The Bloody Hand of Mercy

A Ninja Murder Mystery

By Mongoose750 (mongoose750@yahoo.com)

Daughter of Department Store Magnate Latest Victim of "Hack n' Slasher'

By Stuart Whitman

Doris Fisher, 23, became the latest victim of the serial killer known as the "Hack n' Slasher," who has been terrorizing the metro area.

Fisher was the slashers' tenth victim.

Doris Fisher was the daughter of Barry Fisher, CEO of the Mighty Mart department store chain.

The body was found behind a nightclub with slashes on the throat, neck, and abdomen.

"The victim was cut, and left to bleed to death," Harrison Mulder, Police Captain said.

Barry Fisher, nor his wife Angela was available for comment . . .

At the Convention Center, another one of the many sporting events was held. This time it was the Area Sumo Wrestling Tournament. The men had already been through their paces, and now it was the women's turn. The women, clad in leotards and sumo belts, made their procession to the ring. Separated by weight classes, the contestants were literally all colors, shapes and sizes.

Sitting above it all near the back were the skyboxes, a combination spectator's seat and luxury suite. While the average fan sat in a cramped seat, hemmed in with the rest of the crowd like a sardine, along with dealing with overpriced fast food, the skybox offered a luxurious room with a special menu, or a special buffet. And watching the sporting event was almost the same as watching it at home. Yes, skyboxes were a great place to be, if one had the money to rent one. On this night, only two people occupied one of the boxes.

"Mr. Fisher, I'm an assassin, not a detective," the woman said. She was a large, muscular oriental woman who stood about 5'8". She was dressed in a sleeveless white dress that was cut midway along the legs to show off her powerful calves. The top of the dress had a modest scoop neck. The shoes, white slides, were lying in a corner, discarded long ago, while the owner glided about in white silk stockings across the shag carpeted floor. She held a glass of tonic water in one hand while she gestured with the other. "If you wanted a rival or threat to you or your livelihood eliminated, then I'm your woman. A case like this would be best handled in the hands of the authorities. I regret your loss, I truly do, but I don't think I can help you."

The man, tall and rugged in his mid-fifties, looked distinguished as he stood by the window that was about to have the lightweight women battle first. The "salt" in his salt-and-pepper colored hair seemed to sparkle in the overhead lights. "I chose your services because I didn't want the slime ball to make it to court. And I'm surprised someone like you, considering your profession, would turn this down," he said.

The woman gave a small smirk. "Mr. Fisher, contrary to what you may have heard or seen on primetime television, even we assassins have certain rules, convictions, an honor code or morals, take your pick. We choose these so most of us can live with ourselves, and to prolong our life span as well. Speaking for myself, I do not kill children, nor wipe out whole families. I do not kill innocent bystanders nor do I attack the innocent. I also do not go on assignments that are out of my depth, like assassinating the American president for instance. It would be much easier to slice my own throat with my katana, because I would be signing my death warrant. Tracking down your daughter's killer I believe extends beyond my expertise."

Barry Fisher watched the first two matches take place while he pondered over her response. "I can see why this sport is popular in Japan," he finally said. "There's quite a bit of strategy and skill to it, along with the power."

"Yes, quite a bit of power," she echoed.

"Kiko, which I'm sure isn't your real name, but it doesn't matter, do you have any children if you don't mind my asking?"

"No."

"Okay, that may be a liability for you in your career, I'm sure. Do you have someone who you care deeply about? A husband or significant other?"

"Yes," the woman who called herself Kiko said hesitantly.

"Let's just reverse things a bit. If someone killed that person who meant a lot to you, you'd move heaven and earth to get that scum and make him pay, wouldn't you?"

"Yes I would, Mr. Fisher, but-"

He held up a finger, stopping her. "Let me finish please. My wife and I raised four children. We hid the fact we were stinking rich for a reason. Each one of those four grew up to be responsible, intelligent human beings. Each one except for Doris, our youngest, married the love of their lives. Doris put those plans on hold. Why? Because she was going to go with a service group to help provide fresh water for those in the third world who don't have any, along with building shelters. All that potential, now gone forever.

"The authorities you speak of in this town I know quite well. They like to strut in front of the camera and show themselves like peacocks whenever something like this happens. Meanwhile, nothing gets done. The Commissioner is more concerned with being reelected than doing his job. They also haven't bothered to get to know the victim, because if they did, they would know my daughter wasn't anywhere near that nightclub when she was killed."

Kiko didn't respond. What was there to say?

"Every other night, Doris worked at one of the mission centers. She worked late. She has or had no need to waste time partying with others to bump and grind to noise. I pointed this out to the police, and all they could say was maybe she took the night off. The workers at the food kitchen speak differently.

"I used favors and almost made a deal with the devil himself for this meeting. I loved my daughter deeply, Kiko, and getting the killer would not only avenge my family, it would also avenge the ten families this monster had robbed."

Kiko remained silent as she stared out the window.

"You'll have access to any resources you need. I can have a car or a plane at your beck and call at any time. I am not too proud to beg, Kiko, please."

Kiko turned from the window. "Mr. Fisher, I'll need a cell phone with a number only you and I know. As a matter of fact, get one for yourself, too. You are to keep this phone with you at all times. I will notify you of my progress when it's appropriate, and request what I need. Do not call me unless the killer himself is on your heels. I'll send you a text message of my terms of payment as soon as you deliver the phone to my post office box. I also want everything, no matter how trivial regarding your daughter and her habits. That is all for now. Go be with your family, Mr. Fisher," she said.

In the light, something shiny appeared on the man's face. It was a tear. He offered his hand to Kiko.

"Thank you, Kiko. Thank you very much," he said.

"I'll do my best, and my name is Katsumi."

Ten minutes later, after Barry Fisher had left, a 5'6" black man entered the skybox. Alex Franklin had short black hair and a medium build. He made a beeline to the buffet table and started filling his plate.

"How did the deal go?" He asked while pouring some cheese sauce over his broccoli.

"I accepted the contract," Katsumi said solemnly.

"Not that I expect you to be overjoyed, but you clearly don't sound happy about it."

"No, this is different."

"Well I understand you don't discuss your contracts, so I won't ask the details. Why so sad?"

Katsumi was watching the last of the women's lightweight matches when she turned and said, "Again, this is different."

She explained the assignment to Alex, who nodded and understood.

"I can't say I blame the man, but with all due respect, you're an assassin, not a detective. Why hire you?" He asked.

"He doesn't want the killer to make it to trial. It's revenge for his daughter and the families of the other ten victims. But that wasn't the reason I accepted."

"Oh?"

"He asked if it was me, how would I react if this same killer took someone from me . . . and all I could think of was what if something happened to you."

Before he could respond, Katsumi quietly walked to him, and gently took his plate of food and placed it on a nearby table. She smoothed his shirt and straightened his tie before looking into his eyes.

"After I complete this assignment, you and I have much to discuss, my love. For now, just hold me," she said.

As they embraced, he joked, "Then can I eat?"

"I have appetites too."

"Yes, but those appetites you're talking about, I need fuel to keep me going."

Katsumi released him and playfully nudged him. "Okay, you did have to stand around in the hallway for twenty minutes or so."

Alex sat at a table by the window as a match between the middleweights began. "So how are you going to do this, where do you start?"

Sitting beside him, Katsumi replied, "Detectives use research, a lot of it. I need to find information on his habits, his victims, even his weapons of choice. I guess I'll be spending time in front of the computer. Now that I think of it, I need a small favor from you too."

"What's that?" Alex popped in a meatball.

"I need you to look up everything you can find on the island of Tonga."

"Tonga? What does that have to do with this?"

"I'll tell you later. Meanwhile, let's watch the tournament."

After the middleweight ladies had their bouts, it was the heavyweights' turn. The wrestlers participating were rather fearsome. Alex turned to Katsumi.

"So you almost became a sumo wrestler, one of these ladies?" Alex reflected.

"Yes, but I figured being a ninja would be easier," Katsumi replied. "Look at these women! I don't want to mess with them, they'll kill you!"

The next morning, Katsumi lay on her mat, kicking her feet up as she poured over her documents. She had already worked out, showered, and had her breakfast with Alex; now as she lay in her blue and gold silk robe, she studied everything she had on Doris Fisher. Barry Fisher was very prompt with the material she needed as everything, cell phone included, waited for her at the post office.

From what she had read so far, Doris Fisher appeared to be the perfect daughter, every parent's dream. She was an excellent student, a model citizen, and a virtual saint. From her pictures, Doris may not have been the homecoming queen, but more of the attractive girl next door who didn't bother with such things, who mothers would want their sons to marry. The outstanding facet that stood out to Katsumi was that Doris Fisher wasn't just someone who was concerned with the plights of those less fortunate, she went a step further and did something about it. Small wonder why her father wanted her killer dead; from what Katsumi had read, the world would indeed be a much sadder place for her loss. She also saw that sadly, Barry Fisher was correct; the police just gave pompous lip service about their efforts on the case, plus they maintained the theory that Doris hung out at a notorious nightclub when she was slain. If this woman had a decadent thought, it died of neglect a long time ago.

Testing a theory, Katsumi got up and padded to her computer. Checking news sites on the serial killer, his victims were dispatched the same way, multiple knife cuts, while the victim laid bound, and all outside a skanky nightclub. Further examination indicated that these victims participated in some type of charity or benevolent organization. And they all were murdered outside of a nightclub, leading the police to think they partied with the wrong man.

Katsumi cursed the stupidity of the city's police force. Why couldn't they see it? They have never been able to track her acts down, but then again, she was a professional; it was her job to eliminate people who she thought deserved it: crooked businessmen, corrupt political rivals, targets who couldn't otherwise be touched. Yet she was not some sick human being who preyed on the innocents of this world, those who try to make it better.

