by A. S. French
She turned the shower to the highest it would go, the pressure so strong it could peel the paint off the walls, and stepped out and into the rest of the washroom. She moved quickly, checking the other cubicles. A brush or comb, perhaps a discarded earring, any of them would help with her escape. A pair of scissors would be perfect. But the showers were spotlessly clean. She stepped away from them and towards the toilets, pushing doors open and running her fingers under the bowls and delving into the cisterns. Nothing. The escape map in her mind was shrinking by the second. Some exquisite refinement in the architecture of her brain told her not to panic. Other opportunities would be on the horizon.
‘We have to go.’ Laurel banged on the door as she shouted. Astrid waited two minutes before turning the water off, enjoying what might be her last minutes of freedom. As she strode from the showers, she didn’t think about towels or clean clothes. She stood there naked and wet, wondering if her appearance would affect Laurel. Hoping it would for several reasons, but Lee’s face was unmoving. Towels draped across her arms. ‘We haven’t got much time.’ She held out two cream coloured towels.
‘You’ve got plenty of time.’
Astrid shook her body like a dog crawling from a bath, her lengthy hair flying around her head, splashing Lee and getting her immaculate suit wet. She was only a few feet away from Laurel. She assumed the good religious woman would avert her gaze, but she didn’t, never taking her eyes from Astrid’s athletic physique and the way her skin glistened under the fluorescent light. Laurel handed her the towels, but didn’t leave.
‘I need something to wear, unless you want me to parade around naked?’
How wonderful that would be.
‘There are fresh clothes for you outside. We have to go.’
Astrid took the small towel to dry her hair. She did a cursory brush with the cloth over her head before doing the same with the larger towel across her chest and stomach. The water cooled against her skin as she dried from the bottom of her foot to the top of her thigh, all the time keeping her eyes fixed on Laurel’s unmoving face.
‘Okay, let’s get this started.’
She threw both towels at Lee and walked outside to grab the regulation Agency garments she expected, surprised to see a set of her own clothes waiting for her: skinny jeans, orange blouse, and matching cream coloured underwear. Laurel exited without the towels.
‘I went to your house for those.’
Astrid stared at Laurel and reconsidered her initial thoughts. Earlier, she’d blushed at mild flirting; now, she didn’t flinch at Astrid’s nakedness: the woman was a curious enigma.
‘Did you have a good nosey around?’
‘No. Other agents had searched your house.’
‘Of course, they had.’
‘How do you even get those on?’ Laurel asked as Astrid pushed her legs into the jeans.
‘The tighter, the better.’ Astrid buttoned her blouse. She tried the pockets of the trousers, expecting nothing, and was unsurprised when she was right. The jacket she’d been wearing when they’d brought her in, with its many zips, would be useful. ‘I expect I’ll be getting my jacket when I leave.’ Laurel ignored her and removed a set of handcuffs from her pocket. Astrid sighed. ‘I guess it’s time, then.’
She held out her arms, her mind racing through the chances of escape: now, in the building, zero; when she reached her destination, zero. Her only chance, slim that it was, would be during transportation.
Laurel brushed her skin as she slipped the restraints on to Astrid, the cold metal of the cuffs sending a tiny shiver across her flesh. They walked through the main office again, turning at the lifts, then down a corridor towards the exit.
‘It’s time to go, Astrid.’
Astrid stared at her; Lee wouldn’t be the problem. The two armed guards posed the biggest challenge. The Agency always used ex-SAS as their muscle. They would sit opposite her in the van, weapons pointed at her chest, their eyes never moving from her. Her escape might be possible if they were overconfident and didn’t realise who she was. Another potential route appeared on the map in her head.
She formulated the plan as they stepped out of the room, an idea quickly consigned to the rubbish heap when six guards walked towards her. The Agency was not messing around. As the security surrounded her, she thought again about how that glass with her fingerprints on it ended up next to a dead body.
