The Unknown Spy by Eoin McNamee Page B

acknowledge, had a sneaking admiration for Brunholm. And every time Brunholm betrayed somebody or let them down, Danny learned something.
    “How many arrows does it have?” Danny asked.
    “Lots,” Dixie said. “Lots and lots.”
    “And how quickly does it move?”
    “No you don’t,” Dixie said. “I’m not acting as a decoy for Brunholm.”
    “We need him, Dixie, whether you like it or not,” Danny said, “and he will be grateful.”
    “Sure,” Dixie said sarcastically, “he’s always grateful and really nice about things.”
    F ive minutes later Dixie pushed the door open and stood stock-still on the threshold. The crossbow’s antennae twitched as though suspicious. Dixie winked at it. Almostfaster than the eye could see, the crossbow whirled and fired an arrow straight at her. Dixie disappeared and reappeared beside a leopard-skin dressing gown on a stand at the other side of the room just as the arrow struck and stood quivering in the doorframe.
    “Every time she moves, you move,” Danny shouted to the quivering Brunholm. Danny could see the interior of the room by looking at its reflection in the dressing-table mirror.
    Dixie moved her hand and disappeared. The crossbow turned and fired, and Brunholm threw himself to the floor and edged a few desperate inches forward. Dixie’s next move got him to the shelter of the bed, where he was able to crawl six feet without being detected by the crossbow. But in the meantime the machine appeared to have worked out what Dixie was doing. As she shuffled again and Brunholm gained a few more feet, the crossbow moved with incredible speed, so fast that Danny had to wait until Dixie had reappeared by the dressing table to see if she’d been hit or not. The next time she disappeared without moving at all, yet the crossbow was able to discharge a shot, as though it had read her mind. Brunholm was almost at the door. Dixie and Danny had agreed that her last reappearance would be at the wardrobe close to the door.
    “Okay,” Danny said to Brunholm, “one … two …” As he completed his countdown a thought flashed through his head. As the word
three
left his mouth, Danny grabbed a chair from the corridor and flung it into the air directly between the wardrobe and the crossbow. Threethings happened very quickly: Dixie disappeared, Brunholm flung himself across the threshold, and the crossbow swung around and fired an arrow straight at the wardrobe where Dixie was about to appear!
    Danny saw the next events as though they were happening in slow motion—Dixie appearing at the wardrobe, the arrow cleaving the air, its tip glittering. For a moment he thought all was lost, that the chair would fall too quickly. Dixie’s mouth made an O as she realized what was happening; then the arrow struck the chair in one leg, carrying it away and slamming it against the wall. Quick as a flash Dixie disappeared and reappeared beside Danny, her breathing fast and shallow.
    “It read my mind!” she gasped. “It knew where I was going to appear and it aimed for there!”
    “Look at my chair,” Brunholm growled. “Best Chinese lacquerwork on that chair.”
    “Don’t say it,” Danny murmured to Dixie. “Don’t say it!”
    Without a backward glance Brunholm strode toward the parlor, where he threw himself down in an armchair and, despite its being early, poured himself a large brandy from a decanter on the table.
    “Did you see anyone in the corridor when you came up?” he demanded. They shook their heads. “Must have sneaked up on me when I was asleep. Damn cunning individual. I haven’t seen a Crossbow of Exquisite Sensitivity in years. Blackpitt!” he shouted.
    “Yes, Master Brunholm,” the announcer said sweetly, “you called?”
    “Get McGuinness up here at once,” he said, “and inform Master Devoy that there’s been another assassination attempt.”
    “Another one?” Blackpitt said. “How exciting!” Blackpitt loved gossip.
    “Probably too late,”