Katsumi stopped herself and took a deep breath. She felt tired, not physically tired, just tired of her profession. She could retire now, and not look back. But first, she had to find this killer and send him to the hell he justly deserved.

She got up, pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt, then a sweater, and left her condominium barefoot to reach her car. Her car was a blue Hummer II, which was "tricked out" with a number of technological goodies dedicated for the hunt. If her other theory was correct, she would only need to visit three of the nightclubs. After that, a call with Barry Fisher would be made, and to fix dinner for her and Alex.

When she arrived at the nightclub where the latest murder took place, she saw the rear area still had yellow police tape surrounding the crime scene. Immediately, Katsumi saw something out of place. If Doris Fisher ever went to a nightclub, it would be likely she would attend one that was more prestigious. Even as generous as she was, she still came from a rich family; meaning she would never be seen at a cesspool like this. From the look of things, even a drunk on the street would not enter this place. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions too soon. Bracing herself, she walked to the front door and went in.

The floor, or whatever was on the floor, stuck to her bare soles, and for the first time in eons, Katsumi considered cleaning her feet the moment she left a place. Since it was day, the crowd was small. A light cloud of cigarette smoke hung like fog. Though it was day, the inside looked like it was set in perpetual night. There was a stage, where a tired dancer dressed in a thong bikini danced, if squirming like a worm on a hot rock was considered dancing. The music, some cheap knockoff of a popular dance tune, blared through the place.

Katsumi had seen enough. She turned and left.

At the next club she visited, she was able to check out the back, which from her observation, revealed no struggle. Feeling compelled, she entered the joint, which was almost similar to the last place, except the dancer wore only a thong panty. To make things even worse, she gave her a lusty grin. Katsumi left quickly.

By the time she reached the third club, she wondered whether she needed to wash her clothes or burn them. A hot shower would be awaiting her, that was for certain. Granted, the police would be thorough, she thought as she checked the crime scene, but maybe something would be left. No luck; no signs of struggle, or even a single bloodstain. But then again, it has been a while since the murder happened. The ground was soft, causing the dirt to stick to her soles, but considering what she had to do next, it would be a blessing.

She entered the nightclub, maneuvering around a few motorcycles to reach the door, and saw the same depressing sight she'd seen at the last two places. The only differences were more people, and two tired topless dancers swinging around two poles. The dirt on her feet kept them from sticking to the floor, but the fog-like smoke moved like a living thing. She started to make her exit, before she was consumed in more noxious fumes.

"Well what have we here?"

Katsumi turned and saw three men; two of them were around her height, while the third was much shorter. They all had long hair, white, and wore leather jackets, white T-shirts, jeans, motorcycle boots and sneakers. From the cocky swagger they had, Katsumi saw that whether in Japan or America, motorcycle gangs were basically the same, save the brand of motorcycle the rode.

"You get lost?" Another one said.

"No," Katsumi responded neutrally.

"Sure she got lost, Hank! Look at those eyes; she's not from these parts. I always thought you Japanese chicks were shorter," the third added.

With people of Asian descent becoming the fastest growing ethnic group in the United States behind Hispanics, most people don't take a second look when they see a person with almond-shaped eyes and yellow skin, or a mix thereof. However, Katsumi remembered that there were some people who couldn't see beyond the color bar, and these were probably three of them.

"So what brings you around here?" The first man spoke. He appeared to be the leader with long stringy blond hair and matching beard. "You're a little out of place here."

"I'm looking for clues. Perhaps you have some answers," Katsumi replied.

"And what do I get?" The third one said, a shorter clone of the leader, except the hair was brown.

You get to live, Katsumi thought. Speaking, she said, "I'm looking for clues regarding the murder of Tammy Scott a few weeks ago."

"You a cop?" The second one, a clone with black hair and beard asked.

"Maybe she's one of those ninjas," the third man quipped.

"As a matter of fact, I am." As the three men looked at her in stunned silence, she remembered what her teachers told her. In some situations where you're asked a lot of questions, just give them the truth. It's surprising how beneficial the results can be.

"Did you come to ' are you here to kill somebody?" The second one said in a hushed voice.

"No, I'm sort of off the clock right now."

"She's not a ninja!" The third one objected. "She's not wearing one of those ninja suits. She's not carrying a sword, and she's not wearing a pair of those ninja boots. Hey, she's not wearing shoes at all."

Katsumi turned slowly to the biker, and spoke to him simply as one would a small child.

"If I wore my "ninja suit,' I would stand out quite a bit, don't you think? My sword is in my vehicle, and I don't care for shoes very much, "ninja boots' or otherwise," she said.

"I saw this show about ninjas," the second man said. "It said they were also into this spy stuff, not just killing people."

"Assassination," Katsumi corrected. "There is a difference."

The first man, who had been silent for the last few minutes, said, "Why are you asking about what happened a few weeks ago?"

"I'll tell you what; if you answer my questions, I'll give you proof I'm a ninja. Let's step outside," Katsumi replied as she opened the door. The cool fresh air felt like a touch of heaven compared to the floating sewage she had to endure. "The man who killed Tammy Scott here has killed twice since. I'm asking what you three may know about it."

"Who wants to know?" The third man demanded. "What business is it of ' hey!"

"Don't you get it?" The second man said after he elbowed the third. "She's been hired."

"We don't have much trouble," the first man began, "I mean we have fights, sometimes some other stuff, but we never had any murders. Not until that day."

"Do you remember what was going on that day?" Katsumi asked.

"We rode, we came here, we hit on some girls," the second man said. "The same stuff we always do. Someone got half sick, went out back to throw up, and that's when she saw the body."

"I see. One more question. Have you seen that woman before?"

"No, I would've recognized her. She didn't look like any of the women who come here. She looked so, so-"

"Upclass," the third man spat.

"No. The news said she worked at one of those soup kitchens or something. One of those "good girls.' Nobody you would see here."

"Thank you," Katsumi said. "You've been very helpful."

"You've asked us more questions than the police did," the first man continued.

"How's that?"

"As soon as we called the cops, they came in no time flat. They never do that here. They taped off the scene, carried off the body, said they'll be in touch. We haven't heard from them much since," the second man added.

"Again, you've been very helpful," Katsumi said, leading the trio to the back of her Hummer. "That show about ninjas, was it the History Channel or Exploration?"

"History Channel."

"Good, they're accurate. Exploration depends too much on legend." She opened the backdoor and pulled out her short sword. For men who were usually drawn to fine looking firearms, the three were in awe when they saw the craftsmanship in Katsumi's sword.

"Hey, how much do you charge?" The third man asked.

"You couldn't afford me," she replied.

As Katsumi placed it back in her scabbard, the second man asked, "How sharp is it?"

The third man overcame his awe, and said, "Big deal, anybody can buy a sword like that, but-"

Katsumi drew her sword and re-sheathed it. The first and the second man stared at the third.

"What are you two staring at me for?" The third man protested. The other two pointed toward the ground where his beard was.

"She shaved you, man," replied the second man.

"How did she do that? I didn't see anything!"

"Hey lady, what are you going to do when you find the killer?" The first man asked as Katsumi got in the front seat of her vehicle.

"A wise man once told me not to ask a question that you know the answer to," she said as she drove off.

"I should get my .44 and blow her away for that," the third man said.

"Man, she cut your beard without you knowing it. How far do you think you can get with her?" The second man replied.

The first man just watched her leave. "I think I'm in love," she said.

Barry Fisher was in his office doing paperwork. Business was going great, but his heart wasn't in it. No matter how many children a parent has, losing just one was as painful as losing more than one. It was more akin to losing a part of one's own body. The CEO would rather lose his fortune, his stores, or even his right arm over losing his daughter. His wife had cried and asked "why?" Barry didn't know why, but at least he was going to take care of the "how" on the solving the problem so this piece of dirt won't harm anyone else.

Suddenly he heard his cell phone ring, the one he carried in his suit's breast pocket. He opened it up and said, "Yes?"

"Tell me more about the authorities you claim to know quite well," Katsumi said over the line.

"There's not much more to tell you, Katsumi. They're glory hounds and incompetent, like I said the other night."

"Yes, you have. I just want you to tell me how incompetent they are."

"Heh. How long do you have?"

"Literally, I have all day."

And so Katsumi heard stories of numerous unsolved mysteries, botched investigations, and even the cases that should have been solved, but weren't, even when the evidence was clear-cut.

"It's horrifying to see my tax dollars pay for such waste," Katsumi remarked.

"You pay taxes?" Barry asked.

"Of course, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah. I just thought with your, uh, lifestyle . . ."

"Aside from my "lifestyle,' I like to enjoy the same rights and privileges like everyone else in this country. And to answer your next question, I'm a web page designer, so that's where my funds go. If I put "professional assassin,' the IRS might get a little leery, don't you think?"

"Nice cover."

"Yes, and by the way, my web designs are very good."

"I'll keep that in mind," Barry smirked from the subtle humor. "So are you implying that the police did it?"

"I am not implying anything just yet. Most likely, it's one or two policemen, if any. It's an almost perfect cover. At one of the places I visited, they said the police came as soon as a call was placed."

"What's unusual about that?"

"The police never get there that fast; it's almost like they were next door."

"If I find out who it was, I'll get a gun and blow them away myself."

"No, that's why you hired me. Crooked or not, they are still professionals, and so am I. I'm sure as a successful businessman, you understand my point."

Barry started to argue, but the cold logic of Katsumi's statement made sense. "Yes, I understand," he said.

"Good. Thank you for the information, and I'll keep in touch if I find out anything else. Goodbye."

