Tomb of Odin

Chapter 12

Special Agent Patrick Smith was in a fix. Three people were dead and here he was locked in a standoff with a beautiful assassin who was in no way coy when it came to killing. In fact, she proved to be quite generous when it came to bestowing bullets on any target with lungs.

“Pass it over slowly. I can see it dangling in your inner pocket, so don’t try to fool me,” she told Paddy. “And hurry up. I have an appointment.”

Begging to ask who she had the appointment with, Paddy had to still his urges and remain completely calm for the sake of the remaining pilot and flight attendant who were still alive.

“The least you can do is tell me how you knew about it,” he said nonchalantly, as he reached into his pocket. “I won’t ask who you are or who you work for… any of that, all right?” He pulled out the flask so that she could see that he was not procrastinating.

“Tell me something, Special Agent Smith,” she rasped confidently, “what is it you and your employer deals in?”

“Intelligence, among other things” he replied quickly. Paddy did not want her to think he was playing games. His training taught him to keep an even movement in such situations, to keep showing the assailant what they want without actually handing it over and to answer firmly and accurately when questioned.

“Intelligence,” Maggie expressed the answer like a teacher congratulating a student. Then she dropped her sarcasm and continued, “So do we, only we deal in a different edition of the word. We are interested in intellect and the delegation thereof. But I digress. Do you really think that intelligence and covert operations are only reserved for the officially appointed nationals?” she asked, holding out her hand.

Paddy hesitated, thinking of a way he could divert her attention without getting one of her .44s as reward. “So MI6 has one of your moles,” he answered.

“No, my darling, our moles were operating right under your nose, in Bhutan,” she revealed, and motioned with her head that he should give her the item.

“The hospital,” he said softly. “And there just happens to be a flight attendant available to kill us all at such short notice? My, my, you are efficient.”

“Don’t patronize me, Smith. I could just plant you right here and take the gadget from you, so consider my generosity and give me the fucking generator!” she bellowed. “It’s simple to get a job like this. The other attendant called in sick. She had a case of death this morning and I happened to be available.”

Maggie’s body suddenly bent backward, as Liz whacked her in the small of her back with the serving cart. Paddy spared no time and lunged at Maggie before she could find her bearings. He relieved her of her weapon, but she did not need guns to beat him. Maggie wrapped Paddy in an arm bar and held him so that he could not move.

To Maggie, Liz was becoming an annoying little bug by helping the special agent subdue Maggie, as he reversed her lock to try to get out of her grip. Maggie turned to Liz and abruptly snapped her neck.

“There, that problem is solved,” she panted heavily from the exertion of the fight. Her opponent recognized her fighting style, yet he could not effectively counter her moves. Special Agent Smith relied mostly on his strength, mostly on the face shots he got in every now and then, but she was more resilient than he had bargained for. Paddy was trained in some meaner alternatives and it was when she landed a hefty kick to his groin that he decided to cut playtime short for Maggie.

“The Shanghai method is outdated, special agent!” she gasped, going for the flask while Paddy was trying to catch his breath and retain the use of his legs. She picked it up carefully, using her jacket as cover for her hands, just in case some of the fluid seeped out. When she turned, she walked right into a timid effort of a jab from Captain Hayward, still wearing his colleague’s brain matter like blush.

She immobilized him with a palm strike to the nose, but she intended on lodging the cartilage nice and deep under his brow with a few more before she said goodbye with a bullet.

“You won’t get out alive!” Paddy shouted to distract her from making quick work of an innocent civilian.

“Oh please, Paddy,” she said as she picked up her firearm and shoved her foot onto the bleeding pilot’s throat to keep him still for the aim.

“There’s something you did not take into account,” he persisted to keep her attention divided, away from the flight captain.

“What’s that?” she asked as she squeezed the trigger. Before she could pull it back, Paddy blessed her with a chisel fist, landing it squarely where her throat bent into her jaw. Severing her windpipe instantly, he watched as she fell to the ground, kicking like a slaughtered pig at his feet. Maggie’s airway would not allow air in and Paddy watched her asphyxiate in just over a minute before her spasms abated.

Captain Hayward was incapacitated, but alive.

“This is Special Agent Patrick Smith, onboard the Bombardier Challenger, GHVRP, off Runway 4. I need emergency medical assistance and airport security immediately!” he roared over the speaker to the air traffic controller.

Paddy had a bit of time before help would arrive at the aircraft and he sat down on the floor next to the wheezing pilot.

“Well done, Captain Hayward. You are a hero, my friend,” Paddy said, tucking the item safely away again.

“Ta,” Captain Hayward forced.

Paddy knew that he could not tell anyone about the generator. It was his duty to keep it secret. Now he had to hope it was not combustible in the next 96 hours because it had just become his property.