I keep all my notes right here on the bottom of my shoe

Sabrina opened here eyes, blinking several times to clear her vision and focus on her surroundings. Why do my shoulders hurt? she wondered, before tipping her head back to see her wrists bound around a hook with rough rope, and pulled over her head by the chain from which the hook hung. Ah, that's right.

It all started coming back to her now. She had been sent behind the Iron Curtain to retrieve sensitive data from the commie bastard who'd stolen it, right out from under the nose of the entire US Army. A single operative had a better chance, than if they sent in a whole platoon. That had been their theory. Based on her current predicament, she determined they'd been wrong.

Everything had been going so well. She'd spent a week doing recon just to track the son of a bitch down. Why did he have to steal it in winter? she'd wondered, Moscow is fucking cold! She hated the cold, and it was only the thought of the warm, sandy, tropical beach she was going to escape to when she completed her mission that got her through each bitter night.

At last. There he was. Through the scope on her rifle she watched him eating his week old bread, washing it down with rotgut vodka, his little hands twitching nervously as they fluttered like wounded birds over the small disc that lay on the table beside him.

The bullet left the muzzle with a muffled pop, and she watched it hit its mark, dropping her target like bad habit. He slumped over the table before sliding from his chair onto the floor, the disc glinting at her from the table like the light at the end of the tunnel it was for her, and she couldn't help but smile. Now all she had to do was walk across the street, get the disc, and then wait for her pick up.

Movement through her scope as she started to lower it stopped her, and she peered through it back into the bastard's squat. Who the hell is that?! she wondered as she watched a tall man dressed in black saunter across the room and pick up the disc, turning toward the window and making direct eye contact with her. Lifting the disc he nodded his thanks at her with a smile, and then turned on his heel and headed for the door. Mother fucker!

She dropped the rifle and ran for the fire escape. Jumping from one landing to the next, she let gravity help her descend the outside of the dilapidated brick building, pulling her toward the ground and she hit it running. Man, why do they always run? They'll only die tired!

She laughed at the memory of that thought, and her muscles cried out in pain at the movement, giving her a sharp reminder of the beating she'd taken from the man in black. And now here she was, naked, bleeding and bloody, and looking into his furious green eyes from where she hung by her hands.

"Who sent you?" he asked her for the thousandth time, his fist connecting with her ribs when she remained silent.

"All right, all right!" she said, grimacing against the fresh pain. He paused, moving to stand in front of her, and looking up with impatient eyes. "I'll tell you everything. I have it all here. I keep all my notes right here on the bottom of my shoe." Despite the fact that she was naked, he reflexively looked down at her foot, surprise flashing briefly through his eyes as her foot connected solidly with his nose, driving the nasal bone into his brain.

Grabbing the chain, she pulled herself up until the rope cleared the hook and she dropped to the floor on shaky legs. Getting out of the rope was easy, and as she slipped into the dead man's long black coat and heavy boots, she smiled despite the pain in her face, as she pulled the disc from his pocket and headed out to meet her pick up.