"Bye," Barry said as he ended the call. If she weren't an assassin, he'd hire her as one of his executives. She seemed to have excellent business sense.

He picked up a framed picture of Doris. "Justice will be coming soon, sweetheart," he whispered.

Katsumi took off her earpiece and put away her cell phone. Surely Barry would be level-headed enough to not drive down to the police station, and go gunning for whoever he thought killed his daughter. That would easily create more problems than solve them. If her guess was even right, chances are the guilty party had covered themselves with enough paperwork and alibis to silence any signs of suspicion. The big question was how to get to them before they kill again.

Katsumi put all that on the back burner. Right now, she decided to fix Chinese for dinner tonight. Hopefully Alex will like her recipe for sesame chicken.

Dinner turned out to be a success. Not only did Alex devour the first serving, he also inhaled the second and third.

"I'm glad I had a serving; if I left it all to you, there might not be any left for me," Katsumi said, grinning. "And I thought I was the one with a hearty appetite."

Alex stopped for a moment, barely suppressing a burp. "This chicken is good! I'm not sure what you've did with it, but you've did it good," he remarked.

"Perhaps I've missed my calling. Maybe I should be a cook."

"Nah, you'd scare the other cooks chopping vegetables with your katana."

Katsumi laughed. "Then I guess I'll just be your own personal chef. Had a hard day at work?"

"Yeah. One of my supervisors piled some extra work on me when I wasn't looking. I had to work hard and fast to get it done in time with almost no lunch."

"Is that the same supervisor with the bad hairpiece and the scowling eyes?"

"Yes; I know you don't like him."

"What gave you that idea?" Katsumi rested her chin on her hands.

"Ten minutes after you met him at that office party, you pointed out to me that you knew at least five ways to kill him with one blow, and make it look like an accident," Alex remarked.

"I might have exaggerated a little on that. Two of the ways might be noticeable."

"Why don't you like him?"

"He is despicable and untrustworthy. He's jealous of you, you know."

"Jealous of what?"

"I would say because you're a hard worker with large goals you plan to reach, but I think it's because of me." Katsumi ran her toes along the inside of Alex's leg. "Some people want what they can't have."

"Well, uh, yeah. Let's change the subject. How was your day at work? Oh that's right, we're not supposed to discuss that, sorry."

"No, this one we can." Katsumi explained what she found out. Alex was stunned.

"Now I'll feel paranoid if I'm ever pulled over for a traffic ticket," he said. "Providing you even know who it is, or whom they are, how can you get them before they strike again?"

"I don't know," Katsumi sighed. "I've been racking my brains over that detail."

"The only thing I could think of would be setting yourself up as bait and ' no, absolutely not!"

Katsumi, realizing Alex had a perfect idea, said, "Why not, Alex? You know I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, but this isn't sneaking up on someone and punching their lights out; this is putting yourself at the mercy of some pervert who'd want to slice and dice you just because he can."

"Alex, what I do has risks, you know that."

"Against a drug runner, rival businessman who doesn't play nice, yeah; but this guy targets women who would qualify for sainthood and ' I'm not implying that you're, uh-"

"I know exactly what you mean, Alex," Katsumi said.

"I just don't want to lose you, that's all."

Katsumi rose from the table and walked around it. "Come to me, Alex," she breathed.

Alex rose, and Katsumi took his hands and held them tightly.

"Have you researched the information about Tonga yet?" She asked.

"Not yet; my lunch hour was cut pretty short. I'll look it up when I get home."

"If you get home. Alex, I promise you I'll be very careful. There's so much I want to tell you right now, but this isn't the time."

"Why not?"

"Because it is now time for other things," she said as she kissed on Alex's neck and rubbed her hands on his chest. "It's time for my desert."

This wasn't the first time Katsumi applied for a job or performed a job to achieve a particular goal; for a number of contracts, it was the only way she could get in the target's vicinity. She preferred the guise of a maid or cleaning woman. They can go almost anywhere, and nobody pays much attention to them. They also had carts she could hide her katana in, along with other goodies.

So why did she, a lady ninja, an assassin who had performed numbers of sanctions overseas and in corporate America, feel so . . . inadequate, awkward, and even a little nervous when she volunteered to work at a soup kitchen?

It could be the fact that something like this was for saints like Doris Fisher, not someone who has blood on their hands. The hypocrisy and subtle hostile environment present in the concrete jungles where she hunted was nonexistent here. But it probably was the discussion from last night that gave her pause.

Ever since, no, even before she discovered that school of ninjas so long ago in her native Japan, she could take care of herself. She could break the spine of a football player with her bare hands, she knew a couple of places to strike a person that would leave no signs until they fell dead the next day or an hour later. Her sword work alone was more than a match for any thug armed with a gun. She could move like a ghost in total blackness or in the whiteout of a snowstorm. And yet, it was seven words, only seven, that laid her low.

I just don't want to lose you.

Katsumi didn't show it ' part of ninja training was to hide emotion ' but when Alex left, for the first time in a long time, she cried. And it felt good.

He loves me, she concluded. About as much as I love him.

The thought was strangely liberating in a way. Because of her particular occupation, relationships were limited to one-night stands, seeing someone in the same profession (which wasn't as romantic as it sounded), or live a lie ' spinning a web of denial so thick, the truth itself became illusive, and the other partner would feel heartbroken and betrayed.

As a matter of professionalism and principle, Katsumi avoided one-night stands, and male assassins can be as duplicitous as the wind. Perfect for an assassin, but lousy for a relationship. She knew assassins who dated each other, and most of them ended in disaster. One couple got married, but they soon retired from the business, and opened a security company. And she made a promise that if she ever entered a relationship, she would tell that man what she did. With that said, Katsumi resigned herself to live a solitary existence.

And then came Alex.

Not long after she started her web page design business (partly for cover, and mostly because she enjoyed it), she attended a seminar for small businesses. As she asked and learned ways to make her business grow ' both of them ' she met a man who was pondering starting an enterprise of his own. Katsumi indeed liked the black man's good looks, but his intelligence and sense of humor drew her to him so much, she was not far from him throughout the whole seminar.

Both people found out they had a lot in common. Both were orphans with no family, both had to fight some to get where they were, sometimes literally, and both understood the cutthroat reputation of what they did for a living. After a month of chaste, discrete dating, Katsumi told Alex what the true nature of her profession was, complete with showing him her katana, hanging in her closet. When he told her he still wanted to be with her, she didn't show it visibly, but her heart leaped with joy. After she planted a kiss that almost literally left him breathless, she quickly said there will be times she'll be out of town on "business trips," and that she rather not discuss the details of any sanctions. The relationship had continued like that for two years. She even found herself taking fewer assignments because she didn't want to be away from him long. On that same scale, whenever Alex had an office party or out of town business trip, Katsumi went with him. She knew Alex's supervisors almost as well as he did; and she didn't like half of them.

Granted, Alex wasn't crazy about them either, but he knew how to get along with them enough to make things tolerable. Katsumi on the other hand, couldn't see much difference between them and the people she'd been hired to eliminate. She once suggested to Alex she could immediately promote him by either paying a visit to some of his bosses or eliminating them from the equation completely.

"Come on, Katsumi, they have wives and families," Alex laughed.

"And mistresses, and hidden bank accounts, and deals with covert organizations," Katsumi countered. "I bet their removal would make little boys safer."

"Thank you, but no; I'll do it the old-fashioned way."

"I don't have to kill them; I could follow them and take a few pictures. It can be quiet."

"Katsumi, no!"

"No one should serve under bosses so vile."

"I guess that's an advantage you have in your line of business. If someone bothers you, you can wipe them out," Alex explained.

"I am an independent contractor. I answer to almost no one," Katsumi said in mock defiance."

"Almost no one?"

"No one but you . . ."

Katsumi snapped herself out of her musings, and walked into the All Souls Soup Kitchen. Becoming a volunteer was easier than she thought. Perhaps it was her answer, "Everyone has the right to be fed," that had something to do with it. She would do the menial task of helping dish out the food during dinner. She wanted to help cook, but there were too many budding chefs already crowding the kitchen, she was told. That was all right; Katsumi was not familiar with cooking in mass quantities, so she'll just leave it to them.

Dress at the soup kitchen was casual, so it didn't take long for Katsumi to toss her shoes in a corner someplace on the first day, and to arrive to volunteer without them soon after. The work at the soup kitchen was rather satisfying. It did feel good to help those who needed it. It reminded her of her days at the training school where the teachers and students would periodically send food, clothing, or provide services for the school of orphans in town.

One day, someone stopped one of the teachers and asked, "Why are we doing this? We are assassins."

"Yes, we are assassins, but we are still human," the teacher said. "In our world, we deal with those who live a much richer and much more decadent way of life." He gestured toward the orphans. "These little ones will never be involved in the things we do, and they deserve a fair chance at life. Would you deny them this?"

The student shook his head. "No teacher, I would not. I'll pass out the food."

Katsumi overheard the exchange. She often wondered what their reaction would be if they knew one of their assassins came from that very orphanage they were feeding.

Back to the present, Katsumi saw a few women who could be the killer's next victim. They fell into one of two schools of thought: they either sought to be escorted everywhere they went, or they went on with business as usual.

"No one is going to force me to become a prisoner to fear, nor force me to abandon my calling in life," one woman said defiantly.

Katsumi admired her courage. She saw fit to become a silent sentry for them. Despite their awareness, if the killer were whom she suspected, they would still be taken unawares. In spite of TV crime dramas and an occasional movie, a murderer in the guise of a police officer is almost the perfect disguise. Sure, no one would have any doubts about the thug or redneck carrying a badge being corrupt, but what about the patrol officer who you've known for years? Or that patrolman who helps kids cross the street? With an encyclopedic knowledge of the law, plus moving with full authority, and well armed to boot, a police officer cold become a fearsome predator.

