The Fixer #5

Three hours later Emily was ensconced in the swankiest room at the J9 Savoy. The room, suite actually, had two floors. The first floor consisted of a living area, a bar, and a small powder room. The entire floor was bathed in shades of green. It was as if a jungle had grown up around you as you walked into the suite. The second floor contained the bedroom, which was done in even more shades of green. As you climbed the stairs and turned to go up to the bedroom, the landing contained a Jacuzzi bath. It was surrounded by more plants and looked like a hidden grotto. The suite couldn’t really compare with the unadulterated luxury of the Savoy in London, but it certainly wasn’t bad. She had bathed away the uncertainties she had been feeling after she left the tube station and was ready to tackle her meeting with “Mr. Black.” She liked that name better than “The Fixer.” And, since she didn’t have any other name for him, it would have to do.
They were to meet at 9:30 at the Jessso Club. The Jessso was a trendy bar that catered to the after hours business crowd. To blend in she put on a business suit – not strictly business – it might just turn some heads. Was she really trying to blend in? The grey pin-striped suit was cut to flow with her figure, it never bunched or creased. She paid through the nose for this look, but it was worth it.
She took the elevator down to the lobby and stepped out on the street to hail a cab. As she put her hand in the air to signal the driver, she was clubbed behind the knees and knocked off her feet. She rolled quickly and looked up just in time to see a man she had thought was Juneau on the comm.-portal. She kicked out and landed a well-placed blow to his knee. She heard a snap and hoped that the heel of her shoe had shattered his patella, and not the other way around. He quickly limped to the right trying to hit her with the cane he had used to knock her down. As he put the cane on the ground to steady himself, she grabbed the cane, knocked it out from under him and hen he landed on the ground she stepped on his neck with her shoe, heel ready to puncture his esophagus.
“Alright,” she gasped, “Enough foreplay. Who the hell are you?”
He coughed and asked her in a wheezing whisper, “Relax your foot, I can hardly breathe.”
“If you don’t give me the answers I want you won’t breathe,” she replied as she let up a fraction on the pressure she had placed on his neck.