Old Ghosts by Janina Franck

Two more men were already waiting for her in the large entry hall, dressed the same as the guards outside, pointing their guns at her.

Saoirse smiled her best cheerful smile, raising her hands in resignation and slowly advancing toward them with carefree steps. “Now, boys, that’s no way to ask a lady to have tea.”

As expected, they barely responded with more than a low growl.

“All I want to do is talk to Garrison. Look, I didn’t even bring a gun.” She gestured to her hips, clad in tight black jeans, wearing an equally tight leather jacket over her olive-green T-shirt.

Her having come unarmed obviously came as a surprise to the guards, because for just a moment, they glanced at one another in an attempt at wordless communication. That rookie mistake was all Saoirse needed. She dashed forward, keeping her body low, and ducked underneath the gun one of them was holding, ramming her head into his ribs. He not only stumbled backward, but he fell, his gun clattering onto the floor. By the time it was in Saoirse’s hands, the other man’s gun was pointed at her again, while hers was aimed at him. However, after a moment’s reflection, she moved it from him to the unarmed man on the floor.

Still smiling, she tilted her head to one side. “I’m sure your boss wouldn’t care if I killed him. But would you? Willing to risk it?” She paused to let her words sink in. Then she repeated her earlier statement. “All I want to do is talk to Garrison. Are you gonna let me go up those stairs, or does he need to die first?”

Her eyes were on his, unblinking and firm. Now it all depended on whether he knew who she was. Though, judging by his glance from her to his partner on the ground, he had a fair idea. Excruciatingly slowly, he lowered both his gun and head.

“There’s a good boy.” Saoirse beamed at him and pranced past him and up the stairs. Except for the guy manning the computers, Garrison wouldn’t have any more security in the building. He didn’t like having too many people around. It made things too confusing, and it lost a significant amount of class.

She had barely made it to the first landing, when she heard the click of a gun’s safety. Dropping her body to the ground immediately, she twisted and fired. The guard’s shot missed her by several meters as her own hitting his arm threw off his aim. Instead of retaliating further, Saoirse sprinted up the last steps of the stairs, and determinedly kicked down the door to what she knew to be Garrison’s office. He wouldn’t change it. Not when it had the perfect view across his grounds and ideal lighting from its positioning.

She was right.

He sat at his desk, facing the door, looking very grave.

“Saoirse,” he said, his tone level. He wore a navy suit today, and a light grey, almost silver tie. His brown hair was brushed and perfectly parted at the side, and his beard neatly trimmed. His hands were clasped together, his elbows stemmed on the table.

“Hello, Luis, old chap,” Saoirse responded. “Mind if we have an uninterrupted chat?”