They also would be equally hard to sanction as well. Besides being well armed, they travel in pairs, sometimes packs. With the ability to call for backup, that could present a problem.

Katsumi stopped in her steps so suddenly, two volunteers bumped into her. She hastily apologized and resumed walking.

Policemen generally travel in pairs. Unless a lone policeman was committing the murders off duty, odds are that the horrific crimes were done by two perverted patrolmen or one officer committing the deed while the other was compliant, or sick enough to observe the whole thing.

Suddenly things have gotten more complicated.

Later that evening, at Katsumi's condo, it was Alex's turn to cook dinner. On that night, he fixed Southern fried chicken, greens, sweet potatoes, hot rolls and sweet tea with lemon.

"It's a good thing I work out everyday; otherwise I'd be getting fat," Katsumi said.

"Among some southern cooks, they'd see that as a compliment. About what I said about your plan the other night-" Alex began.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Alex."

"Thank you, but there was one thing I overlooked when I said that."

"What's that?"

"Well baby, you're built. I mean really built. I mean no thug in their right mind would dare try anything against you."

"I still don't understand."

"I was watching one of those wildlife shows one night, where lions were hunting some water buffalo. The narrator said the lions always target the weakest in the herd."

"Go on."

"These creeps would be targeting the same thing if this principle applied to people. In other words, they would go after an unsuspecting little old lady, not an almost six-foot Amazon strong enough to smash anyone who looks at her the wrong way."

Katsumi mentally kicked herself. Of course they wouldn't attack her. Her physical stature alone would steer away most thugs. It reminded her of a proverb/joke she heard once. Question: Why does the hawk chase the rabbit? Answer: Because the wolf is bigger and bites back.

"Thank you, Alex," Katsumi said slowly. "I have erred."

"Not completely. Just look for those ladies that would most likely be victims and tail them."

"Of course. Alex, do you like my muscles?"

"You know I do, baby."

"Good, because I'm going to seize you with them," Katsumi said as she rose from the table.

"Before you do that, I got the information you wanted about Tonga," Alex got up and playfully moved away from Katsumi to the other side of the table.

"Save it, I have other things in mind."

"I also have blackberry cobbler cooling in the kitchen."

"Really?"

"Uh huh."

Katsumi thought for a moment, then resumed chasing Alex around the table.

"After I do what I plan to do with my prey, I'll have burned off enough of dinner to have desert."

Her name was Katy. She was petite, blond, and had a heart that oozed kindness. She never had a cross word to say to anyone, and even the grumpiest of people would soften up in her presence. This was the woman Katsumi would be tailing.

The lady ninja couldn't help giggling to herself. She knew a woman just like just like Katy back home in Japan. The only difference was that sweet, unassuming woman could break the backs of foes many times her size, and had at last count ten kills to her credit as a bodyguard for a lawyer. Wren had the type of smile men would die for, and the type of skills that many already had.

It was safe to assume Katy wasn't a master of the lethal arts, and no one but the most degraded would do her harm. Katsumi would do everything in her power to make sure that would not happen.

One day, as everyone was fed, and the sun was setting, two policemen dropped by. They chatted with the crew, and most especially with Katy. While sitting nearby snapping green beans, Katsumi focused on listening to their conversation (for some reason, they did not want to talk to Katsumi). Discretely, Katsumi looked over the two policemen. As police officers go, they had the standard build of officers who were relatively fresh from the academy. They both were her height, both were white, both brunette with crew cuts. And then Katsumi saw their eyes; that's what prompted her to act.

Excusing herself for a minute, Katsumi walked tentatively but quietly to her rented Toyota hatchback (her Hummer would've easily attracted too much attention). She pulled out a chip the size of a quarter, and another the size of a dime. She also pulled out a small receiver with a separate earpiece. After checking the equipment for batteries, she stuffed them in her apron pocket, and circled around to the soup kitchen's general parking lot. The coast was clear, but since it was daytime, she still had to be careful.

The police cruiser was unlocked, which was what Katsumi expected. Only a fool would break into a police car. Peeling off the adhesives, she planted the larger chip inside the car, and placed the other chip to the undercarriage. She darted quickly away, heading back into the rear entrance to resume her seat in front of her green beans.

Katsumi was once taught by her teachers that the eyes can reveal a lot. What she saw in the policemen's eyes was something that did not belong to an officer of the law. But she could not base her findings on hunches alone, so she placed a bug and a tracker on their car. The receiver resembled a cell phone receiver, so to the untrained eye, it looked like the person was in the middle of or making a phone call. The tracker was hooked up to her GPS system in her Hummer, but she could track the vehicle later that night.

"What did the police want?" Katsumi asked Katy.

"I'm not sure," Katy replied. "They were telling me how things were not safe around here, and I would probably need a police escort to take me home."

"What did you say?"

"I said it's not fair that I get an escort, but no one else does. You look like you could take care of yourself, for example, but why should you be denied safety while I have it?"

Katsumi inwardly applauded Katy on her logic; it may have saved her life. "I appreciate you thinking about me like that," Katsumi said.

"If our sole purpose at this place is to think about just ourselves, then why are we here? We are here to care for others, even those who work beside us. Besides, I wouldn't go with those two, regardless."

"Why not, other than the reason you had said?"

"Something about those two just doesn't feel right." Katy blew back a blond lock that fell over her eye. "I know they are policemen, but they reminded me of the football players I had to shoo away in college."

Katsumi found herself admiring this woman more and more. "Brushing off the football players? A lot of women would kill for that privilege," she said.

"A lot of women didn't know what I knew. Being a journalist had its advantages."

"So you're a reporter?"

"No, I started writing a column a few years ago, and it became syndicated, hitting ninety newspapers at last count. This is what I do between writings. Kind of a funny combination, isn't it? I love the independence of my career, yet I love spending my free time helping, those who have not much to at least have a nice day."

"What's the name of your column?"

"Katie Kares."

Katsumi stopped for a moment. She read that column!

"I've read your column," Katsumi said before she could stop herself.

"Do you like it? You can be honest with me," Katie said.

"Yes I do," Katsumi replied honestly.

"I'm glad. You'd be surprised how many people would call me socialist, communist, even na#ve for what I've wrote. I always ask, what's wrong with helping people? There's nothing political about that."

Katsumi needed to operate her tap, so she excused herself. "I need to get back to my green beans," she said.

"I do go on sometimes," Katy laughed. "All right, I'll let you go. And keep my "day job' between us, okay?"

"No problem."

As soon as Katsumi sat down behind her bushel of green beans, she switched on her receiver. The reception was excellent; no interference from the police radio, computer, or any other electronic device on board. The two voices were crystal clear, perhaps too clear as Katsumi listened in.

The first voice said, "So what do you think?"

The second voice replied, "Pretty hot, but she's not going to give up without a fight."

First voice: "I want her."

Second voice: "Me too, but she's not giving it up."

First voice: "She might, with the proper motivation, like the others. If not, we'll tell her the alternative."

Others, what others? Katsumi thought to herself.

Second voice: "That reminds me, we'll need to get back to Mercy House sometime. The pickings were pretty sweet there. Anyway, I'm saying she might be like those ten we did, fighting to the end. You remember that last one? Boy, she was a fighter! We had to cut her just to slow her down, and even then she kept going."

First voice: "And we find out she's the daughter of that dude who owns Mighty Mart. We could've held her for ransom. You know what a couple of million could get us?"

Second voice: "A hefty pension, spent on some island somewhere, and all the beer we could drink. Oh well."

First voice: "Yeah, we'd be bored anyway. So, when do you want to do this? Tonight?"

Second voice: "Nah, its poker night. How about the night after tomorrow?"

First voice: "Sounds like a plan. She gets off around 8:30, that's her late night. We'll get her just before she gets in her car (pauses to listen to the police radio). Looks like we have a domestic disturbance to take care of. It's in our area."

Second voice: "Ah, duty calls."

First voice: "But we're going to have some fun two nights from now!"

Katsumi reached up and turned off her receiver. She'd heard enough for now. She'll listen to them later. She looked down to find out she snapped two bushels of green beans in record time. Some of them were almost crushed. Glancing at her watch, she excused herself and drove home.

Once she got home, she pulled out some old rugs, rolled them up, and doused them with water. After they were good and soggy, she stood them up on their ends. She reached into her closet and pulled out a katana. Not the one she normally used, but an older, heavier sword that was not as sharp. Next, she pulled off her sweater and jeans, throwing them in a corner, leaving her clad in only a silk red bra and panties. She marched over to her stereo and pulled out a CD to examine it. Storm Clouds, by a Russian composer, perfect. Katsumi placed the CD in, forwarded it to a particular track and played it, making sure to turn up the volume.

Giving an ear-piercing cry (or it would be, if it was heard above the music), she delivered a forward slash with her sword, cutting off the first corner of the first rug. She proceeded to deliver all the elementary sword cuts she'd been taught, giving a loud cry each time.

Coming from work, Alex opened the door, and froze as Katsumi prepared to deliver her final cut to the last rug. Sensing someone behind her, Katsumi turned to see Alex as she stood covered in sweat and breathing hard. She reached over and turned down the volume.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Katsumi said.

"What's wrong? Let's see; I was asked by one of my supervisors to come back later tonight to finish somebody else's work, so I tried calling you on your cell and house phone with no response. I did this twice. I figured you might be busy, so I thought I'd drop by to leave a note. Instead, I hear this music blasting from the floor before this one. When I open the door, I see my girlfriend using some wicked looking sword to hack innocent old rugs that had done nothing to you in pieces in her red underwear. It's a hot sight, I'll admit, but still. And you turn to me and ask me what's wrong? And why is the floor wet?" Alex replied.

