by L. T. Ryan
The girl nodded and reached for Hannah’s hand.
“Follow me,” Hannah said. “I know how to get there.”
So they started toward the bus station. Clarissa searched for a taxi, didn’t see one. She didn’t know the city bus routes in this part of London. Even if she did, it would take longer to use public transportation than to walk.
When the car screeched to a stop twenty feet in front of them, Clarissa’s first reaction was to turn and run. The second car that stopped behind them negated that thought.
Ahead, a man stepped out of the gray sedan. He was tall, blond, in his forties.
“That’s him,” Hannah said.
Clarissa slid the bag off her shoulder, unzipped it, reached inside with her left hand. She wrapped her palm around the handle of the Browning and let the bag fall to the ground. She then reached her right hand around her back and under her shirt and pulled her Sig from its holster. She committed the position of the man in front of her to memory. Then she glanced over her shoulder. No one had stepped out of the second car, but they watched her. She noticed a black van that approached at too fast a speed. Tires squealed as the vehicle decelerated. Clarissa looked forward, saw the blond man retreat a few steps. She whipped her head around and saw the black van careen into the second car. The impact drove the parked car toward the women.
Hannah grabbed Mia and dove toward the street. The woman managed to turn mid-air and land on her back with Mia pulled tight to her chest.
Clarissa had no choice but to dive in the other direction, toward the building. The tan car hit the curb and rose a few feet into the air. It headed straight for her. The front wheels hit the sidewalk, bounced up, forward. The man behind the wheel had wide eyes, an open mouth. He clutched the steering wheel, leaned over it. The wheels touched down again. Clarissa scooted backward into the wall. She managed to hop to her feet while in a crouched position. The car was close to the point of impact, an impact that would possibly end Clarissa’s life, or likely result in a severed spine.
She lunged to her left with no regard to how she would land. The car crashed into the side of the building. She felt pain radiate through her body. From where, though? It covered every inch of her being. She forced herself to look up, expected to see her leg pinned between the car and the wall. It wasn’t though. She’d avoided being hit by a few feet. She pulled herself up. The man in the driver’s seat was draped over the steering wheel, half inside, half outside the car. Jagged shards of glass had shredded his flesh.
“Clarissa,” Hannah screamed.
Clarissa forced herself all the way up. She scanned the street and sidewalk. The crowd that had formed made it impossible to see much at all. Hannah screamed again. Mia did, too. Clarissa balled her hands into fists. She realized that they were empty. She scanned the ground around her. Couldn’t find the Sig, located the Browning. She scooped it up. Her right forearm screamed in pain when she gripped the pistol.
The sliding door of the van started to open. Clarissa moved forward, away from the van. She still was unable to locate Hannah and Mia. She climbed up on the tan car’s trunk. From there, she had enough of a view to see everything that was happening on the street. People continued to make their way to the crash site. Police sirens whined in the distance. The car must have been a few minutes away still. She couldn’t find it.
She heard more screams. Saw the blond man moving against the flow of onlookers. He had Mia on his right hip. His right hand was wrapped around Hannah’s hair and he dragged her toward the car. No one stopped to help or interfere. A second man emerged from the vehicle. She knew him, had seen him before. Maybe at Naseer’s house, she thought. He took Mia and put her in the backseat. Then the guy pulled out a gun and aimed it at the girl. He said something indecipherable over the hum of the crowd.
Clarissa shifted the Browning to her left arm, raised it toward the men. She yelled, “Let her go.”
The man looked toward her, whipped his arm around and fired. The shot went wide of Clarissa. She heard a woman cry out in pain and then a body hit the ground. The man fired again. Clarissa jumped from the trunk. Pain shot through her knee. She planted her right hand on the ground, but was unable to use it to help her up. She managed to get to her knees, then her feet. She aimed her gun in the direction of the car. The crowd in front of her parted. The blond man stood outside the driver’s door. He pulled it open.
“Bastard,” Clarissa yelled.
The man looked at her, cross at first, then he smiled. She pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the door next to the man. He shook his head. She took a second, inhaled, steadied her left arm, took aim. An arm crashed down over hers. She fired into the street. Bits of hardened asphalt shot up like molten lava. The blond man smiled again before disappearing into the car. Tail lights lit up then faded. The car pulled away from the curb.
“Come on,” a man said from behind her as he pulled her to her feet. His hand squeezed her forearm and she yelled out in pain.
“Let me go,” she said, driving her heel into the guy’s foot.
He dragged her away, spun her, carried her to the black van. She fought, kicked, thrashed. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t break free. He tossed her into the van, then got inside. She backed into the corner. Her heart sank when she saw Randy shaking his head at her.
Randy was there to clean up the messes they made.
She had made a massive mess. Sinclair had found out. He’d send Randy to deal with it.
“Screw you,” she said.
He smiled, nodded toward the front of the van. The man behind the wheel turned around and stared at her.
“Sinclair,” she said.
“It’s time for you to go.”
