"I doubt that's what this is about, Alex.”
"Then why was I tortured into submission and shot at? Who broke into my apartment, and why did they tell me not to meddle in their business?"
Sam stared at the ocean and eventually spoke.
"I reckon we should find out; play along with his game and wait for the next clue. See where it goes. "
"Absolutely not Sam! I think we should take it to the police. McDowell seemed reasonable enough to—"
"Not until we know more. We can't trust anyone, not even the police. Besides, what are they going to do? Put us in witness protection? Based on what evidence? I'm not even entirely sure the police can be trusted."
"What? Why not? It's Scotland Yard, Sam, and they don't take on frivolous domestic cases. They must know something we don't."
"There is no case, Alex. It's an inquiry at this stage. Think about it. This Mr. Anonymous helped us escape and managed to get us both here in one piece. He's got something else planned. Maybe another piece in the jigsaw puzzle. Something tells me there's a lot more going on here than we think and he's the key. Going to the police will be a mistake. There was a strange-looking man behind the one-way mirror at my interrogation today, and I'm pretty certain he wasn't an officer of the law—in any country."
"You could see him?"
"In the passage afterward, yes."
"What did he look like?"
"Well dressed, with an antique pewter cane. Black hair, dark eyes, about five eight and the authority to call the shots. The weird thing is I got the feeling he wanted me to see his face."
"Did he say anything?"
"No, he didn't have to. His eyes said it all."
"Sorry for bailing on you this morning but I knew you'd be fine. The police had nothing to arrest you for." Alex stifled a yawn and Sam took her in his arms.
"We'll figure it out, okay? We always do. For now, let's get some sleep. Things might be clearer in the morning."
“Where do we go from here?” Alex asked Sam the next morning as she sat peering over the brim of her coffee cup.
“We get something to eat. There’s nothing but baked beans in the pantry.”
“You’re impossible, do you know that? How can you eat at a time like this?”
“I’m just making sure our bodies are fueled and prepared for whatever might come our way today. I can’t run away from someone on an empty stomach. Come on, I know this quaint little place down the road that makes the best omelets. Besides, we have no idea how long we’ll have to be here before we receive his next instruction.”
But when Alex and Sam opened the front door and stepped out another brown envelope lay waiting at their feet.
“You might need to put that jet fuel on ice,” Alex commented as she bent to pick it up.
“Wait! What if it’s a letter bomb or there’s anthrax on it or something?”
“It’s not a bomb, silly. Is it?” Alex added suddenly doubtful that Sam might have a valid point.
“Do you want to take the chance?” Sam queried Alex as he reached into the entrance closet for a pair of winter gloves.
“None of the other envelopes posed a threat. It should be fine.”
“Well, that was before someone tried to kill us.”
Alex held her breath as Sam knelt next to the envelope and cautiously held it up to the sun before sliding the blade of his pocket knife through the fold.
“Ready?”
Alex nodded in reply and watched as Sam pulled the contents from the envelope.
“Seems we might get an early honeymoon, my love. It’s two train tickets to Paris.”
Alex took the tickets from Sam’s hand and ran her eyes over it. “It departs at eleven am—today! That’s just under three hours from now.”
“We’ll make it, just without a decent breakfast. We’ll have to grab ourselves some cheese and wine when we get to the city of love, amour,” Sam said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Have you lost your mind, Sam? We’re not getting on this train or anything else for that matter. We have no idea who’s been sending these letters much less why. Who sends photos of human organs? It’s madness. He could be leading us into a trap to finish off what he started. What if he’s one of those crazies who harvest human organs and sells them on the black market or something? We’re not going anywhere.”
“If he wanted you dead he could’ve killed you already. The hospital would have been the perfect place, come to think of it. Heck, any of these packages he’s been sending you could have killed you. I don’t think that’s his motive, Alex.”