"Alex, my love, I-" Katsumi was at a loss for words. Where would she begin?

"Let me make a wild guess; the case is going nowhere, so you got frustrated and came home to slice rugs," Alex guessed.

"No, I discovered who did it, I found out what they have done, and what they plan on doing next," Katsumi corrected. She explained what more she found out, and Alex's eyes widened.

"I will be working late as well that night," Katsumi finished.

"Yes, they must pay. Please be careful, baby."

"Always. So Alex, you think I look "hot' like this?"

"Baby, I always think you look hot. Katsumi, this isn't like you."

"What do you mean?" Katsumi asked, confused.

"Well you're normally so sure of yourself, confident, calm. Today you seem apprehensive, even nervous. Before you do your thing, two days from now, you need to do something to calm down so you'll be able to act."

Katsumi realized Alex was right. Ever since she heard the policemen describe what they did, she had been on edge. Slicing rugs helped calm her down a little bit, but not enough. She needed to do something else. She leaned her sword against a wall, seized Alex, and closed the door.

Later that evening, a more relaxed Katsumi designed a few web pages for a client. Focusing on other work helped relieve the tension; besides, the client needed the finished product tomorrow. She had her receiver connected to some speakers, and the trackers' display on a separate laptop. So far she heard nothing but the inane commentary, crude humor, and muttered cursing of a poker game. Apparently the police play their game in a heated garage with the police cruisers still running. They ordered pizza, and some of the off-duty officers purchased some beer. Judging from the sounds of a few of them, they already consumed mass quantities. They must be playing close by her subjects' car.

Poker to Katsumi was just another game of chance that required no real skill other than guessing what your opponent was going to do. Japan had games similar to it. Two questions came to her while listening to this game. If there is a connection between poker and sex, what is it? Then again, some men, even those she trained with, saw sex in everything. The more nagging question was what was this preoccupation with the length of their members? Most women, except prostitutes and sluts don't care about that. If these men base their manhood on that, they're in sad shape indeed. Finally, she could take no more and switched the receiver off, tossing it across the room.

She had just put the finishing touches to her work when her special cell phone rang. Pushing her primary laptop to the side, she answered it.

"Good evening, Mr. Fisher," she said.

"Evening. I, I just wanted to know how close you are to finding them," Mr. Fisher replied.

Katsumi paused for a second. Yes, she's absolutely sure she found his daughter's killer, but she didn't want to give him so much information; he would grab the nearest firearm and hunt them down himself. That could be very disastrous in many ways.

"I'm very close," Katusmi said.

"You are? You know the sons of-"

"Mr. Fisher, I understand your need for revenge," Katsumi interrupted, "and I could not blame you for delivering justice yourself. However, as I told you before, they are professionals. They are armed, and know how to shoot. A forced engagement with them may end up with you dead, at worst, or in some type of lawsuit that will have you imprisoned, at best. And they'll be free to kill again; plus they know who you are through your daughter. I am the instrument of your vengeance, Mr. Fisher. Let me do what you've paid me to do."

"You know, that's the second time you've called them professionals," Barry Fisher said. "If your first estimation is true, what's protecting us, for God's sake!"

"I don't know. I will call you when the deed is finished. Wait; perhaps there is something you can do."

"What's that?" Barry asked.

"To become a law officer, there are many tests and training a candidate goes through. As a major businessman, you have an audience with the movers and shakers. If the problem began because of shoddy work at the top . . ."

"I see your point. I can see about disposing of the scum who allowed this to happen," Barry realized.

"We could be a team of sorts. You get rid of the nest, while I stomp the cockroaches, so to speak. Believe it or not, I don't like the prospect of crooked policemen cruising the city any more than you do."

"I'll get to work on that. That'll make the city safer. Doris would like that."

"Yes, she would. Expect a call from me two nights from now. Then start your plans."

"All right. And thank you."

After the phone conversation was over, Katsumi thought for a moment. Initially, she wanted to calm Fisher down and prevent him from doing something stupid and fatal. But from what she was told initially, the police were inept, glory seeking, and corrupt. Even an assassin was not safe in a town like that. If he could use his influence to take down the leadership, or even to expose it, well she wouldn't be getting calls from angry parents who want to avenge their innocent sons or daughters against the forces who were duty bound to protect them.

Putting the phone away, Katsumi considered making a phone call to Alex. Better yet, she considered breaking into the office building, sneaking into his office, throwing him on his desk and . . .

Katsumi abruptly got up, dispelling the fantasy from her mind. She needed to do a light workout and a cold shower before she went to bed.

The next morning, Katsumi got up and performed her normal workout, kata and swordplay, followed by a hearty breakfast. Normally, Alex came over to fix breakfast, but she told him not to come over because of the late hours he spent at work last night. That way, he would get more rest, and Katsumi would prepare herself for tonight.

In her profession, the day of her assignment could be her last, ending in capture or death. It's a reality that must be faced, and only the arrogant or foolhardy assassin ignored it. Stressing the point, her teachers once told a story of a master assassin who had the assignment of killing a sixty-year-old grandmother who ran a company in competition to its rivals, who had no scruples about taking her out permanently. The assassin, seeing an easy payday, accepted the task.

As he entered the mansion, he found out ' rather painfully ' that the elderly woman, who was in very good shape, had a baseball bat in her bedroom, and knew how to use it. Though she was tempted to do a "home run" upside his head, she delivered enough damage to put him in the hospital. But not after she asked a few questions. Fearing further injury, he complied.

"How did you know I was coming?" He asked.

"My Siamese cat Sydney. He always creates a racket when someone enters the house," she said.

Luckily for the assassin, the story didn't end there. After he healed from his wounds, she hired him as a personal bodyguard, at a flattering salary. But he learned his lesson, which he passed on to Katsumi's teachers: do not underestimate your assignments. Even the "easiest" one could be your last.

The lesson was not lost on Katsumi. Her job security rested primarily on escape and survival. Sometimes the killing was the easy part. She had narrow escapes, close scrapes with security teams running after her, and close battles with people, even the target as well trained in fighting as she was. Every now and then, she stopped to remember some of her classmates who didn't make it.

After she readied herself, she took her desktop computer and arranged a video conference call to Japan. Doing the calculations in her head, it should be evening, around ten or eleven o'clock. In a moment, she saw the smiling faces of her teachers.

"Katsumi!" The first one said. "It's an honor to hear from you."

"I see you're still as big and strong as ever," the second teacher said. "And what about your shoes?"

Katsumi responded by lifting up her left bare foot and wiggling her toes. "The same, sensei," she remarked.

Both teachers laughed. "So how is our beloved student today?" The first one asked.

"Very well. Both of you and my fellow students have been like family to me. The lessons you've taught me I always made a point to take to heart. I have made this call to ask of you a special request. It is something close to my heart."

"And what is this special request, Katsumi?" The second teacher asked.

She told them, and both responded with surprise, then delight.

"We would be more than happy to do this," the second teacher replied.

"When will this be?" The first teacher asked.

"Soon; I'll inform you when it is. Please inform the others. I thank you very much for your support."

They talked about other things as well. When she ended the call, she finally felt ready to end things that night. She left a message on Alex's voice mail to come by as usual for breakfast the next day. All that remained was to take care of two crooked cops.

The day was cold, and the night was even colder, but Katsumi had faced colder days than this in Japan. She was dressed ready to move, but not so it would raise suspicion.

She had on a sweater that was thick, and dark blue with gray squares. It was bulky, providing a small cushion of protection from some blows. For pants, she decided on a pair of black straight-leg jeans. With that, she wore a black belt that had a small dagger and shuriken placed on, or rather combined the belt buckle. The soup kitchen was already aware of Katsumi's shoelessness, and that night provided no exception as only a silver ankle bracelet (a gift from Alex), and black toenail polish adorned her feet.

Katsumi believed her bare soles could navigate her through the battlefield better, knowing intimately the ground she was fighting on. Her coat was a dark gray duster that hid a short sword and a baton, along with a few other tricks.

During the day, Katsumi parked her Hummer in a parking garage a few blocks away. When night fell, she moved her vehicle much closer to the soup kitchen. As nice as her rented car was, she needed the familiarity, control, and speed of her own. At a moments' notice, it should take roughly ten seconds to dart from the kitchen to reach the Hummer in its hiding place.

After a pleasant and uneventful morning session, and plans and food were prepared for the night's dinner, Katie approached Katsumi and asked, "Are you ready to bring some joy into people's lives tonight?"

"Yes I am," Katsumi replied, reflecting on the long-term implications of her actions. People like Katie could do their work without fear of being attacked by those sworn to their duty to protect them.

Katsumi was certain from their conversation that Katie would be their target. From the information she gleaned, the two patrolmen make their rounds at various soup kitchens throughout the city, and target certain women, demanding sexual favors from them. The women are forced to stay quiet, or else. The others who were defiant to the end were dispatched and dumped in the back of a nightclub they wouldn't be seen in alive. The city's police in their stupidity accepted the flimsy explanation that the victims went out for a night on the town when they were attacked. It was safe to assume in Doris' case that she would not comply nor stay quiet, sending her to her fate. Katsumi assumed after the two policemen were taken care of, people would begin to talk, revealing how long this mess had been going on, and the number of victims that was left in its wake. In fact, if Barry Fisher was successful, there could be a new and improved police department in a year's time.

For the present, she needed to be concerned about two things; being in range when Katie was abducted, and the reminder that both carry guns. Policemen are trained to hold onto their revolvers the same way a samurai was trained to hold onto their sword. Disarming them wouldn't be easy. She'd settle for cutting them both, but they'll possibly have a hostage.

