The door was now open ten or twelve inches and stopped moving.
Wait.
But consider taking Shadia hostage and trying for a stalemate. It was possible, practicable, and dangerous. But it was not less possible man other moves, and not more dangerous. I think it was the opportunity that looked so attractive so I decided against it.
I listened to her breathing.
The air was perfectly still and she was controlling each breath, but I heard it, and heard the excitement in it. Her shadow was moving, a short linear form bringing in a new component. It was some kind of gun and the muzzle was highlighted by the diffused glow in the room: I would have said it carried a silencer.
This would be the moment.
Later could be too late.
If she saw me now I would have the use of that one final second because her gun hand was against the door and she'd have to move the whole of her body through a right angle before she could take aim and fire. If she moved extremely fast I could finish up running into the first shot at zero range but the risk was calculated and I decided to accept it and began relaxing the leg muscles to whip up the circulation prior to tension.
Empty the lungs slowly. Refill.
Somewhere in the moist air a mosquito whined thinly and we both heard it. She believed that only she heard it. She was keeping absolutely still.
I watched the muzzle of the gun steadily: that was the sole focus of danger and I mustn't let it out of my sight even when I hurled my body against it.
She was within a few feet of where I stood and I could smell the recently-known scent of her body, subtler than the sharpness of the lemon oil.
Final review of situation: she hadn't come here to stand in the doorway and leave again without searching the room and when she began searching the room she would see me and shoot to kill. She was waiting only to make sure that the figure under the mosquito net was still sleeping and in a few seconds now she would move fully into the room.
Findings: it was logical to take her now.
Various sensory data presented itself: my right foot was within an inch of the bathroom doorpost and I would use that to initiate the spring; the muzzle of the gun was approximately waist high and I would go for it with the right hand while the left hand dragged at the door to expose her to the subsequent phases of the attack; the diffused light was sufficient to bring me accurately on to the primary target (the muzzle of the gun), and the brighter illumination from the balcony would give me all I needed to make the necessary movements once the gun was controlled.
Peripheral considerations: she might have time to cry out and for that reason I should make the secondary target her throat; she might drop the gun if I didn't control it before her fingers came open in shock; one or more of the Kobra might come on to the balcony across the courtyard before I could gain conclusive dominance, and I should therefore go in very fast indeed to the primary and secondary targets and use the remaining momentum to pull her bodily away from the door.
In the last few microseconds before any physical action the mind enacts it first, leaving the blueprint for the nervous system to follow. This was happening now but I wasn't conscious of it. Consciously I was tensing the diaphragm, blocking the breath and bracing the right foot against the doorpost But she began shooting before I could move.
Chapter Fourteen: MANTIS
In extreme danger the senses are very alert and I could hear the whine of the mosquito loudening, either because it was coming closer to my face or because the muffled explosion of the first shot had left the eardrum desensitized and hearing was now coming back.
Phutt
Two.
The muzzle of the gun scarcely wavered.
I watched her shadow.
If her shadow moved, I must move, and faster.
Phutt
Three.
The mosquito net shook again, and was still.
This was why excitement had sounded in her breathing.
She held the gun with great steadiness.
Phutt
Four.
Her shadow was misshapen on the floorboards: her arm looked grotesquely thin, reminding me of a praying mantis.
This was what she hadn't been able to do when she was with me. It was what she'd never been able to do, with any man.
Phutt
Five.
Orgasm, The mantis devours its mate, following copulation.
My spine crept.
In my trade we are frequently a target, and when we are quick or lucky we live to remember, and learn to be even quicker next time and to hope for more luck. But our very proximity to the bullet and to death lends an almost banal reality: there's nothing for the spirit to dream on, in the potential smashing open of a skull by a hurtling object.
This was different I wasn't there.
I was some distance away from the target of murderous intent, even though that target was myself. As if removed from my real body by some altered state of consciousness, I was a mere observer, a witness to my own dying; and it occurred to me, as the bullets went regularly into the mosquito net, that this was the mechanism of the voodoo killer who sticks pins in the effigy of his victim.
By small degrees I felt drained of life as each bullet smashed into the bed.
Phutt
'I hate you'
Six.
I know.
The reek of cordite was on the humid air.
In the silence her breath was trembling.
The mosquito whined faintly in the room.
In a moment she went away, closing the door.
'Information,' he said.
I listened for bugs.
'We're blown,' I told him.
There was another silence.
Ferris thought fast but he never spoke fast I waited. 'Where are you?'
His tone was under a lot of controclass="underline" I'd told him the mission was blown and he knew I wouldn't say a thing like that for a giggle.
'Manaus Airport.'
I could see the plane as I talked to him. It was a DC-6, one of the three listed in the Amazonas Airlines flight schedules, and the departure board had it down for 04:20 today, My watch read 04:07.
It was a four-engined propeller aircraft: Amazonas Air' lines was a shoestring outfit flying animal trappers, gold mine-; and Indian jute farmers from Manaus to Belem and back One of the engines was now being started up.
'All right,' Ferris said.
He meant talk.
'The girl has a fever. They're flying her out in thirteen minutes from now.'
'Where to?'
'Somewhere in the United States, as far as I could learn.'
'Washington?'
'I heard it mentioned but I don't know in what connection.'
The four-bladed prop of the second engine, port side, began turning.
'Do you think they're moving to the exchange point?'
'Yes.'
He was listening carefully and I watched what I said: if I'd known they were moving to the exchange point I would have said so and he understood that.
This looked like being the final signal of a blown mission and if there were anything to be rescued we didn't intend throwing it away on sloppy communications, 'How did you get to the airport?'
'I took the hotel jeep.'
'Did they know about that?'
'No. Listen, for Christ's sake, I can't-'
'Don't worry-'
'If London thinks I'm going to waste time-.'
'Relax.'
But he said it like a whiplash.
Sweat ran down my sides and I looked across the tarmac again at the DC-6. The second engine was running now, pouring out a stream of unburnt oil towards the group of passengers.