“What happened to you trying to persuade me to take the desk job at ICCRU? All of those ’my job is too dangerous’ arguments you’ve been throwing at me for the last year. It’s too risky, Sam. It’s suicide!”
Sam folded his arms and turned as if to go back into the cottage. “Yes, you’re right. It’s too risky. I mean, what was I thinking? That ordinary people like us could potentially debunk an eighteenth-century myth and rewrite history. That’s insane. Who cares if they intentionally brought down the monarchy and murdered the future King of France? We should leave it alone.”
“Okay I see what you’re doing, and that’s not fair.”
“So it’s working? Come on, Alex. You can’t tell me you’re able to walk away from this. You love history, and besides, you’ve got me. We can do this. The way I see it, you don’t have much choice either. We can’t go back to either of our apartments.”
Sam waved the two train tickets in the air. “You know you want to. It’s Paris, Alex! The city of love. I’ll let you be my private history tutor.”
Alex turned her back to Sam and stared out at the ocean waves crashing against the steep rocky cliff below. He was right, of course. Her back was up against a wall with nowhere to turn but trust whoever had been sending these letters.
“We might be traveling to Paris, Sam, but I assure you it won’t be red wine and baguettes under the starry night sky. We could be walking straight into a trap for all we know. We’re going to need to stay alert and expect the worse.”
“So that’s a yes?” Sam grinned. “I knew you couldn’t resist. Now, perhaps we should seize the moment and get married while we’re there.”
The stern look in his fiancée's eyes as she walked around the car to open the door said it all and Sam threw his hands in the air. “What? You want to elope, so let’s do it. I can’t wait to make you my missus. It will take five minutes, ten at the most if we can get an English-speaking official.”
“Have you lost your mind, Sam Quinn? And have my new mother-in-law never speak to me again? She’s planning the wedding of the century for her only son. She will never let us live that down. I’d rather fight off the bad guys than deal with her wrath. Besides, we have no idea why we’re being sent to Paris or even by whom. Let’s focus on staying alive so we can have a wedding, okay?”
“Fine, enough with the jokes, promise. Speaking of jokes, I suppose we should put on the ridiculous disguises if we’re heading back into London. What did Mr. Anonymous give you to wear?” Sam straightened his mustache in the mirror.
“I think I’m supposed to be Dolly Parton,” Alex said amused as she pushed the last strand of her dark brown hair under the blonde wig, turning to take in Sam’s disguise.
“That means you must be Kenny Rogers.”
Sam stared at his image in the mirror. “You’re right. I thought I was Elton John. Well, then islands in the stream we are. At least now we know a bit more about Mr. Anonymous. He can’t be that young, and he loves country music.”
Chapter Six
St Pancras station was bustling with railway commuters as Alex and Sam entered. Mesmerized by its beauty, it was hard for them not to stop and admire the impressive Gothic architecture and glass ceiling.
"Do you know this station opened in 1868? It survived World War II, actually," Sam volunteered as their eyes searched the electronic display screen for the train information.
"An
d you know this how?"
"My grandfather used to tell me stories about it. This entire section here got bombed in 1941. Five bombs penetrated through the platform and the floor to the undercroft and exploded against the sidewall of the tunnel. They had to rebuild it all."
Alex scoured the station, too absorbed to commend Sam on his general knowledge and proceeded through the hall in search of an information kiosk. Trailing behind her, Sam pulled the two tickets from his pocket. "Why do women always want to stop for directions when everything is right here on the ticket? See, platform seven; I think we should take the stairs over there."
Alex didn't answer what she assumed was a rhetorical question in the first place, and the couple cautiously proceeded toward the impressive staircase in the center of the grand booking hall.
"You do of course know we're not exactly blending with the crowd in these ridiculous wigs.” Sam spoke softly.
"I know. I think once we're on board, we could take them off. I don't think anyone's following us."
"Great, it makes my head itch."
