"Just pull there." She pointed, then raised the muzzle. "Careful. You might need that foot someday."
I lifted it up and it coughed a burst of flame. The water cooler outside my office exploded.
"Uh, I think you have to be Chuck Norris to do it like that. On a scale of one to ten, that round scores down in the fractions. Better aim."
"Spoilsport." But I did. I took critical bead on a leering green monitor, squeezed, and felt a light kick from the metal stock. Out blinked one of the dying monster's eyes. Then I methodically took out half a dozen more workstations, just for the hell of it. Automatic weapons fire can be great therapy. Not to mention fun.
"Okay for a beginner . . . Matt!" She was pointing at the desk of Noda's secretary. A phone light had just flashed on. "He's calling in reinforcements."
"Time to make our not-so-graceful exit."
"Bring the automatic."
"You've got it . . . and, uh, I'm a little embarrassed to ask you for money, but would you mind grabbing your purse. We may need it."
"You're now broke, right?" She dashed for her office.
"So we're told." I was wrapping the Uzi in some computer printouts that hadn't yet caught fire. The place was really starting to blaze, thanks to all the paper. Smoke everywhere.