In Case Of Emergency: an action-packed short story Page 2

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  Troy Maschenov turned away from the door. With the Librarian and the train attendant out of the way, there was only one person left between him and his target.

  Seeing the Librarian had rattled him. No-one was supposed to know he was here in Kamau. He was part of a program which recruited, trained and dispatched agents as young as ten for urgent – and sometimes gruesome – assignments. This program was supposed to be secret. But if one Librarian knew, they all did.

  Time was no longer on his side. He had to complete his mission and get back across the border into Besmar as soon as possible.

  Resisting the instinct to reach into his pockets and check his weapons, he walked back up the aisle to row 11. Senator Grigieva had the window seat. Her bodyguard, a bulky man of about thirty, was in the aisle.

  According to the briefing, Grigieva was the likely winner of the next party leadership ballot. Once she became president of Kamau she would have a dozen security staff around her at all times. This might be the Bank’s last chance to get to her.

  ‘Pardon me,’ he said, approaching the bodyguard and reaching into his pocket. ‘May I borrow–’

  Then he pulled out the taser and stabbed it into the man’s neck.

  The bodyguard went rigid in his chair, his jaw clenched, his eyelids strobing. Froth trickled from his mouth onto his shirt. The taser kept clack-clack-clacking until Troy released the trigger. The guard slumped in his chair, trembling and semi-conscious.

  Troy withdrew the MP5 from his jacket and pointed it at Grigieva.

  Someone screamed. Troy ignored them.

  ‘Out of the chair,’ he said.

  The MP5 was a German-made submachine gun. Small, but violent. It carried thirty 9mm rounds in its magazine, and could unleash all of them in two seconds. Enough to shred a human being to hamburger. Troy’s body was flooded with adrenaline, making it hard to aim precisely. But at this range, it hardly mattered.

  Most of the passengers were cowering in their seats, but Troy saw one of them approaching in his peripheral vision. A big guy, with thick arms and a chequered shirt. Trying to sneak up on him.

  ‘One more step, and your future president dies,’ Troy said.

  The passenger paused. He raised his open palms, cautiously.

  ‘Get back up towards the driver’s cabin,’ Troy continued. ‘That goes for everyone else, too. And you–’ He jabbed the gun at Grigieva. ‘–out of the chair. I won’t ask again.’

  The senator stood up, slowly. The other passengers fled towards the front of the carriage.

  ‘Just relax,’ Grigieva said. ’Put the gun down.’

  ‘No,’ Troy said.

  The door to the antechamber rattled. Someone was trying to open it from the other side.

  It would take the Librarian at least a minute to get through. With any luck, the senator would be dead by then, and he would be gone.

  ‘Your orders are to keep me alive.’ Grigieva looked anxious, but her voice remained very slow and calm. Almost presidential. ‘Otherwise, I’d be dead already. So put the gun away, and let’s talk.’

  ‘My orders were surprisingly flexible on that point,’ Troy said. He kept the gun trained on her chest. ‘But I won’t kill you. Not if you do exactly as I say.’