Time seemed to freeze for Anselme as several things happened at once. First, he caught a flash of black metal as the man began to withdraw what he immediately recognized as an MPXδ3 from the folds of his coat. Anticipating the assassin’s intention, Anselme braced his legs and set both palms on the underside of the table to lift it–glasses, silverware, and all–into the air and, rotating at the hips, hurled it into the man who was just extricating the weapon from his coat. Askatla’s attempt to lean away and flee the gunman as the furniture rose flipped her chair…