Getting the glass was easier than I expected. The ferocious hot weather helped. They said on the news it was the hottest in southern Europe for more than a decade, so she sat outside for breakfast on both days. It was a little cafe specialising in Czech dishes, not the commercial western junk dotted around the main road: the unappetising burgers, deep-fried chicken and underground sandwiches. Not like the place I frequented, opposite her and across the street, with its American menu of limited options, zero taste and a million calories.
She spent forty minutes there each morning, no more or less, partaking of scrambled eggs, toast, local tea and the cafe’s homemade lemonade; the empty lemonade glass I took and left in Agent Dark’s hotel room. As soon as she paid and wandered off down to the river, I was across the street, sitting at the same table, slipping the evidence into my bag, dark shades and hat keeping my features away from the sun and anybody who might stare at me too closely.
My confidence had grown after Berlin, so I got a ticket for the same journey to Prague she took, sitting three carriages behind her in first-class. She was in with the proles. I had no fear she would wander through the train and find me there, but the thought of it made my skin shiver with tension and excitement.
First-class wasn’t worth the extra payment, all you got was more legroom. The four-hour journey allowed me time to dwell on what I’d achieved in Manchester and Berlin, and to look forward to what was to come.
I was only a few hundred feet behind her at Prague station, able to get close enough to hear her give the address of the hotel to the glum-looking taxi driver, smiling to myself when I found it was near mine. Agent Dark stayed further away, but that was for the best, limiting the chances of her stumbling into anyone she shouldn’t, apart from me.
13 Heart of Glass
Astrid took faltering steps down the stairs to the garage. They didn’t use the lift because it was too small. The only sounds were boots hitting the concrete and the cogs inside her head working through the gears. She stumbled between two slabs of Agency meat, a security protocol reserved for only the worst prisoners. Enough cold sweat dripped from her bodyguards for her to guess they’d waited around all day.
‘You guys stink.’ She wanted a reaction but got nothing.
How well trained are you?
When they reached the bottom, Laurel pushed the door open. Astrid searched the dark corners of her brain to find her escape map torn into a thousand pieces.
The van was just ahead, back doors wide apart and waiting for them. Two guards climbed into the vehicle, checking the insides. Laurel followed them with Astrid, then the rest of the security. Astrid sat next to Laurel, with four guards opposite, while the other two were near the door. She considered escape, but it appeared impossible. If she was lucky, she could wrestle a weapon from one of them, but there wasn’t enough room to do anything beyond injuring one guard.
Kids will ruin your life.
The flash of Lawrence’s voice inside her head sent electric tendrils into her stomach, so she lurched to the side before Laurel could catch her. She tried to push the memory into the abyss at the pit of her gut, but it was hopeless, an image of his face burning through the back of her eyes.
‘I should’ve killed him when I had the chance,’ she whispered into the metal stuck to her head. If she’d done that when she was fifteen, how different would her life have been?
‘What?’ Laurel said. The van jerked forward and pulled away. Lawrence continued to grin at her from the shadows of her mind. Astrid unglued her face from the wall and turned to Laurel.
‘I said I’m innocen
t.’
At least of these crimes.
‘I’m sorry.’ Laurel spoke as the van picked up speed.
‘Sorry for what?’
‘The way they treated you in there.’
‘Which part, being stuck in isolation for eternity or the façade you put me through?’
‘All of it, and...’ Laurel hesitated, watching the guards staring at them through their masks and security goggles.
‘And?’
‘And I think you’re innocent.’
‘I’d prefer an automatic rifle.’
She shot the guards a mischievous smile. Lawrence lived inside her head, whistling some awful nursery rhyme which signalled him taking his belt to her. After a time, she’d grown to prefer the belt to his fists; it seemed more impersonal. Now she had a complicated relationship with leather.
‘Why would anybody do this to you?’ It was the question on everybody’s lips.
