1-7:Wine, Women and War

‘The Sisterhood and the BSD are going to be having another go pretty soon.’

Donnie expectorated. There was a cigarette butt in the glass.

‘So we have to get in, get out and do it quickly.’

‘So why are we eating?’ he asked.

‘Code,’ she said with the patience of a parent with a two year old. ‘If the salads arrive, it means the alarm system is down. Did you sleep through the last meeting?’

‘That was why I was here,’ said Donnie, bemused. ‘How did you know Panix was here then?’

‘I tapped into the surveillance feeds for the restaurant,’ said Prime. ‘I recognised Panix and made some calls.’

‘But…’ began Donnie.

‘But I’m with The Sisterhood,’ said Prime, predicting Donnie’s question. Then, as he nodded, she added darkly,

‘They don’t know it yet, but I’ve reconsidered my position.’

‘What’s that mean,’ asked Donnie, a little concerned.

‘It means I’m going to give Miss Rook a…’ She grinned. ‘A little gift.’

‘But–’

‘Shush,’ said Prime, nodding toward a fast approaching waiter.

‘Your salads,’ said the waiter. He placed them down on the bar.

‘This one has egg,’ said Prime, clearly irritated, with a glance to the waiter.

‘Is that bad,’ asked Donnie.

‘I’m a vegan.’

‘My sincere apologies,’ said the waiter, who swapped the plates, interrupting Donnie as he poked his fork forwards for a lettuce leaf.

‘You’re not the waiter from earlier,’ said Prime, frowning.

‘Indeed madam,’ said The Assassin, stepping back and reaching into his jacket. ‘My colleague had a sudden bout of easily explainable death.’

Prime stood as did Donnie. She snatched the bottle,  a rather nice vintage from Chateau Maime, from his hands and used it in devastating fashion on The Assassin’s face.

‘Hey,’ exclaimed Donnie, as the bottle exploded. ‘I was drinking that!’

The Assassin spun backwards, at least three of his teeth flying off in another direction and fell over the top of a table. His pearl-handled, silver revolver skittered across the polished floorboards.

Prime dropped the remains of the bottle and stepped over to The Assassin, pushing him over onto his back with one foot. Then she knelt down on his chest.

He gasped as a rib cracked.

‘I’m actually not that heavy,’ She said, crouched close to his face which was bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts. ‘But it’s amazing what a good knowledge of human anatomy can be useful for.’

The Assassin said nothing.

‘For example,’ she continued. ‘If you don’t tell me who you’re working for within the next five seconds, I will do something unspeakably unpleasant to this.’

She pulled his hand up from the floor.

‘You couldn’t possibly understand,’ said The Assassin, then screamed in agony as she performed said unpleasant act.

‘We don’t have time for this,’ she said, looking again at her watch. ‘

She pushed up from the Assassin’s chest, spun and kicked his head, knocking him unconscious.

‘Pumpkin time,’ asked Donnie with a grin. He was ever-so glad she was on his side, or that he was on hers. He resolved never to annoy her.

‘In around five minutes, the BSD and the Sisterhood will be putting the final touches to their declarations of mutual hatred, and their demands for the other side to cease their experimentation.’

‘Experimentation,’ asked Donnie, his memory jogged enough for a nasty memory of cranial operations to drop out. ‘I thought it was just the BSD–’

‘Don’t fool yourself,’ said Prime, hunting around for the cellar door. ‘The Sisterhood have been just as ruthless.’

‘Ugh,’ Donnie shivered. ‘So what happens if they refuse to stop?’