Inside the room -- it definitely wasn't her room -- she pondered on the appearance of the blonde who had suddenly come in from the night.

She sighed, undressed, and washed the road grime off her lithe body. She hoped that she'd taken off more dirt than the shower put on, at least a little more.

There was a knock on the door. She emptied a magazine from the suppressed MPSD through the hole that someone at some time in the past had kicked in the door. Tossing the now-empty weapon on the bed, she took up her suppressed 10 millimeter and carefully opened the door. There lay Igor, dressed as a pizza deliveryman, the "frisbee grenade" still harmless in the pizza box. She took the grenade and tossed the body over the railing and into the dumpster.

Why, she wondered, weren't they looking for that blonde?

She turned, reloaded, dressed, packed, and left the motel in the car.