These were concerns for later, Katsumi thought to herself as she gave a second helping of potatoes and green beans to a hungry man. He was a Hispanic with a wife and four kids who just moved into town. Though the welding job he just obtained paid good money, it would take a week or two to adapt to the adjustments and get back on their feet.

"Gracias," the man replied.

"De nada," Katsumi replied. The man's eyebrows shot up.

"You speak Spanish?"

"Si." Actually, Katsumi also knew six other languages, but he didn't need to know that. "Why don't you ask your wife and children to come back here; we have plenty left for seconds."

After the serving was over, and clean up was in full swing, Katsumi sat down and looked at her watch. Stifling a yawn, she surveyed her surroundings. The staff was either doing their jobs or circulating among the diners; the diners themselves were talking with others as they let their meals settle. The children were in a corner playing games, and Katie was . . .

Where was Katie?

Katsumi shot up, and politely made her way toward the last place she'd seen her. She finally saw her at the service entrance talking to the two policemen. She hid behind a stack of boxes and listened to their conversation.

"We really urge you to come with us, Katie," the first officer said. "It's really important."

"I appreciate that, Officer Barnes, but I still have things to do here," Katie replied. "If it's that important, it can wait until later, or tomorrow morning."

"Even when it's something vitally important for All Souls?" The second officer asked.

"Well last I checked, Officer Smith, things at All Souls are going great. Gifts and donations have exceeded last year's goals, and everyone loves the food. You should drop by and eat dinner sometime. And if this news is so important, then you need to tell Amanda; she's the person in charge."

"Do your dates think you're this difficult?" Officer Barnes blurted out.

"Pardon?"

"What Officer Barnes meant was you better come with us," Officer Smith said. "You can come peacefully, or in handcuffs."

Katie paused for a second, then said, "Well since you put it that way, how can I refuse? Can I get my coat?"

"You won't need it," Officer Smith grumbled.

As they started walking to the car, Katsumi briskly walked to the closet to grab her coat, then trotted to the spot her Hummer was sitting. When she saw the locater light on her GPS unit moving, she counted to five, then pulled out and followed them. As long as the system was working, she didn't have to see them, and her targets would never see her. She turned on the receiver to listen to the conversation.

" . . . You know what the problem is with people like you?" Officer Barnes said over the speakers.

"What?" Katie said, a little annoyed.

"You think you're better than everybody else."

"Because I feed people, I put myself above everyone else."

"Yeah."

"That makes no sense."

"You stand up in front of everybody, saying I'm so good, showing off and all. I bet you did the same thing when you were in college."

"Did what?"

"Run for homecoming queen, dated the star football player, made all the men look your way. But you didn't put out, did you?"

"In college, I was a nerd who edited the campus newspaper, and was active on the chess team. What does all this have to do with me?"

"What it means, Katie, is that you need to be taken down a peg or two," Officer Smith spoke up for the first time.

"A peg or two," Katie repeated.

"Yeah; how far you need to be taken down depends on you."

Back in the Hummer, Katsumi shook her head. Obviously these two men had psychological problems. Don't police departments run tests for those things? From what she knew, they did, but somehow these two slipped through the cracks. The signal led to the back of a deserted factory building, which was not far from a raggedy dive of a nightclub. Now she understood the dumping of the body at these places was their way of telling the world that these women or maybe all women were just cheap tramps, no matter what they did for a living. She parked the Hummer, and crept in the shadows. She could see Katie, dressed in a bulky white sweater, jeans and sneakers, reasoning with the two uniformed officers. No, she wasn't reasoning.

"So why don't you two tell me what you really want to do," Katie stated.

"Officer Barnes has had a long day," Smith started, "and unless you want him to carve up that pretty face of yours, you'll need to get down on your knees, unzip his pants, and relieve him of all that daily stress. And when you're through, you can do the same for me."

Katsumi had heard and seen enough. She got ready to spring, when what happened next surprised even her. With some slight of hand that would make a master magician envious, a small canister appeared in Katie's right hand.

"I have a better idea," she said as she shot the contents of the canister into Barnes' face.

Katsumi saw it was a miniature can of pepper spray. It had only a small amount, but it was more than enough to leave the cop screaming and rubbing his eyes. A second too late, Smith knocked the tiny can from Katie's hand. That didn't deter Katie from what she did next. Katsumi figured Katie at some time received some simple restraint procedures (which some hospitals, nursing homes, and other places that may deal with combative people teach their employees), and/or some basic self-defense techniques. She could see the textbook strikes, blocks, and moves executed at a blinding speed. One of those blows alone may not hurt much by themselves, but the cumulative effect can wear down even the biggest foe. Smith was stunned and made a rally to retaliate, but Katie saw that moment to kick her sneakered foot between his legs. Smith dropped to his knees yelling, and Katie moved in to create some more damage, when suddenly she saw him reach blindly for his revolver. She then decided to exercise the best move she knew, run. So she did, taking a nanosecond to push Barnes into a pile of boards and muddy trash.

Katsumi took a quick look at Smith's face, which was swelling and bloody, along with the rest of him. It was then that she realized that Katie wasn't conducting a desperate battle to fend her attackers off, she was going for the kill. If he didn't reach for his gun, Katie would've finished the job.

Barnes raised his gun, but Katie moved too fast, and he fought to see straight. He just needed to wing her, to keep her from entering that alleyway. But it was too late; she whipped around the corner before he could aim. A chain suddenly wrapped around the barrel of his gun, and jerked it out of his hands. He looked up, and found himself facing a large, angry, barefoot Amazon towering over him.

"Doris, and the other women you two have killed wanted to give you a message. They reserved for you a room in Hell, and it is ready," Katsumi said.

Adrenaline helped to push away the pain Barnes was feeling as he saw Katsumi. Rising slowly to his feet, he said, "Oh, so Katie's big bad girlfriend came to save the day, eh? Well all it's gonna do is get you cut!" He whipped out a flick blade knife and twirled it into position. Katsumi with a casual speed of her own pulled out her short sword from the sheaf in her coat.

To Barnes, three things registered in his mind regarding this upcoming blade fight. One, her blade was bigger than his. Two, she looked like she knew how to use it; and three, to keep from having his guts strewn about the alley, he needed something to even the score. He quickly pulled out his Billy club to hold in his left hand. He immediately started feinting and stabbing as he circled around her.

A part of Katsumi wanted to laugh. She had been taught by masters to pull out her sword, cut whatever or whoever was in front of her, and return the sword to its scabbard in a mere handful of seconds. And she knew some who moved faster than her, able to disembowel an adversary at gunpoint. This fool still thought he was involved in a backyard brawl. She stepped forward, her bare right foot landing on a patch of soft earth, and effortlessly delivered a forward slash.

The slash knocked the knife out of Barnes' hand, cut a fine line in his leather coat, and bit into his Billy club. At the apparent mismatch, he dropped his club and said with bravado, "You want some? Let's do this one on one then, c'mon."

Katsumi remembered that Billy clubs were made from a solid, heavy wood. Even as sharp as her sword was, it would take a while to chop through it. Now he wanted to fight hand to hand, which suited her fine; she wanted to take him apart with her bare hands anyway. She returned her sword, and shrugged her coat off, laying it on a nearby workhorse, and then she prepared herself as Barnes came charging in. Upon close inspection under the bright streetlights, she saw that Katie had inflicted more damage than she thought. His face was puffy, bruised, with possibly a cracked cheekbone. Underneath his clothes, he probably carried some damage as well. After this was over, she needed to ask Katie a few questions, like where she learned to fight like that. Those were no mere self-defense moves.

As Barnes swung at her, depending on brute strength to help him, Katsumi adopted the snake fighting style with blocks and strikes to his weak points. She could match him strength to strength, but that was exhausting in the end. She had nothing to prove anyway, just take the man out, and finish off the other man, still on the ground moaning and rubbing his eyes.

Still, with all the lighting fast strikes she delivered, it seemed to have no effect. Finally, she stepped in with a foot sweep knocking him off his feet and slammed the ball of her right foot down, breaking a board where his head would've been on the ground. Barnes managed to roll and get up, but he left himself open to a heart strike from her fingers in the form of a beak. Barnes staggered back, but didn't fall down, nor go into arrest like the blow was supposed to do. He reached into his coat, and pulled out his badge, which was now dented. He returned it, and put up his fists.

It was then that Katsumi realized she was also fighting another opponent, luck. It was that, not skill, which kept him from being cut, crippled, or dead from her strikes. That thick leather coat didn't help either. Her teachers once said that luck could either be a welcome accomplice or a fearsome foe.

Bailey flung dirt at Katsumi's face, which she dodged (she saw the move coming a mile away), but it enabled him to move in close and deliver two punches to her stomach. The blows didn't hurt Katsumi; she spent hours working on her core muscles for that purpose. What they did do was to prove the second thing her teachers once said about luck: she was a fickle mistress, and she doesn't stick around long. Twisting her waist, she launched a heel palm blow as an uppercut, striking him under the chin. He flew back, landing among some lumber as he fell, his head lolling at a strange angle.

"You killed him!" She heard, turning to see Officer Smith standing, facing her. His eyes were still blood red from the pepper spray, hands twitching.

"Yes, and you're next," Katsumi said coldly. His revolver was still strapped in, but it didn't matter. Whether the flap was fastened or not, she could reach him and take him out before he had the wits to fire.

"I don't think so. I'm taking you in for murder. I'll see that you never make it out of prison alive."

"Arresting me for murder? That's rather funny, coming from you. I'm going nowhere; you're not going to do anything, but die."

As Smith was about to scramble for his gun, a chain, the one Katsumi used to disarm Bailey, wrapped around his neck. Suddenly the petite form of Katie was behind him, swinging him back and forth like a dog with a chew toy.

