Petra.
I ran through the main entrance to the station after Alec Reader. When I got onto the concourse I saw him pushing through a dense crowd of commuters, towards the Eurostar terminal, and sprinted after him. He’d stopped at platform 4. An electronic sign hanging from the ceiling said the next train to London was due in two minutes. The platform was packed with too many people. They were crammed tight together right up to the edge. Reader was driving his way through them like his life depended or it. He was using his size and strength to push people out of the way. He had to be trying to save someone. But who? I looked ahead of him searching for someone being attacked, but couldn’t see anything. Then the loudspeaker announced:
“The next train to arrive is the Eurostar to London at 13:30.”
It was 13:29.
I’d reached the edge of the crowd waiting for the Eurostar now. It must have been ten people deep. Alec Reader’s head and shoulders were visible up ahead. I could hear people shouting at him as he shoved them out of his way. He was almost at the platform edge. Something in the pit of my stomach told me he was heading into trouble. As I squeezed through the crowd after him, I heard the train screech towards the platform and suddenly my anxiety peaked. Somehow I knew with absolute certainty that Alec Reader was in mortal danger, and if I didn’t help him he’d die.
But what was I supposed to do? I didn’t know what danger he was in. I jerked my head left and right, searching. Then I saw him. A tall dark-skinned man with slicked-back hair and cold eyes. He wore a gray suit – with a bulge under his jacket.
He was on the front of the platform moving along the edge. Reader was about six feet away from him to his right – they were making for the same point further along the platform. Neither of them seemed to have seen the other. The hit man stopped next to a girl with a black bob, dressed in a business suit.
Then everything seemed to slow down.
He stretched out his hand towards the small of her back. The train was about twenty yards away, brakes screeching. My hand went to my mouth as I realized he was going to push her into the path of the train. His hand was almost touching her back – like a guy with his girl. Then for some reason he looked up and his face went slack.
Alec Reader had hurled himself at the killer and the girl – pushing the last few commuters out of the way. When the killer looked up, Reader was almost on him. The hit man gaped at Reader, then his cold eyes narrowed. He jerked back to the girl, and pushed his hand into the small of her back. The girl milled her arms, about trying to get her balance, while the hit man slipped away through the crowd. She was tipping forward over the platform edge. The train was seconds away. There was no way the driver would be able to stop in time. I watched, frozen to the spot, realizing she was going to be crushed to death.
At that exact moment Reader reached her, pushing the final commuter – a middle-aged businessman – to one side. He stood on the edge of the platform, chest heaving from the exertion of getting to her, beads of sweat streaming down his forehead, his eyes red and feverish. His hand jerked forward and locked onto the girl’s wrist. She snapped still – hanging at a forty-five degree angle – like the prow of Viking boat.
And I let out a long breath. He’d saved her.
Then there was a surge in the crowd. The girl and Reader were jostled and his grip slipped. She cried out and tipped forward again. The train was a thundering unstoppable steel monster almost on her now. Her feet were still on the platform. She reflexively pushed her arms in front of her to stop her fall.
No! I screamed inside. No!
Reader had fallen back when he lost his grip. He cried out “No!” echoing my thoughts, jumped forward, grabbed the girl’s arm, and pulled her back onto the platform.
A surge of relief washed through me.
Then the train pulled in and the commuters piled on as if nothing had happened. Suddenly the platform was empty except for Reader, the girl, and me. The girl was sitting on the ground looking dazed. Reader, who had fallen back when he’d saved her, was flat on his back. I held my breath for a second – then relaxed when I saw him groan, and push himself up off the ground.
He was going to be alright. Maybe I’d been wrong about the danger he was in. I couldn’t understand it. I’d been so certain. I still didn’t really understand why his well-being was so important to me. All I had was a gut feeling I couldn’t say no to – telling me it was.
Then just as he got upright Reader slapped both hands against the sides of his head and fell to his knees. My heart was is my mouth. The shock unlocked my legs and I dashed forward. When I reached him he was on his knees, groaning. His hands clasped on his temples.
My eyes stung. I reached out and touched his hand.
“Alec.” It seemed ridiculous to call him Reader.
He jerked and looked at me through bloodshot eyes. The muscles in his jaw and neck bunched, then relaxed.
“Hello again,” he said – managing a wry smile despite the obvious pain he was in.
“Are you okay?” I said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He shook his head, wincing as he did. “No. It will pass in a second.”
I nodded, insanely relieved. But I knew an army of Feds and police were searching the area. We had to get away.
“We can’t stay here,” I said, squeezing his arm.
He stared at me for a split second, then nodded and pushed himself to his feet.
“What about her?” he said, glancing at the girl.
“She’ll be fine. The Feds will pick her up in a few minutes.”
“Okay, let’s go,” he said, grabbing my hand, and pulling me toward the concourse and the main entrance at a fast walk.
