RainStorm

been able to use the pen to control her, only to
    shoot her, and I didn't want to do that.
    She ignored me. I saw that she was going for her purse, not her
    clothes.
    She must have had a weapon there. I closed the distance in two
    long steps and kicked the purse aside. As I did so, she straightened
    and I saw her left elbow whipping around toward my right temple.
    By reflex I moved in closer to get inside the blow and started to
    get my hands up. Her elbow missed the mark. But she instantly
    snapped her hips the other way and caught me with the other elbow,
    from the opposite side. Boom. I saw stars. Before she could
    chain together another combination, I dropped down, wrapped my
    left arm around her closest ankle, and drove my shoulder into her
    shin. She went down hard on her back.
    To keep her from landing an axe kick with her free leg or otherwise
    attacking with her feet, I got a hand on her thigh and shoved
    away from her. I stood and backed up, watching her carefully.
    "Are you crazy?" I said, my voice low. "What's he going to
    think if you wake him up?" That was the point, though, wasn't it.
    If she'd wanted, or been willing, to wake him, she already would
    have done so. She didn't want him to know about me, maybe because
    of the "video," maybe for other reasons, as well. Trying to
    take me out had been a calculated risk. Then there would only be
    one side of the story afterward.
    There was a dull throbbing in my head -where she'd connected.
    I moved over to the purse and picked it up to make sure she
    couldn't try to get to it again. I didn't know what was inside: lipstick
    Mace, edged credit cards, a pen-gun like mine, maybe.
    Belghazi groaned again. I'd need at least a few minutes to prepare
    him for the injection, even assuming I could do it without interference
    from my new sparring partner, and it looked like I'd run
    out of time.
    "It would have been nice if we could have met under different
    circumstances," I said, rubbing my sore left temple, taking a step
    toward the door.
    "How are you going to get past the bodyguard?" I heard her say.
    That off-balanced me. I had expected them to depart after they
    saw Belghazi to his room.
    I aimed the SoldierVision at the wall and checked the monitor.
    Sure enough, there was a human image just on the other side of the
    door. Oh, shit.
    "Give me the video," she said, "and I'll send the guard away.
    You can go."
    I shook my head slowly, trying to figure out a way to improvise
    out of this.
    Belghazi groaned again. She glanced at him, then back to me.
    "Look," she whispered sharply, "I don't know who you are, but
    you're obviously no friend of his. You've figured out that I'm not
    his friend, either. Maybe we can help each other."
    "Maybe," I said, looking at her.
    "But show me some good faith. Give me the video."
    I shook my head again. "You know I can't. You wouldn't, in my
    place."
    Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "I don't think there even is a
    video. So when he wakes up, it's going to be your word against
    mine. And I promise, he'll be inclined to believe me, not you."
    I shrugged. "What if I told him to check the boot log on his
    computer? I'm sure Belghazi has it enabled. Or to take a good look
    at your 'cell phone'?"
    She didn't have an answer to that one.
    "But I agree that we can help each other," I said. "And here's
    how we can do it. I'm going to hide again. You get the bodyguard
    in here, tell him Belghazi seems really sick, he's been throwing up
    and is barely conscious, and you need to get him to a hospital. You
    and the bodyguard walk him out of here. No one's going to search
    the room after he's been in it, and as soon as you're gone, I'll be
    gone, too. You can have the video after that."
    She was silent for a long moment. If I were caught here now
    and Belghazi got ahold of the "video," or if I blabbed about his
    boot log or her cell phone, her cover, whatever it was, would be
    blown for certain. If I were to leave with the "video," she'd be taking
    a risk, but she might be okay. She understood these odds, and
    she knew that I understood them, too.
    "How do I contact you?" I asked, closing the deal.
    She pursed her lips, then said, "You can look for me in the
    casino after eight tomorrow night."
    "The Lisboa?"
    "No, here, the Oriental."
    "What do I call you?"
    She looked at me, her eyes coolly angry. "Delilah," she said.
    Belghazi groaned again. I nodded once and moved quickly back
    to the bathroom. I took out the Meisterstiick, then hauled