This is my entry in the Crime and Punishment 2024 event. Many thanks to
TheNyxianLily
for editing and critiquing this story, and providing encouragement.
The story is an homage to '60s secret agent films of the completely unrealistic kind. It features a lot of killing and violence, so if that's not your thing, you might be happier with one of my previous submissions.
If you want to get fully into the mood, I suggest you put a Shirley Bassey song on after the first scene, and look at silhouettes of naked women while it plays.
The bitingly cold air whipped past Jacqui as she fell. And fell. And fell.
Below, on the snow-covered ground of northern Japan, she made out the shape of the Gihei compound, though she had to keep wiping snow from her goggles. The bare stone walls and tiled roofs rushed up, the lights spilling their lambent glare on the frozen ground. The lonely trees around it grew too, from pin-pricks to blobs, to large shrubby obstacles. Jacqui pulled the rip-cord on her parachute, and felt the jolt as air filled it, before gliding silently to the ground inside the compound walls.
She gathered up the white parachute and hid it behind a rock. There were a handful of guards walking the walls, but they were watching outside. From the looks of it, they were more worried about the cold, breathing onto their hands. Jacqui, in her white cat-suit and with long blonde hair, was difficult to see against the snow. She slipped to a door in the compound and waited before it with her Beretta out, feeling the chill seep through her clothes and into her muscles, and then her bones.
Eventually the door opened, and Jacqui pointed the pistol at the besuited man who had opened it. In her upper class English accent, she said, "Satoru, you took your time." She lowered the gun. "Let's get moving."
He moved aside to make way for her. "I'm sorry. The building's hard to move through tonight. They've moved up the schedule. Gihei's going to fire the missiles tonight."
Jacqui was already moving through the concrete corridors, gun at the ready, welcoming the warmth of the building. "Then we have no time to lose." Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of a Walther PPK being cocked. She was glad to have Satoru at her back again. Rounding a corner, they found themselves face-to-face with four guards in yellow jump-suits, Madsen M-50 submachine guns carried across their chests. Jacqui and Satoru were expecting to meet opposition, whereas it was a regular patrol for the guards. The pistols spat death twice each, and the guards collapsed to the floor without firing a shot in return.
Satoru said, "Both head shots, Irons? You never change."
Jacqui stepped over the bodies with barely a glance. "A shot to the forehead is instant."
She stopped at the top of a balcony, looking out over a vast command centre. There were banks of top-of-the-range computers, their large tape reels whirring back and forth, lights blinking. Between the computers walked technicians and scientists, like ants attending to their nest. At the far end, talking to his aides, was Gihei, immaculate in a mustard suit.
Satoru came up behind her and handed a pair of grenades to Jacqui. "I'll see you at the escape boat."
She turned and smiled at him. "Yes. Then we can both get back to England and some sun."
With that, they both removed a pin from a grenade, and sent them spiralling into the room below. There was a wait for a couple of seconds, and then they exploded. Pandemonium followed. Klaxons whined, and workers scurried for cover. Gihei picked up a rifle and started firing at the pair, while more yellow-clad guards rushed into the room. Jacqui and Satoru fired again and again. Guards fell below them, and they threw their remaining grenades, destroying more guards and computers. There was no way the missiles could be launched now. The guards fell back, realising they were beaten, but Gihei kept firing, the bullets burying deep into the concrete around Jacqui. When her last clip was emptied, Jacqui leaped down from the balcony, landing lightly on her feet before rushing Gihei while he reloaded. She knocked the gun from his hand with her fist, then kicked his knee, buckling it and sending him to his knees.
"I surrender!" he shouted, his hands high.
Jacqui picked up his rifle and finished loading the round into it, then pointed it at Gihei's head. "Would you have let the innocent people in the cities your missiles targeted surrender?"
His jaw moved up and down, as though searching for an answer, but no words came out. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Jacqui squeezed the trigger gently, and Gihei lay still.
"Irons," Satoru's voice came from behind her. "I've caught her! I've caught Honoka."
Turning, Jacqui saw he was dragging a woman beside him. Honoka was breathtakingly beautiful, and Jacqui's memory raced back to long nights of enjoying her body.
"You can let her go, Satoru. She wasn't with Gihei through choice. We should take her to the escape boat."
Satoru's knuckles whitened on Honoka's arm. "No, she was Gihei's second. We must kill her!"
Honoka stared in horror at Satoru, then turned tear-streaked eyes to Jacqui. "Please, Jacqui. You know that Gihei held me here against my will. You can't let this man kill me."
Jacqui raised the rifle, pointing it first at Honoka, then Satoru, then back and forth.
