Magic Lantern (Rogue Angel) Read Free Page B

to have to talk to you later.” She unclipped the Bluetooth earpiece and shoved it into her pocket. Annja was calm as she surveyed the scene. Her heart went out to the frightened young woman.
An older man in a suit raced through the back door and quickly stopped when he saw the gunmen. “Laurel.”
“Get back, old man.” One of the youths took a step forward and pointed the gun at the businessman.
“Please. You have the money. Don’t take my daughter.”
The youth opened fire. Annja didn’t know if he was trying to hit the man or not, but one of the bullets chewed into the door and the other went through the doorway.
The man dropped to the ground, covered his head with his arms and screamed for his daughter.
“Papa!” The young woman cried out in fear and tried to free herself. One of the men not holding her backhanded her across the face.
“Hey!” Igor’s loud voice thundered in the alley. “You blokes want to put the guns down before you get hurt?”
Glancing back, Annja saw that Igor had a gun in his own hand instead of the camera now. He stood holding the revolver like he knew what to do. Unfortunately, so did the three Asians. Two of them opened fire while the third hung on to their hostage.
Annja pressed herself flat against a building.
The bullets drove Igor back into cover. He rose up just long enough to fire two rounds. Both bullets went wild, and one of them came dangerously close to Annja.
In the next moment, a car roared into the alley behind Igor. The bright lights pinned him for a moment as he threw up a hand in front of his eyes. He stepped aside, but the driver opened the door and hit the bodyguard hard enough to bounce him off a brick wall. Igor rolled and dropped as the car roared by.
The driver brought the car to a rocking halt only a few feet from the three men. They opened the doors on the passenger’s side and started to get in with their captive.
Annja sprang for the driver, shoved a hand into the car and caught the man by the jacket front. She yanked hard and the man’s head cracked against the window’s edge. The driver’s eyes rolled up and showed white just before he slumped across the steering wheel. His foot pressed against the accelerator and the car sped forward before the others could climb in.
Reaching into the otherwhere that contained her sword, Annja drew the blade into the physical world. Moonlight glinted along the three-foot-plus polished steel blade. The hilt was plain, unadorned, wrapped in leather strips, and it felt completely at home in Annja’s hand. The sword had been forged for Joan of Arc and only the one destined to take up Joan’s crusade could wield it.
Annja shot forward as the car passed, and she knew she was moving too fast for the men to track. To them it would have looked like she’d appeared out of nowhere. She drove a double-fisted blow into the face of the man on the right. Propelled by the great strength she had when she wielded the sword, the man sailed backward and thudded against crates of trash. Rotted vegetables and refuse tumbled over him. Rats scattered and ran.
Whirling, Annja lashed out with the sword as the man holding the money took aim at her. Beyond him, the out-of-control car rammed into a streetlight, shuddered and died with an explosive release of steam. Her blade caught the man’s pistol as he lifted it, and drove it from his grip. She took two quick side steps forward, then raised her right leg and drove her foot into his face.
He went down in a loose jumble of flesh and blood, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Still holding his hostage, the third robber fired again and again.
Annja ducked and went low. She shoved her left leg out and swept the legs of the man and his hostage from the ground. As they fell backward, the man kept firing, wildly spraying the stone walls on either side of the alley. Trapped between the buildings, the sharp reports rolled like thunder.
She swung the sword at the gun and knocked the weapon from the