Free The Libra Affair by Daco

“I’m just five rows up from here, on the left,” and she took his hand from her waist and pointed it in the correct direction so he understood. She didn’t want him guessing which way was left — coming or going — not at a time like this.
    â€œOkay,” he said.
    â€œBen, listen to me, it’s the aisle seat. A couple of elderly sisters are sitting next to me. They don’t speak English so don’t engage them. You’ll offend them if you do. They won’t be accustomed to speaking with men, especially Westerners. You get me?”
    â€œOh, sure,” he replied.
    â€œBen, I’m serious. You’re in hostile territory. You don’t want to make any kind of stink. It’s too easy to get arrested in this country.”
    â€œI’m cool.”
    She gave him a hard look. “Seriously. I mean it.”
    â€œOkay, I get it. There’s only one woman I’m interested in talking to.” And on a lighter note, he asked, “So tell me, what’s the deal with the dress?”
    â€œWe’ll talk about that later.”
    He winked at her.
    â€œYou know,” she said, “if you weren’t so cute, I never would have gone out with you.”
    â€œI am kind of cute.” He reached for her waist.
    â€œCute and a whole lot of something else.” She paused to listen. “Okay, it’s time to move. You go first this time. Make it quick. Oh, and you don’t know me. Are we clear?”
    â€œYour husband’s not on this flight, is he?” He grinned with a lopsided smile.
    She socked his shoulder.
    â€œOuch, woman,” he rubbed his arm, “you sure can hang a left.”
    â€œJust play along and I’ll make real good on that little promise, okay? Now get up.”
    Jordan cracked open the door. The coast was clear. She hopped back and stood on the commode. “Go.” She nudged him forward.
    As soon as Ben started down the aisle, the door to the bathroom across the aisle slowly slid open. The man Jordan saw earlier stood in the opening, he was watching to see where Ben would stop.
    She detailed the stranger up and down: Iranian, undercover agent, packing. His jugular pulsed hard and rapidly, his eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened, and as soon as the man ran a hand across the weapon in his jacket, that was enough to set her in action. She had to stop him.
    She glanced in both directions. Still clear.
    She lifted her dress, jerked open the door, sprang out of the stall, and planted a foot in the man’s groin.
    The man fell backwards exactly as anticipated, landing on the open commode. Before he lifted his head, Jordan powered in, took him by the neck, and made the break. He was dead before she said goodbye. Hopping back into the aisle, she released the door. It started to slide shut. Only it didn’t close all the way. A foot hung out the door.
    Ben looked back as he reached his chair.
    Reacting instantaneously, Jordan stepped over the foot to conceal it with length of her dress.
    He gave her a sly smile as though playing along with some phony-baloney game. In return, she produced a slight wave and waited for him to take his seat. Then she shoved the dead man’s foot back inside the stall, hopped inside the room with the body, and began patting down the man’s clothes. She found his weapon first, checked the safety and the ammo, and secured it underneath her dress next to her own weapon. Next, she located his wallet and took the cash. Feeling quickly, she found his passport and identification badge in another pocket.
    Every instinct was right on; he was hostile secret service. She found his phone and quickly scrolled through the incoming calls. She was set. Shoving his leg to the side, she stuffed the man’s wallet along with his ID, badge, and cell phone between his legs and into the commode, then flushed.
    Back in the aisle, she pushed up a sleeve and checked her wristwatch. The flight wasn’t