Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 1; Chapter 9 &10

The other lady

9.

The lady stayed in the shadows keeping her presence on a low profile. She was in a foreign land sent there on the trail of her lover, and on her task to kill the Mullah. She was trained as an assassin, and her recent task was to get close to one named Duncan McLeod; a British soldier. It worked too well, for she was in love with him.

“Duncan, you are leaving.” The lady stood there on the balcony of the humble home she had shared with the white lover. It was provided by the Guild for her cover as the laundry lady who does the washing for the white soldiers. It was a front for her to know the soldiers.

“Yes, I am recalled to home.” Duncan had stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her. He leaned forward to lay his lips on the lefty shoulder. His fingers wrapped itself into the smooth cloth that was wrapped on the lady. It was the traditional wear of the lady’s culture, and to Duncan, it was an exotic look on the lady.

“Home? Is this not your home now?” The lady pulled away to step back into the private chamber of their home. “I thought you have told me that you will stay with me.”

“Yes, I do.” The man pleaded. “I have no other desire than seeing you daily. I had to go back to London as part of my placement with the Army. And I needed to go back to sort my life there. I have …other matters to conduct there.”

“Duncan McLeod, you are a liar.” The lady turned her glare at the man. “You will not return to me.”

“Sushila Tamchi, I am faithful to you. I just need your trust.” Duncan approached the lady and it was then she lashed out with her right leg at him. Her kick appeared out of the cloth but the other was prepared for it. Duncan blocked it and then reached out towards the lady, but she had retreated. She turned and then stepped on the nearby chair there to leap high. In the jump, she turned her body with the right leg swinging towards him. Duncan had to ducked from that kick and retreated. The lady landed on her feet and then lashed out with the left leg at Duncan. He was caught on the midriff and fell backwards.

“Duncan…” The lady rushed forth to attend her lover, but he was unhurt on the kick but on her mistrust. He grabbed the lady and pulled her down to the flooring. He laid his lips to her’ while subduing her struggles to get up. His kiss was returned by the lady and the flow of love was felt by them,

“I won’t leave you, my love.” His last spoken words that night. There she was in his home land, tired and hungry after a long gruelling voyage with no one to receive her. She was piled in with a group of her nationalities and led to a group of carriages. She was placed into one.

“She is an odd one. Probably stowaway.” Sushila heard the men who was leading them. “Consider it as a gift.”

Sushila did not complete the trip; she jumped the carriage midway in the open countryside. Her escape was seen and three of the guards who pursued her. They cornered her in the fields.

“Fancy a trollop today?” The one to the rear of Sushila voiced out. “I am sure she will scream on your size.”

Sushila knew the men were mocking her but she was not any lady from the ship. She was the assassin trained from the tender age of three. She did not wait for the attack and did her own. She rushed towards the man in front of her. She leapt high and with her right knee slammed hard into the face there. She then twisted her body to swing her left leg into the second man in the face. She then landed in a semi crouched posture facing the man who mocked her.

“I am not letting any filly tells me how to fight.” The last standing man rushed at her; his body frame was huge with the wide girth on the waist and the pants hung up by the straps snapped on at the waist. His aggressive move was tapered by his clumsy moves. Sushila swung out her right leg in a sweeping move toppling the huge attacker onto his haunches. She followed through with a body drop with the right elbow extended to snap at the throat. The man was soon gasping for his breaths.

“Child, you need to eat.” Sushila saw the piece of bread extended to her by the lady in the shawl. She had seen them around; doing the charitable offerings. Sushila sought shelter there and travel at night to search for Duncan. It did not take long to find out on the Mullah.

“The Saidullah the Sartor? Mullah of Mastun?” Fate had drawn her to London. Sushila will complete the task given to her by the Killer Guild; the one which the was reason she was assigned to get close to Duncan. The Guild knew that the Englishman could lead them to the Mullah who was hunted by the Empire. It had worked but each attempt was foiled by the Mullah’s escape. The Mullah was to know when the attack was to take place. The Guild suspected an informer and that person was Duncan. He was then marked for execution by the Guild, but the order was place on hold by Sushila on the excuse he will lead them to the Mullah.

An oath she was to fail and for that, she was hunted soon after Duncan’s departure. Soon Sushila was on the run from the Guild too. She learned that the Guild could reached you anywhere.

And it was discovered to be true.

Sushila leaned back to the wall keeping herself to the shadows. She regretted not having changed her attire; wearing the traditional dressing in London was alike a beacon there. She had always worn the design since young and was unable to visualise herself in the tight bodice and hoop skirt and the umbrella. She had seen the design at her homeland and to be exposed here was more nightmarish. Her attire had attracted the unwanted spectators, and one of them was on her trail.

Guild? Or was it a local stalker?

Sushila maintained her breathing to shallow depths while her body relaxed on the muscles. It was part of her training and when she moved into action, her body will react differently.

Her right arm struck out at the figure who had trailed her for the last hour. It was finger jab attack and was targeted on the left ear area. On contact the fingers curled in with the knuckles to lend more impact to the area before the knuckles cleansed up into a fist to complete the blow. The figure fell to the side with ugly howl from the throat, but the blows were impacting on his balance to stand then. Sushila then rushed onto the fallen body to straddle it with both her fists aimed at the face.

“Stop it!” It was a voice not expected to Sushila then. She pulled her punches back. It was Duncan. Her lover.

“How?” Sushila grabbed her lover. He was gasping to breathe and then turned over to throw up. She was glad that he was there.