Episode 15
CHAPTER 57
Hannah wrapped her right arm around Mia and pulled her close. Through tear filled eyes, she stared at the man behind the wheel. He glanced up at the rear view and met her stare.
“What do you want with us?” she said through clenched teeth.
Neither man said anything.
“Why don’t you let us go?”
Again, no answer.
“You bastards. There’s gonna be a whole team of men so far up your asses you’ll wish you were dead. And they’re gonna accommodate that wish. That’s what they do. Your lives are as worthless as that dog crap you just drove through.”
“Oh, shut up,” the man driving the car said.
“Tell me where you’re—”
“I said shut up.” He nodded at the other guy, who turned in his seat and aimed his pistol at Hannah.
She pushed Mia away and leaned forward. “Do it, then. Or aren’t you man enough?”
The guy smiled. “Don’t tempt me.”
“You aren’t gonna do a damn thing. Aim that gun somewhere else.”
The guy shrugged and shifted in his seat. Perhaps he assumed she’d given up. He couldn’t be more wrong.
“What are you doing?” the man driving said.
“I’m not going to shoot them and you know it,” the guy said. “You know our orders.”
Hannah leaned back, turned and stared out the window. Buildings passed by in a blur. Just like the endless trees back home, the city was its own kind of wilderness. The car turned several times and she had lost sight of where they were. Next to her, Mia alternated between sniffles and sobs. Hannah pulled her close again.
They remained silent for the remainder of the trip. The further they got from the city, the more Hannah feared that either she or Mia, or perhaps both of them, would not be alive in a day’s time. Although, would the men have taken them in broad daylight, on a crowded street, if their intention was to kill? If only she could gauge what it was they wanted.
She didn’t want to think about it any longer. She wished she had stayed home instead of returning to England. In light of everything that had happened, dealing with her father for a few months would have been a breeze compared to the past couple days.
Mia pressed closer. Hannah fel
t the girl’s breath, hot on her hand. She knew at that moment that she was where she was supposed to be. Who would protect the girl if not her?
The car turned onto a residential street in what might have once been a nice neighborhood. They passed several rows of homes, old and dilapidated and in disrepair. They made a left, then another left onto an alley that ran between two streets. The man driving stopped behind a home. The other guy got out, unlocked and opened a gate. They passed through, and the man closed the gate then walked ahead of the car and opened the garage door. They pulled inside and stopped. The driver stepped out. The sunlight faded as the door was once again shut. The driver opened Hannah’s door.
“Get out,” he said.
Hannah eased her legs out, used the door to pull herself up in front of the guy.
“Back up,” he said.
She turned ninety degrees and took a step back. The guy stepped around the door, reached in and pulled Mia out. He set the girl down. She quickly found Hannah and wriggled in behind her.
“What now?” Hannah said.
The men exchanged glances. The younger guy pointed toward a door.
“In there,” he said.
“You first,” she said.
He pointed his gun at her. “You don’t give the orders here.”
She thought about taking it a step further, forcing the men to make her move. Then she felt Mia’s grip on her hand. The soft touch encouraged her to cooperate. The moment would come when one of the men would slip up, she figured. They underestimated her. A big mistake. It was only a matter of time before she would claim vengeance.
She passed the man and opened the door. The room was dark and musty. Dim light filtered through the painted glass. A half-inch of dust coated everything. It didn’t appear that anyone lived in the house. She reached out and felt along the wall. She flipped the light switch, but nothing happened.
“No power here,” the guy said. “Move inside.”
Hannah pulled Mia along with her as she entered the house through the kitchen. A pile of dishes lingered in the sink. She didn’t get close enough to see if they were dirty or clean, but if the smell was to be an indication, they hadn’t been washed previously.
“Keep moving,” the guy said.
She felt the tip of his pistol in the middle of her back. She pushed Mia forward and continued through the kitchen into an empty room.
“Up the stairs.”
They turned and headed up a flight, round a corner, up another flight.
“Down the hall. Last room on the right.”
She followed the directions, came to a closed door. She reached out and turned the handle. A burst of stale air escaped the room. Inside, there were two beds with no sheets and a rug in between them. The room was empty otherwise. The window on the wall was covered with dark drapes pulled tight. Not a single sliver of light penetrated through.
“Go in.”
She ushered Mia through the doorway and toward one of the beds. The girl settled down on the edge of the bed. Hannah took the other.
The guy followed them in. “There’s a battery operated light in the corner. Don’t dare open the drapes. We’ve got someone across the street watching. So help me God, if you do, I’ll beat you.”
Hannah said nothing. Mia sniffled.
“We’ll be up in a little bit with food and to let you use the restroom. Don’t even think about trying to open the door. It’ll be locked, anyway.”
“How long are you going to keep us here?”
“Until they tell me to move you.”
“Who?”
The guy did not respond. He wagged his right index finger, took a step back, pulled the door closed. Hannah heard the lock turn into place. She resisted the urge to check the door knob. Mia didn’t, though. The girl got up and raced toward the door. She grabbed the handle and turned and pulled.