Halfway up the multitude of steps, she looked back at the ground level. With a birds-eye view, she spotted two well-dressed men in identical taupe suits on opposite ends of the hall — each pretending to read the newspaper.
"Don't look back, they're here," she alerted Sam. "Just act normally.”
"How is it they found us? There was no way anyone followed us."
"I don't know, but I don't think they've spotted us yet, Sam. Move over there, toward that group."
A group of tourists stood huddled around their tour leader on the stairs, listening intently to information on the station's history. Alex and Sam blended in amongst them, all the while keeping their eyes on the men down below. When the tour group started moving up the stairs, the pair continued along with them, relieved to have remained undetected.
"This way.” Sam ushered Alex along as the group paused for another lecture halfway to the top of the stairs. Now out of the suited men's sight, they moved quickly toward the seventh platform where the train was already waiting. As they slipped on board between the glass doors, they heard angered cries coming from the tour group on the platform behind them. Alex looked back through the train's windows and watched as the suited men hurriedly made their way to the top of the stairs, leaving a bunch of upset tourists in their wake.
"In here," Sam called out and pulled Alex into the semi-private two-seater berth allocated to their tickets. "Where's a closed compartment when you need one?" he muttered under his breath.
"I don't think they're alone, Sam. I'm certain they couldn't have spotted us from the ground floor. Not with these disguises on and hiding between the tour members," Alex commented.
"I'd agree with you. Let's hope, however many thugs there are, they didn't see us board this train. It's not like there's anywhere to hide in here."
Sam drew the blinds down over the windows and popped his head around the seating just enough to get a visual of the narrow corridor.
"So far, it's clear. I can't see anyone."
"We leave in one minute. If these guys are smart, which I think they are, they will put two and two together. Right now this is the only train to Paris, and well, since it's all about French history, this seems the obvious choice. We can only hope they don't make it on in time."
Sam pulled off his wig and mustache. "Well, one thing's for sure, I've had enough of Kenny Rogers. Dolly is welcome to stay, but Kenny dies here. Besides, if they did see us, they'd be looking out for them, not us."
Alex smiled and pulled her blonde wig off too. "You're right. Chances are they already spotted Dolly and Kenny. Here, pop this on.” She pulled two black peak caps from her backpack before reaching for the gun in her waistband. Obscured from the view of passers-by she held the gun under the small table in front of her and dropped the magazine into her hand, briefly checking it before clicking it back into place.
"Who do you suppose they are?" she asked Sam who prepared his gun too.
"I haven't the foggiest, Alex, but one thing's for sure. If Scotland Yard is involved, there's a lot more brewing here. The officer at the police station told me they arrested two of the shooters and that they had links to open Interpol cases. Her file was labeled 'top secret'. You've opened a can of worms if you ask me."
"What makes you think I opened anything? The letters came to me, remember. It wasn't by choice."
Sam leaned across the table. "The way I see it we have one way out of this and that's to find Mr. Anonymous before these guys catch us. He's the one leading us on this wild goose chase after something we're not even sure of what."
Alex nodded in agreement just as the train started moving.
"Think they made it on?"
"Don't know," Sam answered and sneaked another look down the corridor. Relieved there was no one but a rowdy group of young men still settling into their seats, he rested his head against the headrest and exhaled. "I think we escaped them."
"I wouldn't get too settled, Sam. They'll have us cornered once we start moving. It's not as if we can jump off a train moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour."
"What are we supposed to do once we reach Paris?"
Still contemplating her answer, Alex spotted the two suited men pushing their way from the adjoining carriage toward them.
"We have company, Sam. They're coming up behind you, let's go!" Alex said as she bolted from her seat in the opposite direction toward the party-spirited group of men at the end of their carriage. Their sudden departure alerted their stalkers who hurriedly set out after them. Alex squeezed her way through the noisy bachelor party that was spilling over into the narrow walkthrough, and one of them grabbed her bottom. With no time to handle the immature alpha males, she ignored it. Behind her, Sam squeezed through the already tipsy rumbustious group — his knee voluntarily colliding with the fellow's groin.
