The Finish Line r5-5

by Cliff Ryder

  "He had to go to the bathroom." The boy wrinkled his nose. "He smelled bad."

  "Smelled bad, huh?" Maggie smiled, in spite of how she felt. "Like poo?"

  The boy grinned at the forbidden word and nodded, his head bouncing up and down.

  "Jeremy!" A woman, obviously the boy's mother, swooped in like a mother hawk on one of her errant young, grabbing his hand and almost pulling him off the seat in her mingled relief and dismay. "Miss, I'm terribly sorry if he was bothering you. You are in so much trouble, young man!"

  Bothering me? More like saving my life, Maggie thought as her head cleared. "Actually, your son and I were having a delightful conversation, weren't we?"

  He nodded hesitantly, going along with the story now that she wasn't going to turn him in.

  The mother, a harried-looking woman with dark circles under her eyes and two other small children in tow, smiled tightly. "Well, come along, children, back to our seats."

  "Ma'am — there is one thing you could do for me, if you can." Maggie's voice stopped the woman in her tracks as she was about to herd her brood into the next car.

  "Yes?"

  "Would you happen to have a nail clipper I might borrow for a moment?"

  Puzzlement creased her pinched features, but she rummaged in her purse. "Um, here." She held out a pair of child's safety scissors. "Will these do?"

  "I think so." Maggie bent over and, hiding her actions from view, placed the scissor edge against the armrest and pressed down with all of her strength on the tough plastic tie. For a moment, nothing happened, then the metal blade sunk into the plastic and the restraint began to give. With one final push, she snapped through it. Straightening, she gave the scissors back to the mother while flexing the suddenly tingling fingers on her numb left hand. "Thank you very much." The mother raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, just hurried her children through the door.

  Maggie winked at Jeremy as he was hustled out of the compartment, then shook her head, trying to clear it. The stuffed-cotton sensation was receding, but she still felt off, as if she were a half second out of step with the rest of the world. She flagged down a passing conductor. "Sir, how far are we from Paris?"

  "We shall be arriving at the station in approximately twenty-five minutes, miss."

  "Thank you." After he left, she dug the flash drive out from between the two seat cushions, then looked around for her laptop.

  Of course he's got it. I wouldn't leave it out in the open, either, she realized. Just to be sure, she checked the top luggage rack, but came up empty. Her carefully crafted plan of hacking into the train's control systems and stopping it in Calais to throw off her pursuers was shot to hell, and now she also had to figure out how to get her laptop back. Although Carlos couldn't get into it, there was every chance that the people back at his headquarters could, and that simply couldn't happen.

  Pushing out of the chair, she rose to her feet, nearly falling over as the rush of blood to her head made her world go white for a moment. Leaning against the wall until the feeling passed, she walked unsteadily into the aisle bisecting the rows of seats. Ignoring the odd looks from other passengers, she made her way to the bathroom, which was occupied, with several people waiting impatiently for it. Maggie couldn't decide on whether to wear an innocent or pained expression, so she settled for the pained one as she approached. "Taking a long time?"

  "Bloody git's been in there for more than ten minutes, so yeah, you could say that!" The first man in line, a ruddy-faced Englishman in shorts and a short-sleeved, flower-print shirt, looked as if he was about to kick the door in.

  "Oh dear, that's my fiance in there, and I think the meal may not have agreed with him," she said. "Perhaps we should get some help — he might have passed out."

  "Hey, here comes someone." The group, united behind Maggie, stopped a conductor and explained the situation to him. The short, balding and bespectacled man, immaculate in his neat uniform, looked as if they might have asked him to carry a dead squirrel around for the rest of the day when they suggested he open the door. He agreed to knock first and check on the occupant before doing anything else. Stepping up to the door, he rapped on it with his knuckles while glancing up and down the cars as if afraid he would be overheard. "Sir? Excuse me, sir? Is everything all right?"

