Netty took Ken from his sheath. The black blade glistened. The eagle lay poised in her right hand. She wielded the weapon effortlessly. The ironbark pole moved on the training platform. The sword and three knives of various lengths threatened her body with each parry. The training device had been built by Imoto. She had trained on it so long and so often that she could now go through her paces blindfolded.

After half an hour she took a break. Perspiration ran down her face, arms and back. Her shirt stuck fast to her body in a cooling embrace. It was hot in the basement weight training room. Whisky came over to lick the salt from the sweat on her legs. It tickled. She bent down and patted her companion of three years. Imoto had given him to her as a pup, a "blue" English staffie, when she graduated. She had had to stay an extra two weeks while Whisky passed quarantine regulations in Japan before they could fly home.

Her father met her at the airport. When they got home he rushed her into the basement to see the training room he had prepared for her and her brother while she was away. Sitting on the training pole was the cutest six week old white and grey kitten she called "Soda" to go with Whisky.

They trained hard every day, even Sunday, after Mass and before the Sunday roast. Whisky and Soda were a year old then and used to watch them train lying together..they were inseparable, on a large black and red bean bag.

Her father helped her train Whisky too. Whisky looked fiercer than he was. True, he had the lock jaw that could latch onto the throat of another dog while he shook the life out of it. With the right training he could attack a fully grown man. Biting the arm holding a weapon like a gun, a knife or even a sword like Ken. Bringing down an assailant on command by biting their Achilles tendon. Killing a person, once that person was on the ground, on command, by ripping his or her throat out.

After six months Netty could command her pal to do all of these things. The final part of Whisky's training was to get him to attack Netty in defence of any member of the family. If Netty raised her sword to strike her Dad or Anton . . .Whisky would growl and snarl, baring teeth in a threatening and warning pose. If Netty followed through with the attack Whisky would launch a counter attack until he was ordered to stand down by Netty . . . no one else. The command "Cease" would result in Whisky abruptly ceasing the attack and returning to the comfort of his black and red bean bag beside Soda, who seemed uninterested in all these shenanigans and would invariably continue to either preen herself, or sleep throughout the ordeal.

It was after one of these sessions that her father laid a bombshell on Netty. In answer to her question of when she would be ready to join the family business.

"When and only when you can kill someone you love without hesitation," Andre had replied.

"What! I could never kill someone I love. Never!"

"Then, there is your answer "Never."

"To do what we do, you must be prepared to get close to a target. Even to fall madly in love with the target. Yet still at the appointed moment to snuff out the life of the target and fulfill the contract. A large part of this job is critical thinking under enormous pressure. You must stay grounded . . . Keep your head when all others are losing theirs. Your very life and those of your family depends on it!"

"How will I know when I'm ready?" Netty asked.

"When you can kill your friend Whisky there . . . and I don't mean at the vet when he is terminally ill. I mean right now without compunction or remorse. Until you achieve something like that you can never be ready. Without passing this test you would be sending yourself on a suicide mission. And I will not have that! Neither will Anton."

"You mean Anton has passed this test?"

"Yes . . . What do you really think happened to Ringo? You don't really think that dog was stupid enough to be hit by a car do you? If you are that naive it's probably best for you to stay out of the family business . . . no matter how accomplished you become with a sword."

Dad, I am ready now. Ready to avenge you. I will make you proud of me!

Netty raised Ken in the air in a threatening stance. The black blade flashed. Whisky growled. He bared his teeth and charged. Whisky latched onto Netty's left leg. His jaw locked as the black blade sliced through the air.

Blood spurted and sprayed through the air as Ken found his target. Netty cried out loud in pain as she yelled "Cease!"

Soda was sliced clean in half as Whisky opened his jaw, tasted Netty's blood and whimpered off to mourn the loss of his friend.

I'm ready Dad.

That you are darlin', a voice in her head said, that you are!

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