The White Vixen Read Online Free Page B

on her abdomen, the center of all movement. She had entered a state of mushin, a sense of mind/no mind, allowing her to react and move almost literally without thought.
    “I doubt it,” Jo said as Lu’s right hand grasped the edge of her scarf. She reached up with her left hand, covering Lu’s and pinning it down onto her head. With her right, still protecting the dart, she pushed up into his right elbow, thumb finding the nerve and squeezing, pushing up as she moved her body fluidly underneath Lu’s arm, stepping behind him and then bringing his arm up into a gooseneck hold. Lu gasped in pain and surprise, from the pain in his arm and then in his neck as Jo released his elbow long enough to drive the dart into the right side of his throat. Her entire movement took less than one and a half seconds. The drug carried by the dart began flowing through the sergeant’s neck, reaching the carotid artery in moments. Lu tried to yell, but the rapid closure of his windpipe only allowed a near-silent rasp. Two seconds later, the drug reached his brain and his eyes rolled backward.
    Jo caught him as he collapsed and moved him quickly to the cot, laying the unconscious body out carefully. It took her only two minutes to strip off the uniform and shoes. Probably too small for Jamison, but they’ll have to do. She turned the sergeant onto his left side, facing the wall, and covered him with the blanket.
    She removed Lu’s pistol and k ey ring from the gun belt and hid the belt and shoes in a nearby bucket, stuffing the uniform on top of them. Putting her coat back on, she tucked the gun into the waistband of her trousers at the small of her back. The keys went into a coat pocket. She checked her right sleeve; the second dart was still in place. Grabbing the mop, she went quickly to the doorway, surveyed the room one last time, and switched off the light.
    She had just shut the door behind her when the corporal from the front desk came down the hall. “Where is Sergeant Lu?”
    Back in her servant’s posture, Jo Ann bowed to the soldier, no more than a boy himself. “The sergeant is...resting,” she said.
    “Ah, so,” the man said.
    “He asked me to clean the empty cell before I leave.”
    “Very well,” the private said, with a last knowing glance at the closed door of the storeroom. Then he turned and walked back to his desk.
    Letting out her breath carefully, Jo shuffled down the hall and found the cellblock entrance quickly. The guard didn’t come to attention this time, but she noticed his grip tighten ever so slightly on his rifle. Jo would have to time this carefully. She bowed to the guard. “Honorable sir, Sergeant Lu ordered me to clean the empty cell.”
    The guard was older than the corporal, and smarter. He took out his keys, but then leaned over slightly and looked in the bucket. Jo had shoved the uniform down as far as she could, but it wasn’t a very deep bucket, and the guard’s eyes widened as he realized there certainly was no water inside. He dropped the key ring and took a quick step back, bringing his rifle around as he moved.
    Jo was just a bit quicker. The dart from her right sleeve was out and moving fast, but instead of embedding itself in the guard’s neck it merely grazed the skin. The guard yelped at the bite of the dart, but he was experienced enough to keep moving backward, allowing room to bring his rifle to bear.
    The broom handle became Jo’s best weapon now, and in one swift motion she used it, knowing that split seconds counted now. Her first target was the guard’s right arm, the one holding the rifle, and her hard strike was right on the money, impacting on the area containing the nerve. Her survival, and Jamison’s, now depended on her not allowing the guard to fire a shot, even as a reflex action. The nerve strike worked; the guard cried out, but his hand suddenly became useless, the fingers unable to find the trigger.
    The gun was falling to the floor as Jo struck again,