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993 Words
"You’re checking it again."
Sarah’s voice cut through the candlelit haze of Luigi’s. She was swirling a glass of red wine, watching him over the rim.
Noah froze, his finger hovering over the face of his watch.
"Checking what?" he asked, forcing his hand down to the tablecloth.
"Your watch. That’s the fourth time in ten minutes." She raised an eyebrow. "Am I boring you, Mr. Vance? Or do you have a hot date with a stack of periodicals?"
"No! No, of course not," Noah stammered. He knocked his fork off the table. CLATTER. "I just... I’m worried about the risotto. You know how I get when my blood sugar drops."
"You get hangry," Sarah said, smiling. "Relax. The waiter is coming."
Noah glanced at the kitchen doors.
[TEXT FROM: JINX]
Target is moving. The container leaves the dock in 18 minutes. If it gets on that ship, those kids are gone.
Eighteen minutes.
The docks were six blocks away. Three minutes to run. Six minutes to clear the guards. Three minutes to sabotage the lock. Three minutes back.
That left him three minutes of margin.
"I’ll be right back," Noah said, standing up a little too fast. "Bathroom. Nature calls."
Sarah sighed, leaning back in the booth. "Don't get lost on the way, babe."
"I have a terrible sense of direction," he muttered.
.....
The men’s room was empty.
Noah bolted the door. He didn't look in the mirror. He knew what he’d see: a panicked husband.
He needed the Ronin.
He ripped off his blazer and jammed it behind the toilet tank. He pushed the window open. It was a tight squeeze, barely twelve inches wide.
SCREECH.
He vaulted through, landing in the alley with a soft THUD.
The cool night air hit him. His posture changed instantly. The slouch vanished. His spine straightened. He took a breath, holding it for four seconds, then released it.
He wasn't Noah anymore.
He sprinted.
He didn't take the sidewalk. He took the fire escapes. He moved like smoke, vaulting over AC units and swinging around brick corners. The city was a grid, and he was the glitch running through it.
TIME ELAPSED: 04:00
......
The docks were a graveyard of rusted metal and sea salt.
Fog clung to the ground. Noah crouched on top of a stack of crates, scanning the yard.
There it was. Container 409.
Two guards patrolled the front. They held submachine guns, lazy and bored.
Noah dropped.
He didn't make a sound. He landed behind the first guard. A quick pinch to the carotid artery.
THUMP.
The guard folded.
The second guard turned. "Hey, did you hear—"
Noah was already there. He struck the man’s solar plexus, then the throat. The guard gasped, choking on air, and collapsed.
TIME ELAPSED: 07:00
Noah moved to the container doors. He pulled a specialized jamming tool from his pocket—a library 3D printer creation.
He was about to jam the locking mechanism when a shadow detached itself from the darkness.
The Enforcer.
He was huge, a slab of muscle in a leather trench coat. He held a combat knife that looked more like a machete.
"You're not on the manifest," the Enforcer grunted.
He swung.
SWISH.
Noah dodged, the blade missing his nose by an inch. He couldn't shoot. Gunshots would bring the cops. It had to be hand-to-hand.
The Enforcer lunged again. Noah sidestepped, grabbing the man’s wrist. He used the momentum to slam the giant into the container wall.
BANG.
The Enforcer growled and slashed backward.
Pain flared in Noah’s side. A line of fire across his ribs.
He gritted his teeth, ignoring the wet warmth spreading under his shirt. He swept the Enforcer's leg and delivered a heel kick to the temple.
The man went down and stayed down.
TIME ELAPSED: 11:00
Noah ignored the pain. He jammed the tool into the container lock. Sparks flew. The mechanism ground to a halt.
CLUNK.
Sealed. That container wasn't going anywhere tonight. The police would find it in the morning. Sarah would find the children.
He checked his watch.
TIME ELAPSED: 13:00
"Shi—"
He turned and ran.
....
The alley behind Luigi’s.
Noah hit the pavement, gasping for air. He checked the window. Still open.
He scrambled up the dumpster and shimmied back inside.
THUD.
He landed on the bathroom tile.
He looked in the mirror. His hair was windblown. His face was flushed.
He grabbed his blazer from behind the tank, throwing it on. He ran water over his hands, splashing his face to hide the sweat.
He took a deep breath.
In: The Ronin.
Out: The Husband.
He unlocked the door and walked back into the dining room.
Sarah was just looking up from her phone. A waiter was placing a steaming plate of risotto on the table.
"You missed the appetizer," Sarah said, eyeing him. "Everything okay?"
Noah slid into the booth. He winced as his side brushed the leather.
"Yeah," he wheezed. "Just... the sink. The floor was wet. I slipped and bumped my hip. Total slapstick moment."
He picked up his fork. His hand was shaking, and this time, it wasn't an act. The adrenaline crash was hitting him hard.
"You need to be more careful," Sarah said, her voice softening. "You're going to break a bone one of these days."
She reached across the table. Her hand rested on his side, right over his ribcage.
Right over the cut.
Noah bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. "I'm okay, really. Just a bruise."
"You're sweating," Sarah said. She frowned. "And you're pale."
"It's the heat in here. The kitchen..."
Sarah’s eyes drifted down.
She stopped.
Her hand was resting on his white dress shirt. But where her fingers touched his side, the fabric wasn't white anymore.
A dark, red stain was blooming against the cotton, spreading fast.
"Noah," Sarah whispered, her eyes widening in horror. "You're bleeding."
- Writer
