraced the darkness. She knew it would hinder pursuit, and she flirted with the notion of hiding down here until a better strategy availed itself. If only she had committed to memory the underground escape tunnel Kourosh had alluded to. If only …
Evira slid on through the darkness as quickly as she could, having to feel her way now. At last a light shining dimly from beneath a door grabbed her attention and she passed inside to find a storage room lined with various food supplies and assorted kitchen necessities. A pungent smell she recognized from her initial entry into the kitchen found her nose and she realized this storeroom must have been located directly beneath the kitchen. She was on the wrong side of the palace to reclaim her servant’s uniform, and there was no way she could make it back unseen to the bathroom from this vantage point anyway. It was also possible the woman she had gagged and bound had been found by now so the Revolutionary Guardsmen knew just what to look for.
What then?
Make use of what you have, would be the advice of Blaine McCracken. And what she had was the kitchen directly above her.
The stairs upward led into the vestibule that permitted access to the dining room as well as the kitchen and ballroom. She chose to enter the dining room straightaway in the hope of finding a single servant to overcome. But the room was deserted, the first course of dolmas, or grape leaves, and cheese portioned out at the individual settings. That left her with only the kitchen as an alternative, and she eased toward the swinging doors that led directly into it from the dining room. She eased one open enough to see chefs arguing with guardsmen over the fate of the meal being prepared. As near as she could tell, the kitchen’s orders were to proceed with the preparations.