There was a banging from the other side. “I said don’t touch the damn door.”
Mia jumped back and started to cry. Hannah reached out for her, pulled her onto the bed and held her tight.
“We’ll be out of here soon, sweetie. Don’t you worry. We’ll be home soon.”
CHAPTER 58
“So what have you been doing?” Sinclair said.
Clarissa looked at the floor, said nothing.
“You don’t know how to respond anymore?” he said.
“I can get it out of her,” Randy said.
“Shut up, Randy,” Sinclair said.
Clarissa thought through a half-dozen scenarios intended to get her out of the van and away from the men. None logically ended with the result she hoped for. For now, her best bet was to remain silent, still, and see what Sinclair wanted with her. Would he slip up? Say something to give her a clue? Not likely, she thought.
“You know I have ways of making you talk, Clarissa. Think back to the first time we met.”
She didn’t have to think hard. The encounter had become ingrained deep in her psyche. There wasn’t a week that passed where she didn’t awake in a cold sweat thinking about Sinclair’s needle.
“It doesn’t have to come to that, child. I just have a few questions for you. But, as always, it is up to you how we proceed.”
Clarissa thought it over for a moment. She knew, no matter what, Sinclair would get the truth from her. He’d get it through any means necessary, if need be. She had prepared herself for this moment long ago. She figured this conversation would occur over the phone, which would have made her less afraid of the possible results.
“Well?”
“What do you want to know?”
“How did you get here?”
“How did you find me here?”
He grinned, traced his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “You first.”
She glanced from Sinclair to Randy, who looked on, bemused. Her stomach knotted at the possible reasons he was with them.
“Spiers met me on the train. I spotted him early on. He approached and identified himself. It became clear that I had little choice but to remain with him.”
“He’s a good agent,” Sinclair said.
“Yeah, well, anyway he got a call. Told me plans had been changed. We weren’t in Paris for long before we took another train to Brussels. There we met two women and a kid and escorted them to a small village. Spiers was to watch over them.”
“Who gave him this job?”
Clarissa shrugged, said nothing.
Sinclair studied her for a moment. He didn’t need a needle to determine whether or not she was telling the truth. She knew he saw through her lie.
“Go on,” he said.
“We went to this old house outside an old village. The next morning, I went into town for some milk, coffee, you know, stuff for breakfast. A car stopped in front of the store, then disappeared.”
“What kind of car?”
“Mercedes or BMW, I guess. You know I don’t care about cars. It was sleek and sliver and had dark tinted windows. It was foggy out, misty. I couldn’t see the house until I was close. I saw that same car there, in the driveway. I approached through a field. One of the men came outside. I waited, then attacked and took him out.”
“Took him out?”
She looked away. “Temporarily, I suppose. He was gone when I went back outside.”
“What happened when you went inside?”
“I found Spiers dead. Don’t think he even had a chance to defend himself. Then I killed the second man.”
“Do you know who these men were?”
She shook her head.
“Could you identify them if you saw a picture?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s all a blur. The guy outside, I never saw his face without blood all over it. The guy inside, I only saw him for a moment. Erin was shot—”
“Who?”
“Erin, one of the women, she was shot. We tended to her and got her out of there. At that point, I didn’t know whether or not the guy would come back in or what was going on.”
Sinclair nodded. He looked away and eased back in his seat. Randy continued to stare at her. She averted her eyes toward the solid side panel to her left.
“So why didn’t you call me?” Sinclair said. He remained seated forward.
“I was scared,” she said.
“Scared of what?”
“Your reaction.”
“How did you expect me to react?”
“I figured you’d be angry.”
“Why would I have been angry?”
“Because I wasn’t in Paris. I’d left, possibly blowing everything we’d been working toward. It could have ruined the in we’d built with Naseer and his men. So many people have put in so many hours to get us this far. I’d hate to be the one to destroy that.”
Sinclair nodded, said nothing.
“I knew I had to tell you, but I wanted to figure out if things were still OK with Naseer first.”
“Well that won’t be much of a problem since he’s dead.”
“What? When did that happen?”
“Last night. But he had a contingency plan and he still has men he trusted who can run the operation. And yes, you are going to figure out whether or not we still have our connections with his group. And if we don’t, you’ll be the one paying the price. You’ll be going in unsupported.”
Clarissa said nothing. His words had been intended to threaten or scare her. They didn’t. She had been prepared to walk into the lion’s den, alone and unarmed. The fact that Naseer was no longer there might make it easier. Or harder, depending on who stepped up and took over.
“One last thing,” Sinclair said.
Clarissa looked up.
“Why did you continue to help those women? Even today, you were with them. Why?”
Something about the way he looked at her told her that he knew. Maybe it was the twitching of his fingers or the intense burning in his good eye. Regardless, she decided to come clean.
“Jack,” she said.
“Noble?”
“Yeah.”
“Go on.”