‘Either somebody hates me, or…’ a thought struck Astrid like a lightning bolt.
‘Or what?’
They hit a bump, and everyone jumped a few inches in the air. She ruminated on what a perfect opportunity it would have been if there weren’t so many damn guards there.
‘Are you convinced by the investigation into the murders?’ She continued to stare at the men opposite her. The shunt in the road indicated their reflexes were lacking for professionals. It gave her a tiny slither of hope, helped by the fact Laurel appeared to be on her side. ‘Be honest.’
‘It’s as you mentioned. Most of the evidence is circumstantial. And I don’t think Agent Lincoln is qualified to be part of it. Or me.’
‘Lincoln hates me because I turned his advances down a long time ago.’
‘That seems… overly sensitive.’
‘I might have broken his nose.’
‘Oh.’
‘So, either somebody detests me with a passion, or we have an Agency-wide conspiracy, and someone wants me gone.’
Astrid’s mind returned to Director George Cross and the plans they’d devised a year ago. Her friend’s warm smile pushed the image of Lawrence and his vile whistling from her skull.
‘Why would that be?’ Laurel said.
‘I’ve made plenty of enemies over the years, so it’s difficult to pick out a name, but a few things could narrow it down.’
As they talked, a smaller version of Astrid scrambled around inside her skull, throwing maps into the air to find something to help. The Agency had two secure units close to the main building, each an hour away in opposite directions. It meant the best opportunity would be thirty minutes into the journey when they were equal distance from any backup. It was bad enough with six of them in the van, but reinforcements would be the end of her.
‘What would narrow it down?’ Laurel shifted in her seat.
‘Whoever it is, they’re ruthless, clever and with access to plenty of resources.’
‘Are they working on their own?’
‘Considering the logistics of what happened in Europe, I wouldn’t rule it out, but it seems unlikely. Five murders with no clues, and then the worst investigation team, no offence, gathered for the case, and all when Director Cross has disappeared.’ Astrid struggled to identify who hated her so profoundly.
‘Is it possible your father is responsible?’
She would only have been more shocked if Lee had suggested Santa Claus as the designer of her current fate, not because she hadn’t considered Lawrence as the culprit, but because Laurel had too.
‘I haven’t seen him in over ten years.’ Astrid’s voice was dry, the back of her throat craving water. ‘Why and how would he do this now?’
Every one of Astrid’s words was thick with scepticism. Dozens of lights illuminated the van, but it was as if darkness hovered below the roof. Her shoulders stiffened as her eyes narrowed, ready to broach a subject difficult to talk about.
‘Maybe because of what happened between the two of you.’ Laurel dodged around the specifics. Bitterness crept over Astrid’s face.
‘You think he hates his younger daughter because…’
She wouldn’t make this easy for Laurel. It wasn’t easy for her, so why should it be for anyone else?
‘He’s a callous and conscienceless brute,’ Laurel said.
Astrid laughed at the words, surprised to find humour in anything connected to him.
‘You’re quoting me now?’
Laurel’s voice wavered. ‘I remember it from your file. It was the only thing you told the Agency therapists about him.’
‘They didn’t want to know; most of them, anyway.’ A crop of disappointments grew in her memories, but she scythed them down swiftly. ‘All they cared about was getting me into the best shape as quickly as possible to work for them. I was eighteen, my childhood over, and none of it mattered anymore. They told me to forget the past and concentrate on the future. So I did.’
‘You can never abandon your past, Astrid.’ Once again, she observed something lurking behind the younger woman’s eyes. ‘Your father lost his career, his reputation. He could have blamed you for that.’ Laurel pushed beyond her hesitancy.
Astrid laughed louder than she wanted, a raucous noise originating from the pit of her stomach. It was a cold laugh, enough to chill the bones. None of the guards reacted.
‘He did blame me for it. Twenty-five years as a copper, respect and admiration everywhere he went. And then he lost it all in an instant because of some girl and her wild accusations.’