"Didn't you hear? You and Bailey have a room reserved for you. We need to make sure you get there," Katie said, jerking hard on both ends of the chain.

"Katie, no!" Katsumi cried.

"Doris was my friend, and one of the kindest people on the planet. Then these scumbags took her away, like they did with the others they couldn't use as whores. Well not tonight!"

"Katie, you don't need to do this! That's my job!"

"You already got one; this one is mine. I wanted to do Bailey first, but Smith here will do."

Smith struggled to get free, but with a surprising show of strength, Katie tugged him off his feet, and planted a knee in his back as she finished him off. Once done, she dropped the chain, stood up and faced Katsumi.

"So what's with the sword, you a ninja or something?" She asked.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Katsumi said, slowly. In her time of being a ninja, she never saw anything like she'd witnessed only a moment ago.

"Then that just meant you've been hired to take these two out," Katie continued, gesturing toward the bodies. "Well if you came later, there wouldn't have been any left for you."

"So where did you learn to . . ."

"To fight? Working at the soup kitchen, we have a volunteer who teaches us restraint techniques in case someone gets unruly. And years ago, I took a self-defense course. I spent hours practicing my strikes and moves until they became natural. Very basic, I know, but I think they did the trick."

"Yes, I would agree. But if you did this for hours, then you must have planned to, to-"

"Kill them both? Yes. Once I had Bailey on his knees, I was going to rip his throat out, but he was still able to draw his gun, so I had to plan something else. But you came, and it was exciting watching you fight him. You didn't need any help there. But I had to kill Smith before you got him; I vowed to get at least one of them."

This was still a strange thing for Katsumi. Talking about killing people like one would talk about the weather was not new to her; then again, this was what she did. This was not what you expect to hear from a freelance newspaper columnist and/or soup kitchen volunteer worker.

"Where did the pepper spray come from?" She asked.

Katie pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing a strange looking mechanism strapped to her wrist. "Like it? I bought it from an online spy store. The cans of pepper spray are really small, but you don't need too much, do you?"

"How long have you known it was them?"

"Not soon enough. I am a columnist, that's true, but I am a reporter at heart as well; that's my training. The workers in the soup kitchens know each other, so when we heard about one of us missing, or another one depressed because they were forced to perform some sexual act, I eventually caught wind of it. I would ask around, but people were afraid to talk, unless they wanted to end up cut up in the back of some bar somewhere.

"Unfortunately the pieces didn't come together until they got Doris. That night, Doris' last words to me the night she was killed was "Two cops wanted to see me about something, I'll be right back.' It was a simple matter of elimination who those "two cops' were. You know the rest."

"Why didn't you take this to the cops? Never mind, forget I said that," Katsumi backpedaled.

"Yeah, the victims who were attacked or killed were big advocates of going to the police. But what if it is the police? Something else must be done. I assume you drove; can we go back in your car? It's starting to get chilly out here."

"One more thing," Katsumi said as she got her coat and pulled out a microcassette in a plastic bag. She laid the bag on Bailey's body, then took a cloth and wiped off the chain.

"I never had a speeding ticket, I doubt they'll trace it back to me," Katie stated.

"You can never be too careful. Always cover your tracks."

After they got in the Hummer, Katsumi asked, "So what happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Katie, you just killed a man, almost two men. How are you going to deal with that?"

"Self-defense."

"Katie, you attacked them. And what basic self-defense course teaches you to rip a man's throat out?"

Katie smiled sheepishly. "Well that class I took, it was taught by a friend of mine," she said.

"And?" Katsumi urged.

"In the Marines. I asked, he pulled a few strings, and I took the class. It was exciting."

"I see. It looks like we're going to have a few things to talk about on the way back," Katsumi sighed.

"Oh yeah. So, do all ninja go without shoes, or is it just you?" Katie asked.

Katsumi put the Hummer in gear, grinning slightly. "It's just me," she said.

After returning to the soup kitchen, and receiving a multitude of questions from Katie, Katsumi found a moment alone to make some calls. She almost considered calling her teachers to enroll Katie as a new student, but decided the woman was dangerous enough on her own. She called Alex first. He was working late again that night.

"Hey baby," Alex said upon answering his cell phone.

"Hello Alex," Katsumi replied. "It's over, at last. Will you be able to come over for breakfast?"

"Yeah, sure. Is something up?"

"No, just tired. Have you been busy?"

"Oh, you have no idea. They just piled all this paperwork on me. I guess they think I have nothing else better to do, like have a life."

"We will talk more about it in the morning. I just wanted to tell you I was through, and to have breakfast with me. Alex, I love you."

"Well I love you too, baby. I'll see you in the morning. Bye."

"Goodbye."

Katsumi ended her call feeling very nervous. There was so much she wanted to tell him. But she had to wait until morning. Now she pulled out the cell phone that only she and Barry Fisher had used. After she punched in the number, Barry answered on the first ring.

"Yes?" He said.

"It is finished," Katsumi replied.

"Good. I'll have the money sent to your account immediately. Listen, I know what you've done won't bring Doris back, but for now, it will make things safe for people like her. For that, I thank you."

"You're welcome. Now listen carefully; the bodies of the two policemen will be located behind some abandoned warehouse, not far from some nightclub. They were about to endanger another victim."

"Did they . . ."

"No, I got there in time." Katsumi saw no reason to mention Katie's involvement. "After it was over, I placed a micro cassette on Officer Barnes's body."

"Barnes? That psycho, what's he still doing on the force?" Barry exploded.

"You know of him?"

"Yeah, he and a man named Smith were given administrative leave for sexually harassing female suspects. Or they were supposed to, anyway."

"So this will make things interesting. The tape has a recorded conversation between them regarding their next victim. Once that comes out, that should be the time to strike."

"Not that I claim to be a legal expert, but that tape would probably be thrown out of court. Illegal recording and all that."

"In case they don't play it, I'll send another copy to the news stations and newspapers. As for whether it's legal in court or not, it won't matter, the seeds will be sown. I predict in at least a year, a new police department will appear. And there will be nothing that will link you to any of this."

"Thanks again. Ah, look, it's not like I'll be using your services again, or anything, you understand."

"I understand perfectly, Mr. Fisher, it's okay."

"But wouldn't a new and improved police force make your job more . . . difficult?"

"No it won't, Mr. Fisher. For you see, this is my last assignment."

"So she said she's going back to what she normally does?" Alex said, eating an English omelet.

"In her world, she provides mercy for those who need it, and in this case, administer justice to those who prey on them," Katsumi explained. "Doris' death, along with many others have been avenged, the victims are free, and a corrupt institution will be taken down. So I guess she'll have little trouble returning to her way of life."

"It's going to be a real mess with the police," Alex said, rising from his seat to go to work. "I'd hate to be around that mess."

Katsumi rested a hand on Alex's own. "You don't have to," she breathed.

"That sounds nice, but they'll have my butt in a sling if I'm not there. I have to go."

"No, you don't. Come away with me, Alex."

"Go away with you where?"

"Remember the little assignment I gave you regarding Tonga?" Katsumi said, rubbing Alex's hand gently.

"Yeah, but a vacation wouldn't be possible right now," Alex said sadly.

"No, you don't understand. I'm not talking about a vacation."

"You're not?"

Katsumi stood up and looked Alex in the eye. "No. I'm talking about you and me, together, going to Tonga and staying. I'm talking about watching the sunset on the ocean from our deck. Making love on the sandy shores as the waves roll in. Eventually raising children with you. You know the business you've wanted to start? You can, without dealing with those fools you work for."

"What about what you do?"

"That ended last night. I'm not an assassin anymore, Alex. I'm just a web page designer, and I hope your wife."

"Are you saying-"

"Marry me, Alex."

Alex stood back, eyes blinking. "This is quite a bit in one morning. You want me to quit right now, marry you and move to Tonga? I don't know what to say," he said.

"Yes would be nice," Katsumi quipped.

"But let's think this out. You're talking about moving to an island. That's not cheap. What are we going to live on, air?"

Katsumi grinned as she played with Alex's tie. She was tempted to loosen it, but suppressed it. Not just yet. "I never have divulged to you how much I made as a ninja, have I?" She asked.

"No, you haven't."

"Let's put it this way. You know this condominium and my Hummer? They're both paid for with cash."

Alex's eyes widened in shock.

"And the night we first met? I could have retired comfortably for the rest of my life if I chose. Money is no problem, Alex. The bulk of it I have in an account overseas gaining interest. More than enough capital to start your business."

"I don't need a whole lot of capital to start."

"You're right, you don't. Now are you going to say yes, or do I need to grab my katana, go to your workplace, and cut down every boss you work for?"

"You'd do it too, wouldn't you?"

"I just want to make you happy, Alex."

"You do make me happy, Katsumi. And I don't want to spend life without you."

"Does that mean you say yes?"

"Yes baby, it does. Now let me go to work so I can give them my two-week notice."

Katsumi growled softly. "I don't want two weeks; I want you now."

"A week and a half?"

"No."

"A week?"

"No."

"Katsumi, I need a little time to clean out my desk at least, and tell them I'm leaving," Alex pleaded.

Katsumi considered it. "Very well; I will give you three days to finish things there, but no more work after business hours. If you're forced to work a fourth day, I will come down there and collect you myself, and heaven help whoever gets in my way."

Alex laughed. "You never cared much for the corporate sector, have you?"

"Baby, most of my assignments have been in the corporate sector. Only working around politicians would've kept me busier. Now go down there and take care of business before I change my mind."

"Change your mind?"

"Yes, I'm forcing myself to let you go now. Go, before I make you late."

Grabbing his topcoat, Alex kissed Katsumi, and gave a mock salute. "I'll be back as soon as work is over."

