She threw her bags on the bed and started checking and cleaning her special equipment. Michael was sitting very quiet looking with big eyes, like a child who had managed to sneak a peek to something forbidden. She unwound the silencer from the gun and blew hardly into it, then peeked through its opening. Taking a thin, but strong rod, she poked the opening, till she got some fine black dust in the tissue laid on the bed.
The next few seconds were mesmerizing for Michael, though. In a few moves and clicking sounds she broke down her gun completely. The magazine, the casing and the cylinder, all were lying ordered in front of Yannina and she cleaned them thoroughly with a cloth imbibed in oil.
"How did you learn all these? I mean...did anyone teach you?"
"Nobody teaches you this kind of stuff, you got to open your eyes and steal their craft. You get it, or you remain a doormat, a go-between, a bait....Someone unimportant and ready to be sacrificed whenever it is convenient for Damien."
"Sacrificed???"
"He uses human shields in case of police raids. He grabs the first unfortunate standing next to him and walks behind him, letting him take the bullets. Michael, like I told you, Damien is dangerous. Human life has no value for him...except his own...and Tatiana's. I start to believe that she's the only person he cares about in this whole wide world. Which gives me an idea..."
"What idea, Yannina?"
"I could use her as leverage. I'll make a deal with Damien using her: the name of the fat guy, or Tatiana dies."
"You promised, Yannina!"
"I promised nothing! I only promised to keep you alive and find that fat guy who wants you dead! And I will use any means I see fit in order to do so! Get it?"
She was speaking firmly and harshly, her eyes blazing. She left no room for negotiations. She was laying down the rules and Michael had to acknowledge them with a sigh.
"Look, Michael. We are dealing with a rich racist who paid a maniac to get you killed. It can't get worse than this. Damien is not just a band leader and contract killer. I told you, he is insane. I saw him kill people just for the heck of it. He is putting all his twisted mind and organization in this contract. Like I said, he ordered everyone to lay low after this for one year, and they still get paid. For Damien to get you killed...it's not about the money. In his eyes he becomes the greatest assassin in history, bigger than Carlos the Jackal, bigger than anyone. Nothing will stop him. Nothing, except for a bullet in his head."
Michael reached towards her little by little, until he gripped her hands in his. He seemed to feel the enormity of the danger for the first time. "A maniac...the greatest assassin in history" these were the words that were resonating in the back of his mind. Just like he had built his dream of becoming the greatest entertainer, this man was building his own, sick dream, his own sadistic path. In that moment, Michael understood the nature of what he had to face: a man just as determined to succeed as he was with his career. A chill ran down his spine.
"Yannina, does anyone in the gang know you by your real name? Can they identify you?"
"They can identify my hand."
"But you erased that tattoo!"
"I mean...my style...the way I shoot. Just like everyone has a different accent in speaking, every killer has a unique way of shooting. So far, I didn't shoot anyone. But the moment I have the first confrontation and I shoot the first bullet, Damien will know. He will know Shadow is with you, against him."
"And...and what then?"
"I am marked for murder, too. As simple as that."
He shuddered violently and pulled her into him, holding her tight, savagely tight.
"I shouldn't let you cling to me so, Michael. When I say that I see no future for us, I know what I'm talking about."
"NO! NO! I refuse to let you say that! I refuse to lose you!"
"Hey, relax! I'm not gonna be a sitting duck and let anyone punch daylight through me like that."
She started putting her gun back together and moved to the next. It was a small and elegant lady pistol and Michael reached to touch it.
"Here, hold it. Don't worry, it's not loaded."
"So small...and so deadly."
"Only on close range. If the target is 10 feet or farther from you, all you're gonna do is ruin their best suit."
"What is your most powerful weapon?"
Fear aside, Michael was boiling with curiosity. He hated touching guns and anything that was causing death, but the way Yannina handled them was something different.
"Just remember, Michael. It's not guns that kill...it's people. These being said, allow me to introduce you to my good friend Nick."
Michael raised his eyebrows in wonder. She emptied her suitcase and clicked onto a lock hidden in the fabric. The suitcase revealed a false bottom and inside it lay a menacing looking rifle. Yannina lifted it carefully and presented it to Michael with an evil little smirk.
"This is my friend Nick. A 100% original AK-47 Kalashnikov, still voted best weapon in the world by the military, the mercenaries, crazed dictators, drug lords and psycho killers."
"This is because of the human brain in the jar, isn't it? You're taking it back on me" said Michael taking a step back from the rifle.
"No, you wanted to see it, I'm showing it to you. It's unloaded, so you can touch it. C'mon, it won't bite you."
"How...how deadly is it?"
"It releases 600 bullets per minute, that's 10 bullets per second. Initial bullet exit speed around 0.5 miles per second. Precision range of around 1,000 feet in automatic mode, 1,200 in semi-automatic mode...Water resistant...you can bury it in sand and get it back one month later and it's still as good as new...Maintenance is cheap and simple...Really, it's the opportunity of a lifetime, you should get at least 10!"
She went into mock salesperson mode, and Michael couldn't help laughing. He touched the corrugated surface with his fingers and pulled back his hand.
"Alright, maybe Nick is too much to handle for you."
She put the weapon back and locked the false bottom in place.
"Did you use it?"
"Yes. If you're in an ambush situation, you want to have Nick with you, trust me."
She put back all her weapons and stretched, curling her toes and lifting up her arms. Michael took her by surprise, wrapping his arms tightly around her and crashing her down on the bed.
"What the...Are you crazy?" she squealed.
"Normally, no, but I find that you make it impossible for me to act normally."
He framed her body with his arms and legs, keeping her pinned down underneath him.
"I still try to understand what it is about you that makes me so...so incapable to stay away from you."
"You are a good momma's boy, who always did good deeds and spread Jehovah's word from door to door...and I'm a bad girl who lives beyond the law. You are curious...you are intrigued..."
"Yeah...I am curious and intrigued how long you gonna talk nonsense before you let me kiss you, girl."
He dipped his face down, kissing her deeply and totally, taking her by surprise and melting down her fiery resistance. She was like a new found drug to him, her constant play at hard-to-get was taunting him, making him want to conquer her. She didn't offer anything easily, but when she acknowledged his victory over her, she did it fully, passionately.
Michael conquered her once again and she found the bliss of defeat in his arms. For half an hour the violence was forgotten again. For these moments of pure ecstasy and love, she forgot the cold touch of steel gripped in her hand. She acknowledged the warm touch of his sweaty skin, the fire and passion in his eyes.
Luck let Michael and Yannina spend the rest of the three weeks in Japan in peace and quiet. Luck...or a change of plans in the killer's mind...