A flame of scarlet crept in a swift diagonal across Astrid’s cheeks. Her voice was shaky, nails digging into her palms. She cursed herself as more submerged emotions rose from the shadows in her mind.
‘It wasn’t just some girl. It was his daughter; it was you.’
‘Well, thank you, agent. I’m glad I’ve got you around to keep me informed about my life, especially now it’s all gone to shit.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Laurel looked like a child saddened by the death of a pet. ‘What about the people you worked with before you joined the Agency, the criminal gang who left you to rot in prison?’
Memories of Ramon Sheen drifted into Astrid’s head as something hit the vehicle, sending ripples through the van like a bowl of jelly. Then a large object battered the side, throwing her and Laurel into the guard opposite.
Her training kicked in, holding up her arm so it received most of the force as she fell into the synthetic fibre protecting the man. The cuffs hung loose on her wrists as instinct took over. She grabbed his jacket and threw him to her left, where he nose-dived into the guards at the door. Her attention switched to the right without a moment’s hesitation. Grabbing hold of the confused man’s weapon, she pushed it into his chin. He let go of it. Astrid turned the gun on to the last two guards and shook her head at them.
‘Throw your guns down.’
There would only be a split second before the others behind regained their composure. Astrid didn’t know what was happening outside, but she was aware this could be her only chance to escape. Before she acted, they were hit again, the vehicle spinning and rolling over. She was dizzy as her eyes scanned the van’s insides while they continued rotating like a motorised guinea pig ball.
She tried to grab hold of the sides as people kept on falling around her. Laurel flapped at the bulky arms of the nearest security guard. There was a pause as they moved, before the final fall and crash which smashed a massive dent into the side of the van. Eight bodies tumbled over as if inside a drunken washing machine.
Astrid reacted before anybody else, throwing both arms over her head for protection, landing next to Laurel, whose eyes were glazed. Lee moaned as tiny bits of blood dripped from a cut above her eye. Astrid had no time for concern, using the confusion to check on the rest of the guards. Before she could react, the back doors opened.
‘Follow me.’
It was a voice thick and heavy behind the mask, a male physique underneath the uniform of dark clothes. ‘And bring Lee with you.’<
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Astrid’s senses recovered before anybody else’s. Grabbing hold of Laurel, she dragged the unsuspecting agent with her. She climbed over displaced guards and jumped out the van. A large black SUV waited for them, doors open, its front dented and a crack in one of the side windows.
‘This could be the Reaper?’ Laurel snapped awake and wiped the blood from her eyes.
‘I’d rather take my chances with him than stuck in a high-security prison.’
Astrid didn’t give a second thought to Laurel’s safety and pushed her into the SUV. She was about to follow when a shadow loomed behind her in the reflection of the window. She moved to one side as a clenched fist missed her by inches and struck the car with a thump. Astrid swivelled her hips and brought her arm into the neck of her attacker. The guard dropped to the ground like a stone.
Before she could praise herself for her quick reactions, something hard hit her across the knees. She smashed her hip against the concrete, rolling to the side while a bloke stuck to her like glue. He’d lost his gun, but had a knife pointed at her throat. Aiming to plunge it into her, but he hesitated. His wavering was his undoing as she lifted her arms and grabbed his wrist. She pushed it back, bone snapping as the wind blew around her head. She flung him from her as he cried, lifting up and towards the van.
Astrid jumped into the car, falling into Agent Lee. It sped off before the back doors closed, and the Agency van disappeared in the distance. She peered out the window, hoping to get a sense of location, but the gloom meant they could have been anywhere on the outskirts of London.
‘Who are you?’ Laurel was more curious about their new friend's identity than Astrid, who focused on overpowering him if she needed to. Her safety odds had improved considerably in the last five minutes, but the danger was still present. The driver didn’t answer, cutting back on the speed as they entered a part of the road with more traffic, and more cameras.