Chapter 10: Killer Clover and That Girl
"Update?" Joey asked, popping his head out into the office.
"Everything's set," Carla said. "How's your new girlfriend?"
"Quite smitten, and not too inquisitive now that I gave her a second dose."
"I can't fault her taste," Carla said, wryly. "Is she gonna be up for desk duty?"
"Definitely under the desk. Behind the desk is a strong maybe."
"Well then, better go investigate her behind. Just make it out here before the open sauna starts — with her if you think she can hack it."
"You sure you don't need me out here, now? I've got a feeling something is about to go wrong."
"I'll be fine, Joey. Besides, I can't have you out here with that chub — you'll scare off the clients. Now go fuck the bimbo; that's an order."
"Yes, Ma'am," Joey said, with a playful salute.
Almost as soon as Joey went back to the rear office, a skinny, petite blond in sunglasses marched in through the door.
"Hello, welcome to Inner Fullness Massage," Carla said in an aggressively cheerful tone, glancing at the clock. She knew the mission down to the last detail; this wasn't one of the targets, and at 1:09, she was still too early for the sauna. She instinctively reached out, checking her bag was beside her.
"Where is Laney?" barked the woman, wearing a look Carla would describe as sour, verging on furious. She was wearing designer jeans that looked painted on, chunky platforms, and a pricey-looking white blouse with a lace collar and flared sleeves, with a tiny clutch purse clasped in her hands. She should be no problem for the experienced picker like Carla.
"Oh, she had something come up, but she'll be back. Would you like to-?"
"Where did she go?" the woman interrupted.
Carla gave her an apologetic smile and walked around the desk, slinging the bag over her shoulder. Whoever this woman was, Carla knew immediately that she didn't want her anywhere near Laney. "We can go check the change rooms, but I don't think she's still-"
"I got it, thanks," said the woman with a tight little smile, pushing past her.
Glancing towards the massage room, Carla briefly contemplated grabbing Joey for backup. His instincts had been right; there was something worrying about the look in her eye, and the way she clutched the purse. Still, it was just one little blond, right? And she had that rich, pampered sorority girl look that made Carla sure she wouldn't be much trouble. The picker locked the front door, smiling to herself. Hunting time.
In addition to being rude, the woman was being much too loud. As soon as Carla stepped into the courtyard garden, she could hear the blond, shouting inside the changing room, "Laney! I know you're in here, you bitch!"
The retreat was isolated, but with open sauna about to start, the blond could bring a lot of unwanted attention. That didn't leave Carla much time to get her quieted down, wrapped out, and stashed somewhere out of the way. She unlocked the men's locker room and unpacked her catcher's loop. It was a short handle with a tough loop of a sticky, synthetic rubber, which the agent could precisely tighten or loosen with a lever, and lock with a twist, but the target couldn't reach. It also contained a pair of metal shock prods that sat against the neck, and could be operated from the handle, although it usually wasn't necessary.
The combination of the sticky texture and a mildly abrasive surface prevented the target from turning in the collar, and encouraged the target to stay still and obey instructions. Catch someone from behind, and it was nearly impossible for them to escape or even turn and face you, and very unpleasant to struggle.
Carla waited just inside the men's room, with the door cracked so she could watch the exit of the women's room.
Presently, the blond stormed out, reaching into her purse. "Wherever you are, I'm going to find you, bitch, and I'm going to-"
Carla pounced, her heart pounding as she swung the loop around the blonde's neck, tightening and yanking the woman backwards violently into the men's room. "She's right in here, sweetie," she said, as the blond staggered backwards. The woman dropped her purse, but not what she'd grabbed from it. Light glinted off a hand gun, waving wildly in the air, as her other hand grabbed at the strap.
Carla had been trained for this scenario. The idea was to pull the loop tight, and twist the end, locking it so it wouldn't come loose if the button were pushed in the struggle. Then she'd pull the target back and down, crouching and moving backwards continuously until the target started to lose consciousness, at which point she would use her body facing to cushion the woman's descent. This would, in theory, allow Clara to control her descent (and prevent injury) while keeping her facing away and preventing the woman from shooting her.
The trainers insisted that with enough pressure on the neck, the target wouldn't have the strength or alertness to use the gun effectively to shoot behind her — especially if she kept the woman moving backwards the whole time. Then she could retrieve the weapon when the woman passed out, mere seconds later, and quickly loosen the loop and assert control before the target recovered.
The purpose was to prevent injury to the target while maintaining reasonable safety for the field agent, but there was a difference between knowing what to do in theory, and being confronted on a mission by a clover waving a gun around, with minutes before open sauna started.
What she actually did was precisely what she was supposed to avoid: she pulled the blond backwards through the door and onto the ground. The target fell hard, her shoulder taking some impact, the rest leaving what was probably going to be a nasty bump on the side of her head.
The clover gagged, grabbing at the loop with one hand, the other raising the gun. Carla woman dived behind the wall, hiding in the shower room just as the blond fired a shot. Two seconds later, the gun clattered to the ground. It was over.
Carla put the gun in her purse and turned the blond on her front, loosening the strap slight. She was relieved to hear the woman gasping for breath, and see the dark red color rapidly clearing from her face. With how quick and brutal the takedown was, Carla had worried... well, she was just glad to know she hadn't killed the woman. Not that what she had in mind was all that much better.
"Bad idea, bitch," Carla said, handcuffing the woman's hands behind her back.
"Off...," she wheezed. "Get...."
"Catch your breath first."
"Get the fuck off me!" the woman growled out. "Get the fu-"
Carla pressed a knee into the woman's back, tightening the loop.
"You should have listened. I need you alive for now, because I need some information. What happens to you after I get that information depends on you, got it?"
The woman gagged, her face red.
"Oh, right, my bad," Carla said, loosening the strap. "Got it?"
The woman barely managed a nod, coughing, then rested her cheek on the ground in defeat.
"Good. Now, quickly: Who are you, and why are you here?"
"I'm sorry," she said, hoarsely. "I didn't mean-"
"Your name," Carla said, coldly.
"Elsie. Keep the gun. I'll tell you what you want and go quietly."
"Oh sweetie," Carla said, pulling her up by the loop and her collar, "it is way too later for that."
* * *
Carla glanced at her watch and straightened her clothes as she rushed back to reception. Elsie had gone from defiance to sobbing, and it had quickly become clear that the interrogation would have to wait. With the way Carla had restrained her, she was pretty sure Elsie would be in a more communicative mood when Carla saw her next.
She mentally noted she'd been right to rush; before she could even sit at the desk, there was a loud knock at the front door. Seeing who it was, she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Took you long enough," she said, unlocking the door for the tall, scraggly goateed man in the leather jacket. "Tell me you brought some real help, and not just-"
Jan smiled an oily smile. "Just a trainee, but I've found her quite helpful."
The woman who came up behind him had changed so much, Carla barely recognized her. Gone was the eyeshadow, choker, and ripped jeans she'd had when they'd taken her during the Floor 12 operation. Now, she was dressed in a little pink blouse and skirt, accented with a thick white belt, covered with multi-colored plastic gems in the shape of stars.
Her cheeks were pink and freckled, done with permanent makeup, and her eyebrows had been removed and replaced with wide, tattooed ones, which combined with some minor cosmetic surgery to give her a permanently surprised look.
