Page 70 of Ruthless Touch

He could blow my cover in less than five seconds.

On stage, two more soldiers have taken up the microphone. They sing Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe”; the guy on the left draping a shirt over his head to mimic long hair.

Both their faces burn red from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment.

Their superiors egg them on with loud jeers.

Finally, Lieutenant Rhee pushes himself up from his chair and mentions to the others next to him he needs to take a piss.

I’m never more grateful for my ability to read lips than times like these.

He makes his way toward the door.

My pulse spikes with anticipation.

This is it. The moment. My moment.

I wait long enough for it not to be suspicious, then I slip out of the room after him.

The dimly lit corridor stretches on in front of me. I’m at the back of one end while Lieutenant Rhee is on the opposite side, rounding the corner.

The doors to private karaoke rooms line the hall as I trail in his wake, always cautious to remain at a sizable distance.

I’m coming up on the hall he’s turned down when he’s stepping through the door marked men’s restroom. Hesitating for half a second, I pray that no other man is inside.

If someone is, it would be an instant scene and my cover would be blown.

I slip inside so cautiously, I don’t make a sound. The door barely even opens. Just a narrow crack and I’m sneaking in.

Lieutenant Rhee is already in the middle stall. The room is otherwise empty, the only sound the trickling of his urination.

My heartbeat is out of control, pounding faster and faster as the moment looms close. Once I kill him, I’ll have to be quick making my escape.

No more than sixty seconds to make it out of the building.

I’ve already memorized every emergency exit in this building, and there’s one just two corridors down.

Lieutenant Rhee hums tunelessly as he relieves himself. The stream seems to go on forever—all those drinks finally taking their toll—and I shift my weight impatiently as precious seconds tick by.

Finally the sound stops, replaced by him blowing his nose.

I can’t help making a face of disgust as I’m forced to stand by and listen to it all.

He shuffles inside the stall, then flushes the toilet. I edge forward waiting for the second he walks out.

A firm hand clamps down on my shoulder to stop me.

Instinct responds defensively, driving me to slam my elbow into the mystery person’s ribs. He still doesn’t let go as he holds onto me and we tumble backward into the tiled bathroom wall.

We’re entangled as I wrench myself free and spin to face him.

The man’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a ski mask obscuring most of his face.

But his gleaming eyes instantly reveal exactly who it is.

Gun.

Here to once again foil my mission.