By now the streets around Central Station would be swarming with Feds and police searching for Alec Reader. If Alec was caught, Cooper would interrogate him. I couldn’t that happen. I wouldn’t. Cooper thought Alec was a terrorist. He’d do anything to get what he wanted. Every minute Cooper held Alec would risk American lives. But that wasn’t the reason for the desperate compulsion I felt. It was the thought of Alec and me being separated.
We ran though the main entrance, then stopped. My breath was coming in gasps. It was raining hard now. The road in front of the station was packed with cars; fashionably dressed businessman and tourists milled on the sidewalk.
“They’ll be here soon,” I said. “Alec, you can’t let them catch you.”
He turned and looked at me. His gaze softened as our eyes met.
“I know,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
We ran from the station through the driving rain, Alec pulling me along behind him. We turned and twisted taking back alleys, turning left and right trying to shake off anyone who was following us.
We paused in Via Delle Muratte, a narrow side street near the Trevi Fountain.
I heard shouting close by.
“I want this whole area closed down – now.”
It was Cooper. He was in the next street along from ours.
“We’re not going to make it,” I said, turning to Alec.
Alec suddenly grabbed a teenager cycling by delivering newspapers. The kid looked shocked.
“Hey,” he shouted. “What are you doing?”
I could hear Cooper barking out more orders. He or one of the Feds would find us in seconds. We were sitting ducks just standing in this street. But where could we go? And why was Alec wasting time with this kid?
Alec leaned close to the kid, and spoke quietly to him for a few seconds. It was as if he had all the time in the world – and as if scores of police weren’t right on our tail. After a few seconds the kid smiled. Alec slipped him something and patted him on the back. Then the kid cycled back toward the Trevi Fountain.
“We need to hide,” said Alec.
I shook my head, bemused. “What…?”
“Come on,” he said, taking my hand in his. “We don’t have time.”
Alec turned into a narrow alley, pulling me behind him. He hit the wall
and my momentum drove me straight into his chest. I gasped at the impact, and his strong arms surrounded me. Then he put a finger on his lips.
A moment later I heard a familiar voice on the street we’d just come from. It was Uzbeke, one of the other agents.
“No sign of him, boss.”
An angry voice snapped back.
“Jesus, Uzbeke, don’t give me that. I want Reader found. We’ve got the area closed off. He has to be here. Search each of these back streets.”
“Boss, we’ve already…”
“Do it!” screamed Cooper. “Now!”
Alec’s arms enclosed me but there was nothing we could do. Cooper was going to find us.
Then I heard another voice coming from the street.
“Hey, I saw him.” It was the kid Alec had spoken to. “Big guy – looked like a soldier.”
“Where’d he go?” said Uzbeke, his voice terse.
“He ran down Via Vicenza toward the National Library. He’s probably a mile away by now.”
“Shit,” said Uzbeke. Then he shouted. “Boss, he got through the cordon.” And seconds later I heard dozens of men running – getting further way – and let out a long sigh.
“I think they’ve gone,” I said after a few minutes.
“For now,” replied Alec. “But there’s no way we’ll stay lost in the center of Rome – on the streets.”
He was right; we needed somewhere to hide. I needed somewhere I could think and work out what the hell was happening, and what to do next. My apartment was no good. That was the first place Cooper would look.
Then I turned to face him. Our eyes met. Suddenly we were in our own world again. Being in his arms felt like the safest, most natural place to be.
Could I trust this guy?
Suddenly I wasn’t sure anymore. Yes, I had these feelings but a part of me – the logical reasoning part – thought I was being ridiculous. I’d just met Alec Reader. I didn’t know anything about him – not really. Could Cooper be right? Maybe Alec was working for a splinter terror group. Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe I wanted so muc,h to believe – to have some meaning to my life – that I’d grasped at any chance however remote.
But I was still looking into Alec’s eyes like a lovesick girl.
There might be a completely logical but random reason that Alec reminded me of the dream. It didn’t mean that we were fated to be together, or that there was any bond between us. Or that we’d ever met before. It just meant that some random characteristic of his triggered the memory in me.
While I’d been thinking our faces had been moving toward each other. Now our lips were inches apart. Then I was kissing him. The sensations overwhelmed me. But the doubts wouldn’t go away. Was I just grasping at happiness? With an effort I pulled away from Alec.
“Who are you?” I said.
He shook his head. He was still holding me in his arms. I felt the heat of his body against mine. It seemed so strange that he was holding me in his arms – that he seemed like my soul mate, and like a stranger at the same time. I just couldn’t get my head around it. Someone I had never met before, someone who seemed dangerous and mysterious and a possible terrorist, if I was to believe Cooper – on the one hand. And on the other hand – someone who my heart, soul said was the person I’d been looking for all these years. The man who’d been taken from me.
“We don’t have time for this.”
I frowned. I needed a better answer. I’d lived every day with a feeling of raw emptiness. Now Alec had turned up and it had gone. But why? I couldn’t bear not knowing any longer.
“I need to know. Who are you?”
“We don’t have time,” he repeated
I dug my fingers into his hard biceps.
“We have to make time. Tell me. Where are you from? How do you know me?”