"You better. Bye, my love."

Katsumi knew it would take a few days to get things in order where Alex worked. She just knew they only considered him a pawn there. Well no more. Meanwhile, Katsumi had a few things to take care of herself.

Katie sat in front of her computer, writing her latest column. Wearing gray sweat clothes, white socks, and blue clogs, she blazed away on what came to her mind that morning. As she told Katsumi the other night, life for her had returned to normal. She wrote during the day, while helping out at soup kitchens at night. The community of helpers, volunteers, and paid staff, breathed easier when they heard about the demise of the two cops. Victims came forth and admitted what the policemen did to them, and a memorial service was held for those who lost their lives.

Speculation had run wild regarding the murder of the policemen, and Katie always smiled quietly to herself, knowing only one person in the world knew her involvement in killing one of them, and she's not talking. Maybe when she wrote her memoirs, or has her kids and grandkids gathered around her deathbed, she'll mention it. She was interested in learning Katsumi's style of hand-to-hand combat, but it's just as well she didn't ask anyway. She didn't have the time to go to Japan to learn anyway.

She heard the mail dropped through the mail slot of her apartment, and she walked over to collect it. Taking a break from writing, she sat at her dining room table to leaf through what she received. There were a few checks from various newspapers paying her for her column, a catalog or two, one bill, some advertisements, and an interesting looking letter, decorated in Japanese calligraphy, and addressed to her. Opening the envelope, she found a wedding invitation, a letter, and a check. Without thinking, she put the check aside with the others.

Reading the invitation, she smiled when she saw it was Katsumi who was getting married.

"She didn't tell me she was seeing anybody," she said out loud. Looking at the picture, she nodded with approval at the attractive catch her friend had made. She put that aside and picked up the letter.

It read:

Katie,

I wanted to again thank you for your help regarding my last assignment. I thought it was only fair that you should get half of what I received for that night.

I really hope you can attend my wedding; I'd love to see you there.

See you soon,

Katsumi

"Half of what she received?" Katie said, then she remembered the check she absentmindedly put aside. She picked it up, read the amount . . .

Then she fell out of her chair, and fainted.

Barry Fisher hung up the phone. No, he didn't want to run for public office; he just wanted to get rid of the system that was responsible for killing his little girl and other innocents whose only crime was caring for others.

The internal investigation revealed a police force that was responsible for killing his little girl and other innocents whose only crime was caring for others.

The internal investigation revealed a police force that was as rotten as an overripe fruit. Illegal payoffs, protection rackets, and police brutality were among the offenses that extended from the patrolmen to the supervisors. Even the police psychologist was involved. Seeing the writing on the wall, the police commissioner resigned before he could be disgraced any further.

The neighboring cites loaned their patrolmen to help out the few officers who were upstanding and not fired, suspended, or placed on desk duty awaiting investigation.

Barry stared out the window of his office. Katsumi was right about the oncoming firestorm that would hit the police department, and by extension the city. She had a good point, as quirky as it sounded. If a professional assassin didn't feel safe living in a city with corrupt policemen, then how secure was everybody else?

Per her instructions, as soon as the contents of the tape were played, Barry held press conferences questioning the integrity of the police force for having murderers on the force. That was all that was needed as others took up the baton and voiced their concerns. When it was revealed that the two cops victimized those they didn't kill, the event had a falling domino effect.

Fellow movers and shakers asked him to run for office to help clean up the city, but he refused. For one reason, he just considered himself a common businessman, selling discount items to the common man. Politicians tend to cater to the elite, and he had no desire to be with snobs. The second reason, even though it wasn't direct, was he did have blood on his hands. No matter how justified the reason was for executing his daughters killers, he was not going to use that as a stepping-stone to elevate his own interests. The third reason was he had better things to do, like contribute money to the organization his daughter was going to be involved with, and start a scholarship fund in her name. He also donated several water purification units as well.

Earlier that morning, his wife saw him smiling for the first time in a long while.

"What are you smiling about, dear?" She said.

"I just sent thousands of dollars in equipment to a country I've never seen, and I sent more money than that to an organization I've barely heard of. Money I know I won't be getting back, and I feel good about it," he said.

His wife hugged him and replied, "Yes, Doris would too."

As he stared out the window, for the second time that day, Barry Fisher smiled.

The investigation into the murders of officers Barnes and Smith were ongoing, though it led nowhere. No fingerprints were found, save for Barnes' prints on his gun. There were no witnesses, and the source of death was unusual. Smith, eyes red with mace, was choked to death by a chain still wrapped around his neck, while Barnes was simply beat to death, the final blow snapping his neck. CSI determined that the person who done it was rather proficient in martial arts. That however narrowed it down to many martial arts studios in the city, and ten times that many practitioners. That was providing the suspect in question attended those studios in the first place.

Another peculiarity was in the footprints found around the crime scene. Smith and Barnes' footprints were easy enough. There was a smaller footprint, apparently belonging to the alleged victim who managed to get away. However, there was a fourth footprint of someone barefoot on the scene.

As best as the experts could figure it, the cops had their latest victim, there was a struggle, then someone crazy enough to be barefoot in cold weather intervened and knocked off both policemen with their bare hands.

While everyone else scratched their heads, one of the CSI officers threw up his hands, and said, "I don't know, and who cares? These two perverts got what was coming to them, that's what I think."

The others nodded their heads and agreed.

On the shores of the island of Tonga, Katsumi and Alex were married. Despite the fact that neither of them had family, they did have a good number of friends who came. Remembering their professional protocol, those who knew of Katsumi's other career (mainly because they were in the business themselves) did not leave any hints to those who didn't know.

At the reception, Katie came up to Katsumi when she was alone for a moment.

"It is beautiful here," she said. "Will this be your new base of operations?"

"No, that life is forever behind me. I'm just a web page designer now. I'm glad you came, Katie," Katsumi replied.

"Not a problem, especially after the little "gift' I received with the invitation. After I regained consciousness, I booked my flight. Thank you very much."

"Well you did do half of the work, so it was only fair. The All Souls Kitchen should be receiving their gift in a day or two, so they should be happy when you return."

Katie looked out at the shore, where Alex was talking with a few of Katsumi's old classmates. "So you'll be a web page designer full-time, and Alex will be . . ."

"Alex will be starting his own business. Right now, I don't care if that business is in a hut selling sunglasses to tourists, so long as I am with him. I may start a school later and teach so my skills won't grow rusty."

"Yes, about that. Any chance I could learn a few moves?"

"I knew you'd ask me." Katsumi motioned for someone to come. Soon, a woman the same height as Katie, but who looked like she should belong to a Japanese accounting firm joined the two. She gave both of them a warm smile.

"Katie, this is Wren," Katsumi continued. "She had just finished her stint as a bodyguard. She felt she needed a break. I told her about what you do, and she would be more than delighted to work with you at the soup kitchen. You two will find you have a lot in common.

"Regarding your request in hand to hand combat, Wren is the most lethal woman I know. Back at school, even the biggest men feared her. She would be more than happy to teach you."

"I believe Katsumi exaggerates a little," Wren remarked. "Regardless, I am looking forward to visiting the states."

"Wren, you weren't around when I heard the men talk about sparring partners. In fact, everyone, myself included, was scared of you."

"And I thought they were afraid to hurt me."

Katie smiled. "Yes, thank you again; this should be fun. Katsumi, will you ever visit the states again?"

"Yes, of course. And please, feel free to come back here and visit as well. Just don't come during the next month."

Both women gave knowing smiles.

"Katsumi, you just married the man, don't burn him out," Wren said.

"She wants to make up for lost time," Katie objected.

"Such dirty minds!" Katsumi exclaimed, laughing.

"Dirty, nothing! If I married someone like that, I'd know what I'd do with him," Wren remarked.

"Then I will make sure to hide him when you come!"

All three laughed.

After all the guests had left, Alex and Katsumi stood on the deck of their new home, watching the sunset.

"Any regrets?" Alex asked.

"About marrying you? Never," Katsumi replied.

"No, about leaving the assassin business."

"In truth, I was beginning to grow weary of it. Yes, there's an excitement to it, and the money was good -"

"Very good," Alex joked.

"True, very good, but it kept me away from you. Any regrets?"

"That we didn't do this sooner. I was starting to feel like a mouse in a maze where I was. But there was one thing that was said to me that made me consider quitting."

Katsumi turned to Alex. "Really? What was it?" She asked.

"One of my bosses came before a group of us and said, "At this company, you'll need to give it your all to make it here. I've noticed some of you have the luxury of a relationship. However, you must be willing to put that aside to get ahead here.'

"When he said that, I was the only one there who was seeing somebody, and he knew that. He on the other hand just completed his second divorce, and his mistress quit her position and went home. I discovered I don't need to live like this, and especially under people who were jealous of me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because knowing you, you'd grab your katana or rush down to work and rip his head off with your bare hands."

"Oh Alex, you know me too well," Katsumi said as she leaned into his arms. "Can I go back and finish him?"

"No."

"It wouldn't take long."

"No."

"It would make a lot of people happy."

"It would, but no."

"Then I guess my past life is over."

"Woman, if you knew all the nights I spent worrying about you. You think I'm going to let you go now?"

Katsumi glanced at the setting sun. "Let's take a walk along the shore," she suggested.

"I thought we just walked along the shore."

"We did, but this time, I want to make up for all the nights I've worried about you. Grab a blanket, we're going to be there a long time."

*

If you have enjoyed this story, perhaps you may want to read other stories from the Barefoot Heroines collection. There are a variety of stories to choose from. They can be found at http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/mongoose/index.htm.

For any comments, suggestions, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.

#2010, Barefoot Heroines, Inc.