Page 96 of Over the Edge

Mistake, boys.

She retracted her hands back inside her robes and clutched the assault rifle slung across her torso. By the time she reached their position, all three men were huddled beside the Hummer, talking. Their words carried easily to her.

“I think we beat him here, Will.”

“It’s about damned time I got the drop on him. He ambushes me every blasted time we meet like this.”

Oh, if there’d been any doubt before about that guy being Trevor’s brother, there was none, now. They had the exact same upper crust British accent, the exact same baritone resonance in their voices. Peas in a pod.

She shuffled to within about twenty feet of the men, who were just starting to step aside for her to pass on the road track.

Moving slowly enough not to get shot reflexively, she lifted the Tavor assault weapon underneath her robe and said in a normal speaking voice, “Bang, bang, bang. You’re all dead. Trevor sends his regards.”

“Fuck!” William shouted. He continued shouting, a whole string of expletives, as Trevor stepped out of the rocks about fifty yards away and jogged toward them all, grinning with unholy amusement.

“You’re recruiting local women to do your dirty work for you, now?” William demanded as Trevor joined them.

“Not at all. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to my colleague, and the woman who killed you all. This is Anna.”

All three of the men in front of her were big, muscular, and clearly warriors. And all three were scowling ferociously at her. Didn’t like being bested by a girl, did they?Welcome to the brave new world.

She stripped off the burka, exposing the Tavor. She held the assault weapon casually across her body, clearly familiar with its use.

Grinning at the three incredulous men, she said, “Nice to meet you. Next time, you might want to be a little more cautious of strange women approaching you in this part of the world.”

Will commented wryly, “You’re the first one I’ve seen with a Tavor under her clothes.”

“And I would have been the last one you ever saw,” she said lightly.

“Duly noted,” the blond one with the buzz cut said grimly.

She noted the blonde’s American accent with interest. “And who are you?”

“You can call me Ace.”

“Are you military, Ace?”

“Negative. I’m a civilian.”

“But you used to be military,” she declared. The guy had a marine high-and-tight haircut, the ramrod bearing of a Marine, and she would bet a million bucks there was a Semper Fi tattoo somewhere on his body.

He shrugged, grinning. Gonna play coy, huh? Fine. She still knew the type. Ex-Spec Ops, now raking in big bucks working for some government security contractor.

“How about you?” she asked the last man. “Are you a contractor, too?”

“Not exactly. I’m here as an observer. You can call me John.”

“John Doe?” she responded.

“Exactly.”

“Are you an alphabet soup guy, then?” she followed up, referring to the CIA, FBI, NSA, and their ilk.

“I’m gonna have to ask who you are before I answer that question,” John Doe responded.

She glanced at Trevor, silently indicating that it was up to him how much to reveal about her. He knew his brother and who Will hung out with, whereas she knew nothing about these cautious, suspicious strangers.

Trevor spoke up. “Will’s MI6. A covert operative for the British government. Which probably makes ‘John’--” he made air quotes with his fingers as he said the name, “--CIA. And Ace is, indeed, a security contractor with one of the firms who do work for the United States over here.”

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