Mitchell's Revenge
Last dance, auditorium, Tiberion

Snatch finally managed to unjam thesprinkler system and turn the water off. An uneasy calm descended on theauditorium. The Ostrakovs reached their son and pulled him away from the scenein the middle of the floor. They did not want to see what would happen next. Theyran to the exit and joined the other dancers outside on the concourse.

Natasha could hear her mother’ssobs fading as she sat in her seat next to Yuri. She ignored them and stayedcompletely focussed on the mercenary in front of her. They circled each other. Theywere soaked. The floor was slippery. The bright lights of the arena had givenway to low level emergency lighting.

Sergey knew he was about to fightfor his life. He studied Natasha. She had no weapon. He still held the longbladed knife. The grip was slippery with Yuri’s blood in his hand. Natashachannelled all her anger into her focus on the mercenary. Suddenly she sprangat his knife hand and kicked the weapon away. It slid across the floor andthumped into the audio equipment near the stage.

Music began to play. It was tango.

“How appropriate,” Natasha sneered.“Assassination tango.”

“So you think,” Sergey replied. Herubbed at his wrist where she had kicked him.

Natasha took her chance. She movedfast. Sergey suddenly found himself face down on the

floor with Natasha on his back. Shehad her left knee pressed into the nerves in his shoulder that controlled hisleft arm. The arm lay useless at his side. She had hold of his right wrist in herother hand. She viciously twisted his arm up his back. He struggled to shakeher weight off. She grabbed the hair on the back of his head with her free handand pulled his head backwards towards her.

He kicked and tried to roll over. Shepounded his face into the floor. He felt teeth dislodge. Blood ran from thecorner of his mouth. She held his face down.

“You don’t murder a member of myfamily and expect to get away with it, you miserable animal,” she mutteredthrough clenched teeth.

Then she saw movement from thecorner of her eye. Daria had rallied herself and run down the stairs, andacross the floor. She gathered the knife from where it lay next to the audiogear. Natasha watched her walk purposefully towards them. Daria tested theweight of the knife in her hand. She reached her daughter kneeling on the backof the mercenary.

“Lift his head!” she commanded. Natashadid so.

Daria drew the knife swiftly acrossSergey’s throat. Blood pumped onto the dance floor. His legs thrashed brieflyand then his body went limp. Natasha stood up and faced her mother. The dead mercenarylay between them.

“You will make them all pay,” Dariasaid quietly.

Natasha stared back at her.

“You can be sure of that,” shereplied.