Alice saw the USMC tattoo on his wrist; he was an ex-Marine and fought like it. Alice didn’t try to break the grip—the agent was larger and stronger than she was—instead, she braced her feet against the floor and pushed upward. Vision graying with each pulse, she lifted herself and dropped to the right, twisting as she fell. Like a chair that had a leg smashed away, they toppled over, and Alice rolled on top of him. The agent raised his elbows and drove them into Alice’s stomach. Winded, she pushed away, then stood, unsteady.