
"Get back in your offices," Jishin shouted.
A fat balding man stepped out in front of the striding terrorist.
"What's this all about?" he demanded.
"Just do as you're told," Jishin ordered.
The man did not move.
"I demand an immediate answer."
Jishin had been forced to come to a halt by the fat form blocking her way.
"What do you do here that you can demand anything?" Jishin countered in her hoarse voice.
The man grinned in the knowledge of his own power. "I'm the vice-president and the comptroller here. And who do you think you are?"
"Then you aren't a researcher?"
"You seem slow to get the message."
"Then we don't need you," Jishin told him. Her fists blurred and the fat man screamed.
For a moment the only sound that could be heard in the corridor was the whack, whack, whack of fists smashing meat. The vice-president and comptroller slid down the wall, leaving a streak of red. He died in a large heap on the floor.
Doors slammed. Jishin was alone in the corridor, except for the three terrorists who had followed her into the reception room.
"Go down this hall," she told them. "If the person is a researcher, leave him for me, if not kill him. Move."
They moved, grinning in anticipation of more targets for their weapons.
Shots sounded from another portion of the building.
"George," Jishin commanded, "tell those trigger-happy slobs to wait until you've sorted them before they start shooting people who don't resist."
George lowered his shotgun and went to obey orders. He was clearly irked that he had to put aside his work to straighten out the amateurs.
"Don't you two start without me," he barked at his fellow jackals.
The door at the end of corridor three was locked. Jishin used a front kick to smash the catch. The door swung back with so much force that the knob smashed the plaster wall. A diminutive Oriental woman looked up from one of the electronics workbenches. She seemed more curious than startled. Jishin tried to place the country of origin, but could not. The small woman looked Vietnamese.
