Tempting the Negotiator. Zana Bell
dutifully took photos on Alison’s camera.
“Not with an aim like yours you won’t,” Jake retorted. “I’ve seen you miss entire trees.”
“Only because they moved. Keep talking it up, little brother, doesn’t bother me.”
Sass couldn’t help smiling at the fraternal rivalry. She was reminded of her own brothers when they’d been young and full of cheek—before everything had gone wrong.
“Are you ready, Sass? Good, then we’ll head out to the battlefield, where we get our weapons.”
With a nod, she began following Rob and the rest of her team down the hill. The sun blazed; the overalls were hot and snagged on bushes as she passed. If she was in New York right now she could be dropping into an art gallery, meeting friends for coffee. Oh, who was she kidding? If she wasn’t at work, she’d be at home, prepping for some case or other, dressed in sweats. For kicks she’d do a half hour on the treadmill and catch a late-night movie on TV.
Here she was hot as hell and desperately trying not to think of the sweaty head that had previously inhabited her helmet. But at the same time she felt a strange stirring in her blood.
It’s only a game, she told herself, but a primitive part of her came to life. Ahead she could see her enemy. Top-ping everyone by several inches, his sun-bleached hair glinting in the light, Jake moved light-footed as an Apache. Alison, small and muscular beside him, talked urgently in a low voice, no doubt planning their attack.
Sass looked about her. The bushy hills and valleys stretched dizzyingly to the horizon in front, and behind the sea glinted in the afternoon sun. She wished she could sit and take it all in. Instead what she was going to get, she was pretty sure, was a running battle with Alison, who for some reason had really taken a dislike to her.
“Looking forward to this?” Brad was at her elbow.
“Sort of,” Sass said. “It’s not really my kinda thing.”
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt that much when you get shot—unless it’s on the shin or the ribs,” he added.
“That’s a relief. I’ll stay kneeling, with my elbows tucked in at my sides then.”
Brad grinned, refusing to believe anyone could be that fainthearted, and continued with his advice. “Just shoot at anything that moves. Don’t pause, keep going no matter what.”
“Right.”
“And whatever you do, don’t let Jake get you in his line of fire. He never misses.”
“Gotcha.”
That mildly titillating thrill was replaced with dread. She was a city girl, for chrissakes!
Halfway down the steep hill they came upon a large tent, where both teams were armed, two flags given out and the rules explained. “One fort is in the gully, the other on top of the hill.”
“We’ll take the top of the hill,” Alison declared.
At exactly the same time Jake said, “We’ll take the gully.”
They looked at each other, then she shrugged. “Yeah, okay. We’ll take the gully. We can fight uphill.”
“That’s the spirit,” Rob encouraged.
The teams split up.
“See you in my sights, honey,” Moana called out.
“Always ready to draw your fire,” her husband responded.
Sass wished she had someone she could joke with. Going into battle without a friend in the world, she thought ironically. And a little wistfully.
“Take care, America,” Jake called out. “You may never have been invaded, but there’s always a first.”
“Ain’t seen no threats so far, boy,” she replied in her broadest Southern drawl.
Jake laughed and bounded away down the hillside with the joyousness of the superfit. Alison followed, after eyeballing Sass. The two were honestly looking forward to this.
“Now, Sass, do you want to guard the fort or go capture the flag?” Rob asked.
The devil and the deep blue sea. But not for nothing had one of Sass’s great-great-great-granddaddies been a hero in the Civil War. “I’ll join the invading forces,” she said.
“Thatta girl!” Rob exclaimed. “With those legs, you should be fast.” Quickly, he gave the boys their positions, and was outlining a few tactics when the whistle blew.
“That’s us. Good luck, team.” Rob jumped down a small gully and disappeared into the bush, crouching as he ran. Brad let out a warrior whoop and disappeared on the other side. Somehow Mark and Mike melted into the shadows, and suddenly Sass felt alone, exposed on the sunbaked hillside. She squatted down, feeling also very foolish.
“Dumb game,” she muttered, but nevertheless began making her way down the hillside, dodging from tree to bush in the best Western fashion. The gun was heavy, but also reassuring. Something moved and she shot.
“Not me!” Brad whispered furiously.
“Sorry,” she stage-whispered back. Oh, God, it was beginning to look like a very long afternoon.
The air erupted into stuttering gunfire and there was a frustrated cry.
“Damn, shot already!” Moana said as she emerged from the shadows, hands and gun in the air, making her way back to the tent, where she had to wait three minutes. “Just you wait for tonight, Rob Finlayson. There’ll be no mercy for shooting your beloved wife.”
“Can’t wait.” His disembodied voice floated back.
The leaves around Sass hissed and danced, and she realized someone was shooting at her. She dived, but even as she hit the ground, pain ricocheted up her arm from her elbow, where she’d been hit, and she yelped.
“Yes!” said a woman. Alison. Of course.
The next twenty minutes were hard-fought as paint-balls whizzed in all directions. The enemy seemed to be all around her in the bushes and Sass shot indiscriminately, ducking, weaving and diving across the hillside. The sun blazed down as she sweated under the overalls, her helmet clammier than ever. The visor was claustrophobic and made the world seem vaguely unreal. Her Italian loafers slithered and slipped on the rough ground.
Disorientated, she rounded a small bluff, and instantly everything seemed to grow still. The shots and cries of battle receded and she could even hear a bird in one of the trees. Sighing with relief, she took off the helmet and shook her hair free of the sweaty French roll. The craving for a cigarette, which had begun in the van coming out, was now insistent. She glanced around. There was no one here. Settling her back against a tree, Sass lit up and inhaled deeply as she put the box on the ground beside her. Oh my, but that was good. Sanity seeped back into her bones and she closed her eyes, the sun warm on her lids. Drowsily, she drew on her cigarette. There was nothing—nothing—to equal the joy of a cigarette.
The box beside her bucked and she jumped, staring down in bewilderment. Red paint leaked through the destroyed cardboard cigarette box. With a furious cry, Sass whipped around, to see Jake laughing behind her.
“Thought you’d escape, did you? Told you, smoking isn’t allowed.”
Her peace violated, Sass snatched up her gun and sent a volley of paintballs at her tormentor. There was satisfaction in seeing him dive for the cover of nearby bushes. He gave a small cry, then Sass heard the sickening sound of his body falling, tearing out bushes and breaking branches as he went. Throwing her rifle to one side, she ran to where he had dived. The bushes had screened a small cliff face, not high, but very steep, and Jake lay motionless on a narrow shelf near the bottom. With an exclamation, Sass slithered down, gripping bushes and tufts of grass to slow her descent. How on earth would it look in New York if they discovered she’d managed to eliminate one of their chief protagonists