"Irons," said Satoru, "we've worked together since your first mission. I've earned your trust."
Honoka said, "You promised you'd protect me. You've saved me from Gihei, but just to be killed now?"
Jacqui pointed her gun at Satoru. "Let her go. Put your gun down."
Satoru said, "Please, don't do this. You're making a mistake."
Jacqui kept the gun on him. "Don't make me force you."
With a curse, Satoru released the girl and dropped the gun.
Honoka rushed to stand behind Jacqui. "Thank you so much. I knew I could trust you."
Jacqui looked at Satoru down the barrel of the rifle. "If I let you go, will you leave Honoka alone?"
She never got her answer, because a dagger appeared in his chest, a bloom of red spreading beneath it. Jacqui spun and rolled, a second knife, held in Honoka's hand, slashing the air where her head had just been.
She came up into a kneeling position, her rifle levelled. But Honoka dashed between the wrecked computer consoles, and out through a door. Jacqui raced to Satoru, but she could see that there was nothing that could save him. She held him in her arms, his blood hot on her hands.
"I'm so sorry, Satoru. I should have trusted you."
Her tears mixed in the blood on his shirt and tie.
Satoru coughed but smiled. "Same old Jacqui Irons. Always thinking with her..." He spasmed and went limp.
Jacqui stared in the direction Honoka had run.
🍸
The twin thrums of hope and despair pulsed through the glitzy casino. The rich and faux-rich rubbed shoulders, elegant and expensive clothes often covering the low-lives who wore them. With a smile, Jacqui watched the croupier push a pile of chips towards her growing pile; black had come up on the roulette wheel again. But her attention was elsewhere; she had a mission tonight, and she glanced again at the door leading to the back rooms.
"Aren't you going to bet again?" asked the pretty young brunette at her side.
"You place it," said Jacqui, handing her a stack of chips. She took her eyes off the door for long enough to watch the girl bend over the table, her slinky dress stretching over a wonderfully proportioned bum. Jacqui's hand reached towards it, but pulled back. Tonight wasn't a night for fun. At least not with this girl.
The croupier set the ball and wheel spinning, then declared, "No more bets." As the others around the table watched anxiously, Jacqui sighed in relief. Leaving through the door was one of the men she'd watch pass through it an hour earlier. Based on his angry demeanour and how little time he'd spent there, luck hadn't been with him tonight.
The brunette -- what was her name? -- grabbed her hand, bringing Jacqui's attention back to the game. "We lost," the girl said.
The croupier raked in the chips, the ball glittering on seven, where it had landed. "Must be someone else's lucky number." She placed most of her remaining chips into her handbag, but passed a couple as a tip to the croupier, and pressed a larger stack into the brunette's hand as leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Cheap, flowery perfume filled her nostrils. "I have to go. Why don't you play on without me?"
The girl's smile dropped. "You're going? I thought you and I would --"
"Another time. I have business to attend to."
She left the table, nodding to the other players, and made her way towards the man who'd entered through the door. Though sober, she walked unsteadily, as though drunk. As the man passed, she stumbled into him, smelling the heavy aftershave as her face planted into his Savoy Row suit.
"I'm so sorry," she said, as she looked up at him.
The man grinned down at her. "That's alright. Maybe my luck is turning. Would you like to join me for a drink?"
Jacqui pushed away from him. "No, thank you. I need to go powder my nose."
The man's face fell; it seemed luck wouldn't smile on him that night at all.
As she walked away, Jacqui felt the security card she'd taken from his pocket. She walked to the door, and after a surreptitious look around, pressed the card to the reader, and the door swung slightly ajar. A satisfied smile on her face, she pushed through into the empty lift beyond, and pressed the button marked 'penthouse'. While it rose, Jacqui checked her appearance in the mirrored wall. She ran fingers through her long blonde hair, draped over one shoulder. Her white dress was flawless, hugging her generous curves and showing a little of cleavage while leaving more to the imagination. Maybe not quite so flawless; she removed a bit of fluff that the man's suit had left on her opera gloves. A some lipstick from her handbag touched up her appearance. Satisfied, she stood back, pursing her lips then admiring how long her legs looked in her high heels.
A ding announced the lift's arrival, and Jacqui entered a lobby, then passed through a door. Inside was a smoke-filled room, with a group of well-dressed men and one woman sat around a poker table. Jacqui quickly sized up the woman, sat on the opposite side of the table from her; it was undoubtedly Professor Lotta Cranz, but the black-and-white file photo hadn't done the woman justice. Her blonde hair was in an up-do, and her red dress did little to hide the voluptuous body beneath it.