  After a few seconds, they all heard a strained and weak voice. "I'm fine…thank you. I just…need a moment…oh, God!" The exclamation was followed by a series of distinctly unhealthy sounds that caused everyone near the door to shy away.

  Maggie did her best not to laugh. "Oh, sir, I'm so worried about him. Can you please open the door?"

  The conductor exchanged a stricken look with the Englishman, who appeared ready to take charge. "Miss, if your fiance says he is fine, then perhaps we should…"

  "Oh, my God!" The cry from inside the resfroom snapped everyone to attention.

  "Or maybe he needs help before something worse happens." Maggie frowned and leaned into the conductor, lowering her voice. "I'd hate for the train company to be held liable because prompt treatment wasn't given to him."

  Those magic words did the trick. "Very well, I'll open the door, but perhaps it would be best if you examined him first, miss."

  "My, er, pleasure." She waited for the conductor to produce a small key and unlock the folding door. Not knowing what to expect, Maggie took a deep breath and held it before opening the door. Even so, the smell that wafted out made everyone recoil, stepping back from the offending stench, even though there was no place to hide from it in the vicinity.

  Carlos was huddled inside, all his former suavity — along with everything else liquid — drained out of him. His once immaculate wool trousers were now puddled around his ankles, and a fine sheen of sweat gleamed on his brow. He looked up in panic and embarrassment, his eyes widening upon seeing her. "How did you get free? What do you think you are doing?"

  Maggie spotted her laptop case on the floor in front of him. "Getting this first." She leaned over and snatched the case off the floor. Carlos tried to lunge for her, but his state of undress, as well as a fresh attack of flatulence, followed by more liquid sounds, forced him to stay on the toilet.

  "You did this to me!" he shouted.

  "Of course I did. Turnabout is fair play, don't you think?" She slid the door shut saying, "You'd better stay in there until you're finished, love."

  Carlos frantically waved at the people outside the bathroom. "Conductor! Conductor! Help me, please! I've been drugged…"

  Maggie closed the door and leaned on it. "I'm afraid he's becoming a bit irrational. He's always been afraid of enclosed spaces. I have an idea — let him know that you've sent for medical help. I'll be right back." Without waiting for a reply, she trotted off into the next cars, looking for a familiar, elderly couple.

  She found them three cars down, holding hands and gazing out at the scenery. Maggie cleared her throat. "Excuse me…"

  "Yes? Oh look, Joseph, it's that nice young woman that helped me in the buffet car. What is it, dear?"

  "I'm so sorry to bother you. I'm afraid that my fiance has become a bit agitated during the trip. While I was collecting your medicine bottles, I happened to notice that you have some Valium. I wouldn't normally ask this of a perfect stranger, but he's growing increasingly restless, and I'm worried about trying to calm him down."

  The woman was already rummaging through her cavernous purse. "Of course, my dear, I understand completely…Now let me see, where did I put that?"

  "He's usually so calm, but something about this trip has just brought out the worst in him. It would just be to settle his nerves. I would be very grateful."

  The woman dug out the plastic container, and laboriously unscrewed the cap, her wrinkled fingers trembling with the effort. "All right, I think one should do, don't you?"

  "Well, he's a big man, so I'm not really sure." Maggie said.

  The woman's lips pursed. "Be careful, dearie, too many at once might knock him right out."

&n
bsp; Maggie leaned down, her face a mask of weary exasperation. "At this point, that might not be such a bad thing."

  The woman discreetly pressed a few pills into her palm. "I understand completely. These should settle him down soon enough, and then you two will have a better trip afterward."

  "I'm sure we will." Maggie held the pills loosely in her hand, stopped to get a bottle of water from the buffet car and headed back to the bathroom. Along the way, she checked the pills. They were round and blue, with a line scored through the middle for breaking them in half. Nothing identified the type of medication.

  Back at the restroom, she held out her hand to the conductor. "Here, a doctor suggested that we give these to him. It's an antidiarrhea medication. He needs to take all three at once."

