his arms outstretched to grab her, his b

pivoted on the ball of her foot, letting his momentum carry him past her. He stumbled, catc

spun around, swinging a clums

an open palm. At the same time, her right hand-gripping the tactical pen-shot forward. It wasn't a punch. It wa

jolt to the nerves that regulated his blood press

hooked her leg behind his and twisted. It was a classic shoulder throw, executed with flawless techniqu

out of him. He lay there,

ed heel of her shoe directly on his windpipe. Sh

oked, gurgling sounds. P

reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. Her

eel. "The plan," she said, her voice

ple. He couldn't speak. He frantically slapped the flo

nough for him to suc

... put them on this... give it to the guy in the control room... Ange

It was as crude and unimaginative as she'd ex

mpletely isolated, single-use data bridge device from her pocket. She would never risk plugging a dirty, enemy-provided USB directly

ed 'ISOLDE', and deleted it. Then, she navigated to a hidden, encrypted file on her own phone. She selected the video she had tak

the USB drive. The process t

tossed it onto Ricky's chest

duced a slim, tactical folding knife. The blade

ing the cold, flat side of the

skin. "You are going to give it to the man in the control room, just as you were told. If you try anything else, if you warn

eg as his bladder let go. He nodded f

oo

e away. She walked to a mirror on the wall, checked her re

rf

urine-soaked man on the floor and walked ou