Read Online London Twist: A Delilah Novella by Barry Eisler - Free Book Online

target of opportunity presented itself. An overreaction? She didn’t think so. A man’s natural ally was his upper body strength. To counter it, she had speed, surprise, and violence of action. A man’s strategy was attrition. Hers was blitzkrieg. In a drawn-out confrontation, a man could press his advantages and negate hers. She wouldn’t allow that. If she had to err, she knew which side to err on.
    But then she would have to explain herself to Fatima. And regardless of what Fatima herself might make of Delilah’s capability with violence, her people would have their own views, probably ones fatal to the op itself.
    So she said nothing—in her judgment, the lesser of the two available evils. Fatima, less savvy, said, “What can’t you figure out?”, her tone dripping with derision.
    It was a stupid move, though Delilah didn’t blame Fatima for not knowing better. In a confrontation, you don’t insult, you don’t challenge, you don’t deny it’s happening. And you always leave your adversary a face-saving exit. If he takes it, great; if he doesn’t, you act. But blustering en route serves only to engage the other person’s temper and his ego, while impeding your own opportunities for surprise. Fatima, whatever her involvement in her brother’s network, wasn’t trained, and she wasn’t experienced.
    The two men stopped, so close Delilah could have hit one with a stomp to the instep and the other with a knee to the groin. The shorter one said, “What you’re doing out alone, the two of you. This is what we can’t figure out.”
    Fatima laughed contemptuously. “Alone, the two of us? Here, let me ask you the same thing. What are the two of you doing out alone? Did your parents not notice you sneaking out of your bedrooms?”
    They both reddened and the shorter one’s eyes narrowed. Delilah admired Fatima for her brass, but bluff was dangerous if you couldn’t back it up.
    “You know what I think?” the shorter one said. “I think you’re two whores looking for cock.”
    “Whores don’t look for cock,” Fatima said. “They look for money. Although I doubt the two of you could help with either.”
    The taller one grabbed Fatima roughly by the elbow. “I’ll show you what we can help with.”
    “Let go,” Fatima said, and Delilah, hearing the sudden fear in her voice, knew the woman was at the end of her bluff. Turning slightly to conceal the move, she slid the second and third fingers of her right hand into the ring at the end of the Hideaway. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t use a knife to threaten—she would use it to cut. But to the extent possible, she had to stay in character. A civilian might carry a knife for self-protection. But a civilian wouldn’t use it readily, or well.
    “Let her go,” Delilah said, her tone deliberately calm and commanding.
    “Or what?” the shorter one said with a sneer.
    Hating to do it, Delilah held up her right fist, the razor-sharp talon clearly visible now. “Or I’ll slice you open and watch your guts spill onto the sidewalk.” She kept her left side forward and dropped her knife hand close to her ribcage. If he tried to grab for it, she could tie up his arms with her free hand and attack his balls and his belly with the blade.
    The taller one looked to his friend for reassurance. But his grip on Fatima’s arm didn’t slacken.
    There was a blur of movement to their right. Two more dark-skinned men, heading toward them from around the side of Momtaz. Delilah felt another adrenaline surge, but then immediately realized from the stealth and speed of the approach that she and Fatima weren’t the targets. And indeed, as she oriented on the two approaching men, she saw their focus was entirely on the two assailants, not the intended victims.
    The shorter guy must have read something in Delilah’s expression, in the momentary direction of her gaze. He started to turn, but the first of the approaching men had already closed the distance. As the man moved in,