  The conductor examined the pills briefly, and Maggie's heart almost skipped a beat when she thought he might recognize what they were. She cracked the water bottle open. "Don't worry, he doesn't have any allergies. These should take care of the problem."

  "All right — if the doctor suggested it." The conductor cracked the door open again, leaning away from the new stench wave that rolled out. "Sir, we've consulted with a physician, and he has suggested that you take these pills for your — condition."

  Although clearly in pain, Carlos was also suspicious. "Does — did she have anything to do with this?"

  The conductor glanced at Maggie in surprise, and she twirled a finger near her temple in the universal "crazy" sign, then shook her head.

  "It's better if I'm not involved," she whispered.

  The conductor leaned in again. "Ah, no, one of our other staff located this person."

  "All right…all right."

  "I'll pass the bottle of water in to you first, then the pills, okay?"

  The conductor passed the water into the restroom, then followed it up with the medication. Maggie held her breath, hoping that in the dim light and because of his condition Carlos wouldn't look at the pills too closely. She tried to detect what might be going on inside, but heard only silence.

  "All right, I've taken all of them. When will they begin to work?"

  The conductor looked back at Maggie, who whispered, "Twenty minutes."

  "They should take effect in about twenty minutes. Perhaps…perhaps you should remain in there until they have taken hold, so to speak."

  "That's…probably a good idea…"

  Maggie wasn't sure, but his voice sounded less steady, as if the pills were already affecting him. Probably just wishful thinking on my part, she thought.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid that I will have to ask you all to return to your seats, as we are going to arrive at the Gare du Nord station in just a few minutes. Miss, I will have to ask you to return to your seat, as well. I'm sure your fiance will be fine, and there is a hospital right next to the station, in case you would like to have him examined. You will see the signs as you walk onto the platform."

  "Thank you, sir, I think we will do just that. You've been most kind and helpful, and I appreciate everything you've done."

  "It was my pleasure, miss, and I hope that your fiance is feeling better soon."

  "I'm sure he'll be just fine. If you don't mind, I'll just sit here near the lavatory, to keep an eye on him."

  "Very well, miss." The conductor hurried off and Maggie sank into the nearest seat, across from two scruffy, backpacking students who were fast asleep, their heads resting next to each other, oblivious to the commotion only a few yards away. Envying their carefree freedom, Maggie leaned back in the seat, but dared not close her eyes, waiting for the second those doors opened, and she could get the hell off the train.

  22

  It was a feat of driving and navigation that Anthony would never be able to duplicate for the rest of his life.

  After they had barely caught the high-speed ferry that was minutes from heading out of port — which cost Anthony an extra fifty pounds to ensure they got on — they had docked at Calais fifty-seven minutes later, and he had driven the SUV onto the broad expressway that would take them right into Paris. Even though the posted speed limit was 100 miles per hour, with the updated GPS speed camera detector and radar detector, they were able to drive an average of 125 miles per hour, weaving in and out of the traffic like madmen. They had hit the outskirts of Paris in ninety minutes, rather than the two and a half hours the distance would normally take.

  Anthony had been behind the wheel the entire time, deftly guiding the vehicle across the lanes, slowing only when they detected a speed camera or hidden police officer. It was just as well they hadn't been pulled over; given Anthony's mood, he would have been just as likely to shoot the officer and damn the consequences. However, the heavier traffic as they plunged into Paris proper had slowed them to a crawl, and even now he wasn't sure they were going to make it to the station on time. He stared straight ahead, as if he could make the traffic part by sheer force of will. "Come on, come on!"

  The other three men remained silent, all aware that it would be best to let Anthony concentrate. They were crawling south on Barbes Boulevard, waiting for when it turned into the Boulevard de la Magenta, which ran right past the train station. At last, they found themselves outside a large hospital complex, and then they saw the large, neoclassical face of the Gare du Nord train station.

