Tikki puts the red dot of the targeting laser just under his sternum, and 
squeezes the trigger. The Walther thumps and a red blotch appears almost dead 
center between where she guesses the guard’s pecs should be. He staggers back,
the cup of soykaf falls. Tikki immediately shifts her point of aim. By then, the 
guard on the left has thrown down his cigarette and ashtray and is thrusting one 
hand under his jacket. A pro caught so badly off-guard would simply have moved 
his or her hands as the situation required without wasting the time to throw anything anywhere. When the game is for real, milliseconds count. Tikki puts the 
red dot on his chest and fires again. The Walther thumps and a red blotch 
appears right over where the guard’s heart should be. The man spins back and
sprawls, his heavy automatic clattering to the floor.