"Watch it, you fool!" The young man bellowed, folding over in pain.
Sam giggled under his breath as Alex and he slipped through the dividing doors into the next carriage, leaving the suits to fight their way through the unimpressed bachelor party.
With nowhere to go but forward the pair swiftly navigated their way through the next coach which was far more occupied than the previous one. The tourists from the stairs were pinned down by another history lesson, some of them blocking the narrow aisle as they stood closer to their guide.
"Sorry, excuse me… coming through," Alex politely pleaded her way between two chatty amply-proportioned women who stood firmly planted in the middle of the aisle.
"Thank you, ladies. Sorry for the disturbance," Sam added as he too squeezed his way through.
Whatever time they lost with the chubby sisters they managed to make up as they ran down the aisle of the next carriage which luckily was unobstructed. A full two hours travel time remained, and the front of the train loomed closer.
"In here," Alex ducked into the washrooms at the end of the next carriage pulling Sam in with her. "We'll wait for them to pass us and then slip out and head off toward the rear of the train."
"So, what then? We keep running back and forth through the train for two hours?" Sam whispered, leaning his ear against the shiny steel door.
"I'm open to suggestions. We're trapped in here, remember?"
Sam held his index finger up against his mouth as he heard the men's feet hit the steel floor outside the door. Alex cocked her gun and pointed it toward the floor, both hands firmly on the grip and ready to shoot. The partition door to the next car opened and closed, followed by silence.
"They're gone. Ready?" Sam whispered with his hand steady on the door latch.
Alex nodded, briefly flexing her fingers around her gun's grip before tightening her hold. Sam flipped the cubicle's latch off and slowly pulled the door open toward him. Without warning the door thrust against his chest and he fell back into Alex, pinning her against the washbasin behind them and sending her gun to the floor. The surprise attack left
them both scrambling to gain control, but the hard blow of a man's fist against his cheekbone made Sam fall back against Alex again, slamming her head hard against the protruding plumbing on the wall behind them. Sam fought back, blocking another incoming punch with his forearm. Finally, on his feet and off Alex, he pushed his attacker out into the open space in front of the washroom. His knee rammed hard into the suited man's side. The man attempted another underarm hook into Sam's abdomen, but again Sam blocked it. Sam delivered a forceful right hook across the man's left eye, making him stumble off balance back into the cubicle.
On cue, Alex drove her foot into the area behind their attacker's knee, bringing him to the ground in front of Sam's feet. Sam slammed his elbow hard into the nape of the guy's neck, but the man fought back and rammed his fist into Sam's groin, leaving him breathless. At that moment, Alex felt a cable come around her neck from the doorway behind her, instantly blocking off her windpipe. She reached both hands back into the second attacker's face and drove her fingernails into his flesh. The man tightened the cable around her neck, forcing her to let go. Unable to breathe, she felt the air being squeezed from her body, momentarily leaving her disorientated. In front of her, she watched as the first attacker pushed Sam's face down onto the floor, strangling him with a thin black cord. Desperate to alleviate the pressure on her throat, she tried forcing two of her fingers between the cable and her flesh but soon gave up realizing it was impossible.
She pushed her feet firmly against the doorframe and propelled her attacker backward, slamming him hard against the wall behind them. It did nothing other than releasing the cord around her neck just enough to allow the tiniest bit of air to flow into her lungs. Her attacker recovered fast and immediately set about tightening the cable around her throat again. But she stomped her heel firmly onto her assailant's foot and thrust her elbow back between his ribs, forcing him to let go of the cable. Alex flicked her head back and into her attacker's nose, leaving him with a bleeding broken nose. With her attacker now somewhat immobile on the floor behind her, she turned her attention back to where Sam was still fighting for his life inside the washroom.
The Dauphin Deception Page 5