the incompetent spy

Here's an excerpt from the novel-in-progress, just for fun. (It's a first draft, so please do not judge too harshly.)

She saw another waiter striding down the hotel hall toward her and tried not to panic. Just act like you’re supposed to be here, she told herself, and he won’t question it. As the waiter got closer she made sure to keep her back straight and her head up. She looked him right in the eye as he passed and was surprised by their color: an intense blue that was at odds with his jet-black hair. Perhaps he dyed his hair? No time to think about that now, Tiger! Keep your eye on the prize! The blue-eyed waiter nodded as he passed and…was that a smirk? Shit, did she have a booger hanging out of her nose or something? She checked, just to be sure, but felt nothing. Oh well. She would worry about that later. Right now she had a job to do.

She had arrived at the room before she knew it. She stood staring glossily at the brassy numbers affixed to the white door for a moment: 214. She took a deep breath, lifting her right hand to knock as her left hand moved into her pocket for the gun, but then she noticed that the door wasn’t completely shut. She glanced quickly behind her to assure herself that the coast was clear, took the gun out of her pocket and cautiously toed the door open. The entrance to the suite was empty, but no sooner had she peered around the corner into the living room than the swearing started.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she said. “What the fuck…” Three men lay dead on the floor, their throats slashed, pools of blood soaking into the cream colored carpet. The boss, the one she had come to kill, was lying face down in the doorway, his legs in the living room and his oversized torso in the bedroom. His throat too was slashed. “Goddammit! Now how the fuck am I gonna get paid?” She kicked the nearest body a few times in the gut out of anger and frustration. Then she was over it and trying to figure out how much time she had before someone came through the door and saw her standing over four dead bodies. Not long.

She slid quietly out the door, retrieved her backpack from behind the potted plant and hightailed it down the stairwell. She was only half a flight down when she heard screaming. Probably someone from the suite next door. She’d gotten out just in time.