Three. Four. There were more than he’d seen the first time. He disabled them, leaving them unconscious and unable to hold a weapon. One, who was sighting on his daughter’s room, he killed accidentally.
Anger. He took a few deep breaths.
::One more sweep on this side, and I think we’ll be clear. How’re you?:: Mystral’s mental voice settled him, called him.
::Almost done. I’ve got their lead… damn.::
He’d thought cyanide pills had gone out with the cold war.
He knocked the last one of his out, and grabbed the… ninja… before he could kill himself. ::This is not the evening I had planned, Myst. Do you want to help with the interrogation?:: He shook the … ninja.. and jammed his handkerchief between the man’s teeth. “Tempero tlacatl…” ::Watch out. They’re old-school::
He ducked as one that he’d missed tried to bean him with a crowbar. “Someone is going to die tonight!”
This was not what he’d had planned for this evening.
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