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I yelled, "Halt!" loud as I could, and one stopped while the other dove for his musket. I yanked my big pistol from the back of my belt, leveled it on my forearm and fired in his general direction with a load of buckshot. I was about to attack the other Hessian who was standing with arms outstretched, looking hopeful, when someone cried "Stop, halten," and the girl with the bloody nose who was just climbing to her knees cried, "Behind you!"I ducked and spun about to face a big man with a sword in his hand. He leapt gracefully from the carriage door showing me his teeth and whirling his weapon. I parried his first thrust and cracked him in the side of the head with the stock of my musket. It made a sound like striking a ripe watermelon with the flat of your hand. The girl behind me screamed as he fell.I turned and found her in the grip of the Hessian grenadier who had wound his hand in her hair and clamped his forearm about her neck. She looked like a pretty healthy young woman, so I. I wasn't wearing anything else feminine... yet.I found myself working in a city that was hosting an ideal home exhibition; you know the type of thing... knives that never need sharpening, tape that invisibly mended holes the size of a bus and gadgets that no home could function without. And there tucked away in a corner was a wig stall. Well I passed that stall from all directions scanning the crowd and the stall. How busy was it, did anyone hang around, how bored was the assistant and then with shaking knees walked onto it. There was no turning back and I bought a long Auburn wig. I stashed this quickly into my backpack and meandered around the stalls, going into crowds, darting down side aisles. I kept this up for about five minutes to shake off anyone following me.My paranoia was such that I even took three different bus routes back to the hotel...hey MI5 had nothing on me. Finally I got to my hotel room and took out the wig and promptly put it on backwards. Well there were no.
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