Virus!

Virus!

MI-5 Operatives Aston and Summerfield find themselves forced to stop a deadly virus from getting into the  Spywrong hands.

 

MI-5 Operative Thomas Aston straightened his Tuxedo. His short dark hair perfectly combed in place. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

He glanced at his partner Melanie Summerfield, she looked ravishing, her blond hair swept up in curls, her blue eyes sparkling. Her red lipstick matched her red evening dress.

“Not our typical look.” Melanie said, laughing “No guns?”

“Remember we’re only gathering information for MI-5,” Thomas growled.

“I know, a deadly virus, and all that.” She frowned. “Trafficking drugs for a deadly virus. What will these people do next?”

“Just keep in mind, you can die in minutes if you ingest it.”

“Got it! Don’t eat the virus. I don’t understand why the Sinaloa cartel is using a Presidential Ball for the exchange. How are they disguising the virus?”

“Hope we don’t find out the hard way.” Thomas shrugged.

Later that evening, Thomas and Melanie arrived at the royal palace. As they entered the ballroom, the opulence was unbelievable. Every object that could be gilded was covered with gold. An orchestra played softly, voices filled the room.

Guests danced. Then loaded their plates from the buffet table. The ball was fully underway when the music stopped. The musicians were staring at the entrance. Gasps were heard as heads turned.

Two men stood with automatic weapons scanning the room. Melanie recognized Lars Benedict immediately. A cold-blooded assassin. He ran his hand thru his dirty blond hair waving his gun around the ballroom.

“Where’s the virus?” Benedict yelled striding toward President LaGrange. “Tell me, or you die.”

The President stared at him. Lars smiled. He pulled the trigger splattering LaGrange’s brains against the wall. Screams of disbelief echoed.

Melanie grabbed silverware off the buffet table and threw it at the two men as Thomas slipped out a window. Benedict glared at her. Melanie sucked in her breath.

“A little spitfire.” Benedict snarled. “Bull shoot her,” he told the other gunman.

The room went deathly quiet as Bull walked toward her. Melanie’s stomach clenched. She stepped back, her heart racing.

I’m going to die here, she thought, in this shithole ballroom in the middle of Argentina.

A massive bolt of lightning crashed outside shaking the windows. Thunder followed, loud and ominous. Trees whipped and bent in the wind. Rain cascaded. The roar was deafening. The lights flickered and went out, plunging the ballroom into complete darkness.

Screams filled the air, then gunshots as the two thugs tried to re-establish order. Guests began to run and shove each other turning over tables and chairs trying to get out the doors.

I’ve got to find a weapon, Melanie thought, it’s my only chance to stop them.

She dropped to the floor and crawled thru the overturned tables.

“Damn it,” she swore as a large woman stumbled over her and landed flat on her face screaming. A man scrambled to pull them both up. Melanie jerked her arm away. She slipped under the buffet table cursing her dress. Crawling the length of the table, she peered out. She was 5 feet from the two men now. They stood with their backs toward to her. She could see them during the lightning flashes.

Crawling back along the table Melanie silently edged up behind the carving station. She spied a carving knife and smelled the blood oozing from a rare prime rib. She grabbed the knife, tucking it under the fold of her evening dress. She kicked off her heels and started to drop back down under the table.

Wait. What was a bowl of fruit doing at this end of the table? She hesitated.

Instinctively she reached over and grabbed one of the apples. It was light and hard. Something rattled inside the fake apple.

Her eyes widened. “The virus! Oh dear lord, no.” she whispered. “They hid the virus inside the fake fruit. I can’t let them find it.”

A large hand grabbed her arm jerking her out from behind the table. Bull was dragging her toward him, he didn’t see the knife.

His eyes popped out as she plunged it deep into his neck. Blood sprayed her face and hands with every beat of his heart. She watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, his body convulsing. Blood dripped off her hand, down her arm.

Melanie turned to run. Lars grabbed her by the hair flinging her to the floor. He kicked her violently in the ribs. Struggling to stand, she faced him, the knife still in her hand with the blood dripping from it.

He swung the butt of his gun and hit her across the cheek knocking her off her feet. The knife clattered to the floor.

Lars clutched her ankle, dragging her toward the door. “I’m going to make your death long and painful.” He snarled.

Melanie kicked out with her feet catching Lars knee. He howled in pain. She kicked free and struggled to her feet. He sprang at her knocking her down and landing on top of her. He hit her hard, her head jerking from the impact. She felt the blood run down her face.

Help me I don’t want to die, she screamed silently.

Lars rolled off her jerking her up and flinging her against the buffet table.

She tried to lessen the impact by reaching out. Her hand landed on a piece of fake fruit. Seizing it, she charged at Lars slamming it into his face.

Lars grabbed the smashed fruit. He grimaced at the acidic smell and taste.

“What the—?” he looked at it. Tiny shards of glass from a broken vial gleamed in his hand. His mouth was burning. Lars grabbed for his throat choking for breath. He shoved his gun in her face.

Melanie closed her eyes cringing, waiting. Nothing happened. There was only silence.

“Melanie, you’re safe” She heard Thomas whisper.

She opened her eyes. Thomas stood in front of her as Policemen cleared the ballroom around them.

“About time mate!” she sighed leaning against him.