User Guide

“Hello, Anton. How nice to see you.”
Petrie smiles. “Claude. How are you?”
“Fine, just fine. I’ve taken up tennis,
did you know?”
“Oh really, we’ll have to play
sometime.”
“Yes, yes, we really must. So. What
brings you all the way here, Anton?”
Petrie sighs, looking embarrassed.
“This little matter of the billion dollars —”
“Ahhhh —”
“I hate to even mention it. You know I’d
cut you some slack, but the rest of the
board, well —”
“Quite. Quite. The vicissitudes of the
market —”
“So true.”
“Win some, and so on. Well. I guess
you’ll be wanting that Maxima Gold Card
back?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” Guillaume opens a desk
drawer and produces the credit card.
“Here you are.”
“Have time for coffee?”
“Only just.”
1125 Hours
While Petrie and Guillaume share
coffee and cake in his study, Forrester
stands at the top of the stairs, fuming.
Parker reaches out, trying to calm her
down. She slaps his hand away.
“Don’t tell me to chill, damn it! Look at
this!” She jerks an angry thumb at the
bodies littering the stairs, the blood
smeared on the walls, the craters and
destruction in the bay window beyond.
“People died here, and for what? Lives
sacrificed at the pleasure of the rich.”
Parker tries to reason with her. “That’s
what we’re paid for. Every time. Where
there’s money, that’s where we go —”
“Obscene,” she mutters, staring back
at the closed door of the study. “He
doesn’t even feel it. God, I wish I could
make him feel it.”
1200 Hours
Petrie and Guillaume stroll down the
stairs ahead of us, chatting amiably,
Guillaume pointing out his various
treasures. At the foot of the stairs,
Guillaume pauses to point out an ancient
vase on a pedestal, specially lighted,
encased in glass.
“Circa 816 B.C. China.” His eyes gleam
proudly as the vase rotates in its special
atmospheric envelope. “Priceless.”
“Incredible,” Petrie whispers.
They move towards the door. We are
proceeding down the stairs, when
Forrester trips. Right beside the vase.
Somehow, her elbow punches through
the glass and into the vase.
“No!” Guillaume screams in sheer
horror. But it is too late. Forrester pulls
her bleeding elbow out of the case, leaving
vase and glass fragments mingled within.
“Oops,” she says.
“You — you —” Guillaume’s face is
purple with rage as he attempts to spit
out the word: “ — bitch!”
“Sorry about that. How clumsy of me.”
“Do you realize how much that was
worth?”
“Thought you just said it was
worthless.”
“Priceless!”
“Whatever.”
Holding her elbow, Phoenix steps out
the front door. We follow her.
We can hear Guillaume cursing all the
way down to the airstrip.
1600 Hours
Back at the Lair in Istanbul. Guillaume
evidently decided to cut his losses. We
encountered no resistance on the way
out. Petrie has written the Wildcats a
check for payment in full. No craft or
pilots were lost. It’s been a good mission.
Gwen still maintains the vase was an
accident.
Everyone retires to the barracks for a
nap before the night’s action. Back to
Selim’s, looking for another mission. Sell
and scramble, an endless cycle.
Silence again settles over the base as I
start the drive back to the SUDDEN
DEATH offices in Stamboul.
The lone malamute barks his farewell.
I round a bend, and the base vanishes
in my dust.
SUDDEN DEATH •
July 2011
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