Jealous Storm, Jack Stroke [best sci fi novels of all time .txt] 📗

have waved hello. Blown him a kiss even. There is no chance he would recognise her. The guy barely had the IQ to tie his shoes.

To Amber’s left an emergency exit led to the exposed staircase. In front of her was the stage. To the right a door led to a small cupboard. Opening that door, she took the bomb from her purse and tossed it inside.

That gave her ten seconds.

3

No doubt the assembled mob wondered what this mysterious lady in red was doing exactly. No one challenged her though. Keeping casual, she closed the door of the cupboard and strode up on stage. Still, no one made any effort to stop her. In fact, Cronk extended his hand to help her up the stairs. What a gentleman.

The auctioneer paused, confused by the unexpected intrusion. Was this part of the event? If so, no one had informed him. He glanced at Cronk, who shrugged. Amber reached for the microphone flashing a generous smile. The auctioneer looked for someone to instruct him on what to do. No one seemed to know. It was rare for a person to stroll up on stage in the middle of the auction and demand the microphone. So he handed it over.

Amber nodded her thanks.

Holding it up to her mouth she screamed: “Death to tyrants!”

‘Death to tyrants’ didn’t have any particular significance. It’s a rough translation of what John Wilkes Booth supposedly yelled when assassinating Lincoln. Translation because he yelled in Latin. Amber yelled it to get people’s attention and because it seemed as good as anything (and the Latin would have just confused this crowd).

As she did, she grabbed Cronk’s framed sports jersey. And she was away.

Well-timed. The smoke bomb went off in the cupboard with a subdued pop.

All good, except unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, adrenaline kicked in and she did something stupid. She leapt from the stage. Jumping in such extravagant heels is never a good idea, especially from a stage. As she came down, she twisted her ankle. Not too badly. Sure made it challenging to run though, especially in those bright red pumps.

The initial reaction was one of confusion. A few guests stood. One or two yelled. The jersey enthusiasts. Everyone watched dumbfounded. Even security, who were slow to respond. Amber made it to the emergency exit well before them.

However, despite the head start and security caught on their heels, running away was doomed from the start.

Worse now that she couldn’t run thanks to the ankle.

4

All Diamond Logistic agents are well-practised in the art of being seen when required and invisible where necessary. But the area where Mother’s agents excel is the ability to morph between the two, like flicking a light switch.

Out in the open air, Amber tossed Cronk’s framed sports jersey over the edge, where it fell to its demise several floors below. She ripped off her dress and wig in one motion. As the shoes and purse disappeared, she became someone else in the blink of an eye. The tall redhead in the eye-catching dress replaced by an average-size waitress.

Security piled out the emergency exit with Cronk in tow. They dashed by Amber, not even giving her a second thought. Wait staff are generally invisible anyway. They weren’t interested in some waitress or what she might’ve been doing out on the fire escape; they were after the tall red-haired woman in a red dress carrying a framed sport’s jersey.

Inside, smoke flicked through the door by the stage. Not filling the room, but enough to cause concern. The crowd shuffled to the exit in a mostly orderly fashion.

The pain in Amber’s ankle made walking normally more challenging than usual. Slipping back in unnoticed, she navigated her way along the wall towards the main exit. She waited until she spotted Gomez coming towards her. It was important to be a little bit careful now. She looked more like herself. It was possible Gomez or Ralph might recognise her. Possibly but unlikely. They had only met her that one time and wouldn’t be on the lookout for a rogue waitress.

As the crowd pressed forward, Amber moved the other direction. Fighting a sea of bodies, she positioned herself in front of Gomez. Head down, she bumped into him lightly. He didn’t look at her, half shoving Amber aside, no clue she had planted the tracking device in his pocket. Mission accomplished. Too easy. The tracker was small and sticky. In the unlikely event he did find it, he would think it was a quality control sticker that occasionally turn up in garments.

Rather than leave like everybody else, Amber made her way further into the building, unaware she was being watched.

It was a pretty good plan. Of course, security would quickly find the discarded wig and dress. By then, the evacuation would be in full swing. Even if they realised Amber had been the waitress on the stairs, the assumption would be she was long gone. Exiting with the crowd. Instead, Amber chose to wait things out in an upstairs office. This was the part Mother wasn’t too keen on. She wanted a clean getaway. Fair enough, although considering the ankle, it was not a possibility now.

Up in the boardroom, Amber settled into a leather chair. She figured she would have to wait an hour. Maybe two. One or two hours with no human contact. As such the boardroom door opening behind her gave her a real fright

“Well, well, well…”

Amber turned. Ralph stood between her and the exit, no way by his imposing bulk.

“If it isn’t the barefoot waitress.”

5

“Hi, Ralph,” Amber said, keeping her voice casual. “Gave me a fright. All the action is downstairs. What are you doing up here?”

Ralph smirked, extremely pleased with himself. “Just following some stupid waitress.”

This could be problematic. As good a fighter as Amber was, Ralph was a big boy. She had bested him once, in Gomez’s hotel room. This time he would be ready. Amber did her best to control her