The Spirit Banner by Alex Archer

headed for the room at the end of the hall at a fast walk, doing her best to be as quiet as possible.

She'd made it about halfway there when the door at the end opened and a man clad in dark clothing stepped out. His back was partially turned as he listened to instructions given by someone still inside the room, but Annja could clearly see the automatic weapon he carried.

The closest door was behind her and to her left. He'd see her long before she could reverse course, get it open and slip inside.

There was nowhere else for her to go but forward.

Annja knew that at any second he was going to turn around and see her coming toward him down the hallway. If that happened she was as good as dead; it wouldn't take much to bring that weapon in line and gun her down in her tracks.

She had to reach him first.

All this flashed through her mind in the space of a heartbeat and then she was rushing down the corridor toward the intruder as fast as she could go move. Picturing her sword in her mind, she reached into the otherwhere, wrapped her hand around its hilt and drew it forth.

Unfortunately for Annja, she didn't make it.

She was still a dozen or so steps away when the intruder closed the door and turned in her direction. His surprise at seeing someone charging down the hall toward him brandishing a sword didn't stop his training from taking over. The look of shock was still on his face when he swung his gun around and fired from the hip.

11

    Faced with certain death, Annja did the only thing she could. Like a runner going for second base, she dropped into a slide, legs extended, sword held in a striking position, using her own momentum and the highly polished wooden floor to carry her closer to her target.

The move took her opponent by surprise and she slid under his line of fire, bullets streaming past over her head, and then she was up close, right there at his feet, surging to her knees, her sword thrust upward with all the momentum gained in her rush down the hall.

The gunman never stood a chance.

The blade caught him low in the gut, just under the edge of the Kevlar vest he was wearing, and rammed him back against the door, pinning him in place.

He stared at her in disbelief, looked down at the two feet of steel sticking out of his gut, then died without saying a word.

Rather than trying to pull her sword free, Annja simply released it into the otherwhere.

The gunman's body dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

In the silence that followed, a voice called her name softly.

Annja turned.

The bullets had missed her, but that didn't mean that they hadn't found a target. John Davenport was kneeling in the middle of the hallway, cradling the badly wounded body of his security agent, the other man's neck stained a deep crimson hue.

Annja met Davenport's gaze. The slight shake of his head said it all; there was nothing they could do. The man in Davenport's arms sucked in a last breath, stared beseechingly at Annja and then joined his killer in death.

A loud crash from the other side of the door pulled Annja's gaze away from the duo.

Get the journal. At least make his death count for something, she thought.

She had to get inside that room.

As far as tactical situations go, it wasn't the best. She had no idea how many men were waiting for her on the other side of the door, nor how they were armed. She was going to have to trust that her instincts and her speed were going to be enough.

She pictured the room in her mind, noting the position of the furniture as it had stood when she'd been working there earlier, paying attention to what might provide adequate cover and what would not. When she was ready, she took a couple deep breaths to draw as much oxygen into her bloodstream as possible, drew back her right leg and kicked out with all her strength.

The door swung open. As it did she dove through the gap, tucking herself into a roll the second her hands touched the floor and letting her momentum carry her several