Ismail blinked.

That’s all the opening I needed. I pressed down on the sub-dermal switch implanted on the side of my neck and adrenaline surged through my body like quicksilver. Lunge forward to close the distance between us in one, two steps. Ismail raised his arms defensively, but I’m low and fast, inside his guard. The secretary’s eyes widened as my fists beat a fleshy rhythm on the Iranian’s midsection, then grabbed a double handful of his suit-coat and hurled him headfirst into the counter.

“You touch that alarm, bitch, and I’ll…shit!”

No sooner than Ismail fell to the floor was he up again, metal flashing. Red hot pain flashed across my ribs and I spun away from him, gasping. He stepped forward, grinning. Out from between his knuckles, three 4-inch, double-edged razors had emerged from cybernetic housings. His right hand was red with blood.

My blood.

“Fuck, man. You’re all full of fucking surprises,” I managed, ducking away from his quick strikes, jockeying for room. “Got a few surprises myself.”