  "Time."

  Liam checked his watch. "Eleven fifty-three. If the train was running on time, it arrived three minutes ago."

  "Well, let's hope they weren't."

  "Do you think the tracker might help us here?" Carl asked from the backseat.

  "Sure, if you want to carry it so I can read the damn thing while we walk through the station — that won't be conspicuous at all. Besides, there's too much interference in a place like that. It would be too hard to ensure I was receiving the right signal."

  Liam rolled his eyes. "According to my street map, there's parking on this side street. Take the next right."

  Anthony turned onto the small avenue, and sure enough, there was a small, multilevel parking structure on his left. "Probably packed full of commuters and damn tourists," he muttered. But their luck held. A Volkswagen hatchback was just pulling out of a space in the lowest level, right near the exit. Anthony claimed the space as soon as it was empty, cutting in front of a sedan loaded with what looked like students who had been waiting for it. They pulled up, looking ready to complain, but one look at the four hard-faced, grim-eyed men who got out and simply stared at them, and the students slunk away to find another space.

  Anthony brushed past Carl and headed to the back of the SUV, opening the back door and removing a small square of carpet on the floor of the empty cargo compartment, revealing a recessed keypad. Entering a seven-digit code, a panel rose slightly with a hydraulic hiss, allowing him to pull it up with his fingers. Anthony didn't need to look up to know that Liam, Carl and Gregor had established a perimeter, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be watching.

  He distributed pistols, silencers and magazines first. "Carl, you and I know what our target looks like. She should still be in the station, possibly meeting someone here, or else continuing on by herself. In case you need to clear a path quickly or create a distraction, use these, but only if necessary." He handed a pair of small fragmentation minigrenades to each team member, pocketing two himself. "Remember, use them only if necessary. We should be able to acquire the target and remove her without attracting undue attention."

  Carl hefted the golf ball-sized grenades for a moment before slipping them into his cargo pants pockets. "What if we see any of those fuckers from that other team?"

  "If you spot them, and they've already acquired her, then follow to a position where you can engage without attracting attention. If you can take them out, do so — especially the black man or his dark-haired partner." Anthony slapped a magazine into his Walther P-99, chambered a round and slipped it into the pancake holster at the small of his back. "Carl, Gregor, you're Team Two, Liam and I are Team One. Keep your earpiec
es on and active at all times. Let's move."

  Anthony led the way to the street outside, setting a ground-eating pace to the train station's main building. Liam caught up with him at the edge of the street. "Hey, boss?"

  "Mmm?" Anthony didn't look at him, as he was too busy checking traffic for a time to cross the street.

  "If we've been pulled off the case, then doesn't that mean someone else has her already?"

  Antony spared him a quick glance before heading across the wide street. "Control said she had been picked up by Aleix, but I'll bet she's already gotten away from that fuckin' poofter."

  "Okay, fair enough — but what if she didn't?"

  "If she didn't, then you just let me handle him, all right?"

  "Fine by me."

  The interior of Gare du Nord was very similar to the London train station — shops, announcements over the loudspeaker system, and people going every which way. Anthony scanned the electronic boards for the London arrival, catching the platform number. "Gate cinq, number five. Team Two, head down to the far end and work your way up. We'll start from here."

  The tall Russian and lean American disappeared into the crowd, heading along the main wall of the building. Anthony and Liam watched them go for a moment, then turned and began checking faces in the crowd, looking for their target before she spotted them.

  23

  "Louis, I know…"

  "There is a certain way we do things here in Paris, and having a Midnight Team gallivanting through the city is not one of them!"

  "Louis, calm down. Look, I understand that you're annoyed by the short notice. Obviously we'd prefer to handle this with local operatives…"

  "That's another thing. I wasn't even informed until your team was practically on-site, despite having agents already scrambled to intercept this woman at the station. We had to pull every string I could to get those covers set up in time."