10.

The hideout was a spot under the bridge; well it was until Duncan found the shed near it and had his occupation there. He was used to the rough living but when he heard his love was seen, he had it furnished.

“I knew you were coming. I had an old mate of doing the rounds. I was …. you knew my tasks. I am …. was doing my tasks.” Duncan spoke to her in the native language picked up at the Frontier. He was seated on the stool by the bedding where his love lady lay there still recovering from her ordeal in the new area. She may be a tough person; an assassin by profession but in the arms of her lover, she was a lady once again.

“Were…your task so … Don’t tell me. You were always doing your tasks. I should not had loved you.” Sushila looked away. “I should had stayed home…. My own home.”

“Sushila, I was still on the task I told you back then. The Mullah is here, and he was doing more bad things. I had to do my task…”

“The Mullah, the Mullah…are you his only consideration?” Sushila turned to sit up but Duncan stopped her.

“I will set it right. You must rest.” Duncan pleaded with her. Sushila pushed the hands away.

“Duncan, you know me well. I am not any lady you meet at the streets. I am not a washing lady. I do washing but its not dirty clothes. I removed dirt like corrupt officers. And bad men. Like you, I was doing a task. I may not like what the Mullah was doing but he was my target. I was to get to him through you. Instead I got through to you.”

“I knew all that. We discussed it before. The other factor we loved each other was because you are not entirely local. Your mother was Portuguese. You have her blood. She was an officer’s daughter. You came from a fierce father too who was a warrior. You are warrior bred. We both wanted the Mullah but neither of us was making way until I was sent back here. Here in London, I have clues to his whereabouts. I am close to grabbing him until I found my life was in danger. I had my mate. His name is Oates to cover me. We do look alike although we are not brothers. He pretended to be me while I work. He was to distract them off me. I …”

Duncan paused to look at the lady. She had stood up and was adjusting her attire.

“Are you leaving?” Duncan asked. The lady ignored him and walked towards the doorway. Duncan got up, but she stopped him.

“I need some air.” Sushila replied. “I will stand by the window.”

Sushila saw the shadow by the door slits. Her instincts told her that was potential trouble. She saw the long stick by the doorway. It will work for her. She turned to look at Duncan who was caught her expression. He stood up and reached for the familiar bayonet placed next to the bedding.

The door was kicked open and the figure rushed in. He was dressed like any other; jacket over the dirty shirt and pants. He was armed with a spear on the short staff. He was not alone. There was the second attacker; armed with a small axe on a short handle.

The spearman moved in on Duncan assuming he was the real threat. The other stepped in close to move right getting in position to help. He was not prepared for the lady with the stick. She did not swing the stick at him but thrust it into his face form the side. The axe man screamed out and it distracted the spearman. The later turned to look and had his heart pierced by the bayonet. The spearman collapsed while the lady was following up on her second attack. The lady thrust the stick once more into the left armpit pushed upwards towards the shoulder. She punched the nerves there and inflamed the heart. He was grabbing his chest trying to breathe but the lady was cruel. She went in with the leg to step on the next.

“It’s over.” Duncan voiced out.

It was not.

The shots came soon. The shooters laid cover fire on the shed. Duncan grabbed his lover and rushed to the far wall.

“Bottom level. Trap door.” The made it out, and then Duncan picked up the bottle he had rigged with the flammable. He lit it and tossed it into the shed. They ran towards the river and then jumped in.

“Duncan you are hurt.” Sushila pulled the man out of the river. She saw the wound on his left shoulder. She cradled him from the cold and his teeth was chattering. He mentioned a name.

“Doctor Watson. John Watson.”

Across the city, Doctor Watson was having his morning tea at the coffee shop. He was perusing the morning papers. Apart from the political jibes, there was the usual news on the crime scene. Ever since the mystery of the Ripper, the later news on killers have not taken prominence like that one. He was to read the sports section; he was a cricketer before but with the war wound, his limp narrowed his position to the batsman.

“Doctor, fancy meeting you here?” Doctor Watson looked up to see that the person addressing him was the Sergeant Lestrade. The other sat opposite him uninvited took the last scone.

“I checked the Duncan case.” The doctor heard the other watching his favourite scone went into the wrong mouth. “Guess what, I did some further check. He is not Duncan. He is Mathew Oates…”

“Do you want another scone? I am going to order more.” Doctor Watson extended the offer. He knew then that it was going to be a long morning. He was unaware of someone watching him.

“I hope you are right, Doctor. Surely the Sergeant may be just looking up an old friend.”  The figure was dressed in the brown suit with the overcoat on his lap. He was seated cross legged on the shop opposite the street. His tea cup was half full and his biscuits left untouched.

“I am seldom wrong, Colonel. Precision counts in my work.” The one addressed as a doctor replied. “Find out who is that man speaking to the Sergeant? He may know Duncan. He looked like a military officer from his moves.”

“Yes, Doctor. I will. He will end up like Duncan when he is found out.” The one named the Colonel conveyed his wishes. “They are all deserving.”

“Do what is needed but I need to know what Duncan knew. The operation cannot be exposed. I cannot be exposed.” The Doctor gave the order to the military officer. “Am I understood? Now, please excuse me. I have a morning lecture on aerodynamics theory.”

“I doubt I will need to know that. Sniping may be up my scope.” The Colonel reply, and then reached for the tea cup. His fingers held steady on the cup and levelled it to his eye level with the rim still showing the other Doctor with half the body hidden. “Just perfect the sight.”