Point Blank

foot, driving the upper part of his right foot sideways into the man’s stomach—the roundhouse kick or mawashi-geri he had learned in karate. The guard didn’t even have time to cry out. His eyes rolled and he went limp. Alex felt a little better after that.
    But there was still nothing more for him to do. There was another round of gunfire, then the quiet blast of a second gas grenade. Alex went into the dining room. From here he could look out through the windows at the side of the building and the helipad above. He noticed that the blades of the helicopter were turning. Somebody was inside it! He moved closer to the window.
    It was Dr. Grief! He had to let Wolf know.
    He turned around.
    Mrs. Stellenbosch was standing in front of him.
    He had never seen her look less human. Her entire face was contorted with anger, her lips rolled outward, her eyes ablaze.
    ‚You didn’t die!‛ she exclaimed. ‚You’re still alive!‛ Her voice was almost a whine, as if somehow none of it had been fair. ‚You brought them here. You’ve ruined everything!‛
    ‚That’s what I’m paid for,‛ Alex said.
    ‚What was it that made me look in here?‛ Mrs. Stellenbosch giggled to herself. Alex could almost see the sanity slipping out of her. ‚Well, at least this is one bit of business I’m finally going to be able to finish.‛
    Alex tensed himself, feet apart, gravity center low, just like he had been taught. But it was useless. Mrs. Stellenbosch lurched into him, moving with frightening speed. It was like being run over by a bus. Alex felt the full impact of her body weight, then cried out as two massive hands seized hold of him and threw him headfirst across the room. He crashed into a table, knocking it over, then rolled out of the way as Mrs. Stellenbosch followed up her first attack, lashing out with a kick that would have taken his head off his shoulders if it hadn’t missed by less than an inch.
    He scrambled to his feet and stood there, panting for breath. For a moment his vision was blurred. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Mrs. Stellenbosch charged again. Alex threw himself forward, using another of the tables for leverage. His feet swung around, scything through the air, both his heels catching her on the back of the head.
    Anyone else would have been knocked out by the blow. But although Alex felt the jolt of it running all the way up his body, Mrs. Stellenbosch hardly faltered. As Alex left the table, her hands swung down, smashing through the thick wood. The table fell apart and she walked through it, grabbing him again, this time by the neck. Alex felt his feet leave the floor. With a grunt she hurled him against the wall. Alex yelled, wondering if his back had been broken. He slid to the floor. He couldn’t move.
    Mrs. Stellenbosch stopped, breathing heavily. She glanced out the window. The helicopter’s blades were at full speed now. The helicopter rocked forward then slowly rose into the air. It was time to go.
    She reached down and picked up her handbag. She took out a gun and aimed at Alex. Alex stared at her. There was nothing he could do.
    Mrs. Stellenbosch smiled. ‚And this is what I am paid for,‛ she said.
    The dining room door swung open.
    ‚Alex!‛ It was Wolf. He was holding a machine gun.
    Mrs. Stellenbosch lifted the gun up and fired three shots. Each one of them hit its target.
    Wolf was hit in the shoulder, the arm, and the chest. But even as he fell back, he opened fire himself. The heavy bullets slammed into Mrs. Stellenbosch. She was hurled backward into the window, which smashed behind her. With a scream she disappeared into the night and the snow, headfirst, her heavy, stockinged legs trailing behind.
    The shock of what had happened gave Alex new strength. He got to his feet and ran over to Wolf. The SAS man wasn’t dead, but he was badly hurt, his breath rattling.
    ‚I’m okay,‛ he managed to say. ‚Came looking for you. Glad I found you.‛
    ‚Wolf…‛
    ‚Okay.‛ He tapped at his chest and Alex saw that he was wearing body armor under his jacket. There was blood coming from his arm, but the other two bullets hadn’t reached him.
    ‚Grief…‛ he said.
    Wolf gestured, and Alex looked around. The helicopter had left its launchpad. It was flying low outside the academy. Alex saw Dr. Grief in the pilot’s seat. He had a gun. He fired. There was a yell, and a body fell from somewhere above. One of the SAS men.
    Suddenly Alex was angry. Grief was a