He sighed.
I pushed back away from him – but he still held me in his arms. I looked at him.
“Who are you?” I said. I was beginning to sound like a broken record, but I couldn’t let this go. I wondered what all this meant to him. Had he had the same dream? Had he felt the raw energy between us? Or was it all in my head?
I tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear, feeling vaguely ridiculous.
“Do you remember me?”
He looked down at me and hesitated. It was so strange. He was still holding me in his arms as if we were lovers, but I was asking if he even knew me.
For a brief moment I thought he was going to say yes, he remembered everything, but then he shook his head. I couldn’t stop the feeling of disappointment.
“You’re a Special Forces soldier?” I said. I was hoping to jog my memory – shake something loose by finding out more about him.
He sighed and looked down the alleyway toward the street. There was no sign of the cops. But when they found out the kid had sent them in the wrong direction they’d be back.
“I was in the British Army,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
“How did you end up in the British Army? You’re an American, right?”
He nodded – seemingly he’d given up on getting out of the alley until I was satisfied.
“My parents emigrated to the UK when I was ten.”
I stared at him. It didn’t make any sense. My instincts told me we’d met as teenagers, not children. That’s the way it felt in the dream. That we’d met and somehow I’d forgotten. But how could that have happened if he’d left the country when he was ten?
“How is that possible?”
I realized I’d said it out loud.
“What?”
I flushed. How could I explain my gut feeling without sounding insane?
“Why are you saving those people?” I said, changing tack. Maybe I’d get somewhere with a different line of questioning.
Alec took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.
“We really don’t have time for this. Your friends will be back soon. If they catch us I’ll end up in a cell. I’m guessing you don’t want that, or you wouldn’t have helped me.”
He was right. I’d made my decision probably the first time I’d laid eyes on him, and this was all rationalization.
“Come on,” he said, taking my hand and leading me toward the street. “We need to go.”
“Why are you doing this?” I said, gripping his arms.
He jerked, stopped, and flicked a glance back at me.
His gaze was so intense it made me jump.
“I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t have any choice.”
He said it with such conviction, with such pain in his voice, that I knew behind those few words was a long story – and he was right, we didn’t have time for it.
“Okay,” I said, releasing his arm. “Let’s go.”
***
He led me across town – avoiding the FBI and the police – into Pantheon Square, and through a small door up a flight of stairs.
It was an old building with no elevator, one of the buildings overlooking the Pantheon. We climbed up to the top floor. He opened a door and led me into a small room.
It was a single room with the bed directly in front of the door. Against the right wall was a washbasin with a shaving mirror. On the left was a wardrobe. Light streamed through a small window behind the bed – looking out onto the square.
We went in and he closed the door behind us.
“What now?” I said, breathing out a sigh of relief to be off the streets.
He turned and looked at me.
“We need to talk.”
***
“Tea?” he offered. “I don’t have any decent coffee.”
“Yes,” I said, grateful.
He made tea in two white mugs. It was strong and nearly orange, the way the English like it. He came over to me. I was sitting in an armchair next to the bed. He handed it to me. I took it. It was hot and sweet. I was grateful for it.
He sat down on the corner of the bed opposite me, and sipped his tea as well.
“Are you okay?” I said. “Are you in pain? Does that hurt?”
He looked up, slightly surprised or dazed. “Just a headache I get sometimes,” he said, looking a little embarrassed.
I shrugged and realized then that I hadn’t told him my name. I had the feeling that we were incredibly close like brothers or lovers or husband and wife, but we were also strangers. I’d only just found out his name was Alec Reader; beyond that I knew virtually nothing about him. And he, I suppose, knew virtually nothing about me.
I didn’t know what to do now that the danger had gone. Now that we were safe for a while at least. So I decided to focus on the case.
I still had some doubts. But I’d made my choice by helping him escape and coming to his apartment. So it made no sense to back out now. It made no sense to hide or hold anything back.
“You probably know I’m an FBI agent. My name is Petra Anderson.”
I made to shake hands with him and then pulled my hand back feeling ridiculous. I didn’t seem to know whether Alec was a stranger or my soul mate. I didn’t know how to behave with him – and kept fluctuating between extremes.
Flushing, I rushed on.
“I’m part of a team of FBI agents sent to Rome to investigate the murders of American citizens. Until you turned up we’d hit a brick wall. We weren’t getting anywhere. You’ve single-handedly saved more of them than all of us.”
He grunted. The news didn’t seem to please him.
“How do you know where to find the victims?”
He looked at me, rubbing his temple again. He didn’t answer straight away, as if he were sizing me up. There was still this feeling of electrical tension between us. But for now I chose to ignore it. He took a sip of his tea, looking at me over the top of it. Then he abruptly put the cup down.
“The short answer is that I don’t know.”
I felt a surge of anger. I’d been open and honest with him. Why couldn’t he do the same?
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
He winced slightly at my voice. He looked tired. His eyes were still red and bloodshot.
A Dangerous Liaison - Part Two Page 3