NAME: Louisa Hoff-Perez
OCCUPATION: N.A.S.T.I.E. Assassin
"Kitten's got claws," remarked Grant, his hands upraised just enough to indicate surrender. He kicked the door to his small hotel room shut with the heel of his shoe and stepped carefully to the center of the suite.
Louisa held the elegant silver revolver pointed directly at Grant's chest, "Shut up. Stand where you are. With your right hand, reach into the your coat and slowly withdraw your weapon. Any fast moves and I will shoot."
"Very well," complied Grant, "You're the lady in my bedroom with a gun."
"Put your weapon on the ground and kick it under the bed."
"Anything you say, my dear". Grant kept his weight on the ball of his right foot as he used his left toe to flick his nine millimeter under the bed. A quick, dancerlike shift in his weight allowed Grant to effortlessly step inside Louisa's shooting stance and immobilize her gun arm in a judo lock. He chopped her wrist with a single quick open-palm strike. She dropped her gun to the floor with a low animal grunt.
He grabbed Louisa by her waist and pulled her close. Her eyes flared hot as welding torches. Her breath smelled of strawberries and honey.
"When was the last time we met like this? Gdansk? Toronto?"
"Johannesburg. You tried to kill me with a kuru blade on Ash Wednesday."
Grant threw Louisa onto the bed.
- excerpt from the novel "A Spy Too Far"