Private Games

Chapter 60

PETRA FOUGHT NOT to hyperventilate as she closed the door to the middle stall in the ladies’ loo just west of the high north entry to the arena. She took a deep breath and felt like screaming with the sense of power surging through her, a power that she’d long forgotten.

See? I am a superior being. I have slain monsters. I have meted vengeance. I am a Fury. And monsters don’t catch Furies. Read the myths!

Shaking with adrenalin, Petra ripped off her platinum-blonde wig, revealing her ginger hair pinned against her scalp. She dug the plastic barrettes out and let her short locks fall free.

Petra reached up and grabbed hold of the outer metal edges of the seat-cover dispenser. She tugged and the entire unit came free of the wall. She set it on the seat, then reached deep into the dark cavity she’d exposed and came up with a knapsack made of dark blue rubber, a dry bag that contained a change of clothes.

She set the bag on top of the dispenser, stripped off her volunteer’s uniform, and hung it on a peg on the stall door. Then she peeled off the rubber prostheses that she’d glued to her hips, belly and legs to make herself look chubby. She looked at the dry bag, thinking how much more heavy and cumbersome it would be, given their anticipated escape route, and then dropped the rubber prostheses inside the hollow wall along with the wig.

Four minutes later, the seat-cover dispenser back in place and her uniform concealed in the dry bag, Petra left the loo stall.

She washed her hands and took stock of her outfit: low blue canvas sneakers, snug white jeans, a sleeveless white cotton sweater, a simple gold necklace, and a blue linen blazer. She added a pair of designer spectacles with clear lenses and smiled. She could have been any old posh now.

The stall to Petra’s immediate right opened.

‘Ready?’ Petra asked without looking.

‘Waiting on you, sister,’ Teagan said, coming to the mirror beside Petra. Her dark wig had gone, revealing her sandy hair. She was dressed in casual attire and carried a similar knapsack-style dry bag. ‘Success?’

‘Two,’ Petra said.

Teagan tilted her head in reappraisal. ‘They’ll write myths about you.’

‘Yes, they will,’ said Petra, grinning, and together the two Furies headed for the lavatory door.

Over loudspeakers out in the hall, they heard the arena announcer say, ‘Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen, take your seats. The medal ceremonies are about to begin.’