Free Body Surfing by Dale Peck

transport—it didn’t set off the metal detectors at airports. Like the watch, it had been Alec’s, but unlike the watch, he had given it to her when he was still alive.
    The sound of distant sirens snapped her from her thoughts.
    She went to the balcony and peered through the curtains. Two, no, three Sudanese police vehicles squealed to a halt in front of the hotel. It seemed unlikely some other disturbance had brought them here. But how had they discovered Soma’s body so quickly?
    Ileana stepped back from the balcony. She hurried to the door, cracked it open. The main stairs led to the lobby, but there were fire exits at either end of the hall. As she trotted toward the one on the right, she could hear booted feet on the tiled floors downstairs. There were shouts and cries as guests were confronted by the police.
    She reached the stairwell, eased the door open. A pair of uniformed officers were guarding the lower exit. One of them glanced up and started shouting. She jerked back as a hail of bullets ripped through the plaster over her head.
    She ducked back into the hallway. She could hear the police galloping upstairs. She ran down the hall to the other fire exit. Just as she was about to duck through the door, a guest came into the hallway in his bathrobe and slippers. His eyes went wide as he saw Ileana running toward him.
    “Sorry about this.”
    “Pardon —?”
    Ileana took him down with an elbow to the jaw. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. She pulled him through the stairwell door and wedged his bulk against it.
    “A piece of advice,” she said to the unconscious body. “Next time you hear gunshots, head the other way.”
    She ducked through the far door. The first three rooms were locked but the fourth was open. She slipped inside. She had only a minute or two before the police got the stairwell open. Then, when she whirled around to scan the room, she realized her minutes had been reduced to seconds.
    A man and a woman lay on the bed, naked, their mouths already open.
    Instinct took over. She reached beneath her skirt and pulled the knife from its garter. She didn’t speak, just put the index finger of her free hand to her lips.
    The couple stared at her in terror. The man pulled the sheet up to cover his companion’s breasts—a touching gesture, considering the dainty little whip and neatly stacked pile of cash on the dresser.
    Ileana went to the balcony. The alley appeared to be deserted, but it was still a fifteen-foot drop, and she wasn’t Mogran. She couldn’t keep flooding her body with hormones without expecting to pay a price.
    Someone—the man or the woman—let out a low moan.
    “Quiet! Just be quiet and no one will get hurt. Do you understand?”
    The couple stared at her blankly, their mouths open as if they were screaming but someone had muted the volume.
    Ileana gauged the distance, wondering if she could jump to the next building. Probably not from a standing position, but if she got a running start…
    Just as she turned to assess the length of the room someone began pounding on the door.
    “Shorta!” the man and woman began shouting in chorus. “Police! Help!”
    Ileana tossed her bag to the street and vaulted over the railing after it. She landed hard but managed to tuck into a roll. She heard her knife clatter across the alleyway, wasted precious seconds groping through the gravel until her fingers locked onto the leather handle. A sentimental accoutrement. But Alec had given it to her.
    She grabbed her bag and ran for the far end of the alley. She could feel her system overloading. If she didn’t stop soon, she was going to pass out—if her heart didn’t simply burst. She gritted her teeth and ran.
    “Tawaqqafa! Stop! Stop!” Shots rang out. She was so high on endorphins she didn’t think she’d know if she’d been hit. Her legs continued pumping, so she assumed she was fine.
    She was nearly out of the alley when a vehicle screeched to a stop, blocking the exit.