RED UMBRELLA: A TIME TO REAP (PART TWO)
My arrival at the Department of State Defense was a spectacle that left all agog. Contrary to expectations, I strode in with an air of confidence attired in a black suit and grasping the fake head of Rosa Blythe – the notorious fugitive and lawyer sought for the demise of Detective Baldwin and numerous others who she eliminated for the agency’s sake.
“What audacity….,” Laine approached me, unfazed and unrepentant.
Her gaze lingered not on the severed head but on my countenance, where a smile still dwelled defying my ‘wanted’ status.
“Kneel, Martha,” she commanded, the silencer on her gun glinting against my forehead.
The surrounding policemen closed in, their faces set in a grim mask.
“Down on your knees,” they echoed, their voices a cacophony of menace.
The atmosphere was tense, akin to the primal fury that erupts when the lionesses of a pride are vanquished and the male ascends to dominance.
“I will not repeat myself,” Laine warned, her finger tightening on the trigger.
But amidst the palpable tension, a simple gesture stayed the hands of my adversaries.
“Very well,” I acquiesced, releasing the head of Rosa which landed with a sickening thud before the officers. “Inform the government of my change of heart.”
Laine’s response was scathing.
“That’s trash”, she spat to my face. “After the stunts you pulled Stein, consider yourself fortunate if the government dares to glance your way.”
I chuckled, her saliva glistening on my left brow.
“Are you certain of that?” I queried.
“What do you mean?” Laine investigated, securing the handcuffs around my wrists with unnecessary force.
“You’ll soon see,” I smiled, observing her closely as she hastened to complete her task.
“Kinky,” I chuckled, the tension within the room yet I remained unperturbed, aware of the assassin lurking among the policemen.
“Laine,” I deliberately trod upon her foot, “the situation is about to go down……”
She swiftly propelled me into the elevator, intending to retrieve her gun only to discover it missing.
“Floor 30,” I kicked the button, her confusion mounting.
In a flash, she extracted a short knife from her sock brandishing it at me.
“Martha Stein,” she hissed. “Don’t do anything funny.”
Simultaneously, we recognized the policeman’s emblem – the “S” brothers.
The assassin shed his bulletproof vest revealing an arsenal of thirteen knives. “Martha Stein the legendary,” he sneered, “how has age treated you?”
“Never been better,” I riposted, delivering a swift kick that initiated the fray.
I knew him to be the fourth of the brothers, a skilled butcher according to police records.
“Do not fire,” Laine warned as he claimed her gun. “This elevator is enforced with titanium, we will all go down.”
“Should I care?” he snarled.
“That makes two of us” I retorted, utilizing the walls to my advantage. In a calculated move, I immediately intercepted the bullet fired, one meant for the detective.
“Oh no! Martha”, Laine swiftly plunged the dagger into our assailant’s breast. “Get up Martha!” she implored, hastening to my side.
I clutched my abdomen, keenly aware of the gravity of my wound.
“This perilous feat may prove my undoing,” I thought, “yet it may also unveil the softer aspects of Laine’s countenance which I am surprised was concealed beneath a stern exterior.”
“Stay with me Martha!” she entreated as the elevator doors swung open upon the high floor.
“What in the name……”, the assembled detectives recoiled in horror at the ghastly spectacle.
“What just happened?” someone inquired.
“Is this not Martha Stein,” another murmured. “And who is this guy?”
Laine intervened, her voice firm and resolute. “This is Lydia Benson, I suspect she’s a double agent hence the attack.”
“Double agent?”, the detectives exchanged astonished glances, their faces pounded with wonder. “Isn’t that kind of cool?”
As my vision began to fade, Laine’s complete confession hung poignantly in the air.
“We need a medic!” an officer shouted, supporting my fragile form.
“Fear not boss,” another reassured. “All will be well.”
Laine’s voice trembled with emotion. “She saved my life… Lydia must not die.”
“Make way! Make way!”, one officer gently lifted me into his arms, his face etched with concern.
“Boss,” he called. “I got you.”
“Wait…” I thought, my vision blurring. “Can it truly be Carlos?”
Before I could verify, darkness claimed me and another bout of amnesia descended, shrouding my mind in obscurity.
