“It wouldn’t be in your check-in luggage or he wouldn’t have bothered knocking you over in the station,” he said and licked the last of his chowder. "What about the person who was supposed to travel with you?"
"Josie? What about her? I asked, piqued.
"Anyway, she could have gotten involved and backed out at the last minute?” he rushed, lowering his voice at the return of the waiter. He scrutinized my reaction as if he was testing me.
"Impossible,” I whispered.
The waiter opened the cloche covering my Capellini a la Vongole and his Filet Mignon ‘A la Rossini with a flourish. He left after refilling our wine glasses.
“How can you be so sure?” he asked in a neutral tone as if reaching out to my logical mind instead of my sense of loyalty.
I was relieved when he didn't press further because I didn’t want him to notice how much I was missing her right now. I wondered what she would have suggested I do with this situation.
He attacked his steak and devoured it before I had worked through half of my pasta. Tearing a piece of his second roll, he wiped his empty dish with the bread to catch the leftover fois gras, black truffles and Madeira sauce. When the waiter returned, he would assume that Steinfield had licked his plate clean. I forked and twisted my pasta around my spoon and took my time to savor the exquisite taste of each cooked-to-perfection clam in a creamy white wine sauce.
I was sure he’d find out sooner than later why Josie wouldn’t be joining me anytime soon. With a resigned sigh, even if it cost me, I decided that I might as well tell him everything before he assumed the worst.
"Josie was my lifelong best friend, and she passed away unexpected only three weeks ago. It was past the cancellation policy date and since she had already paid her cabin, I figured I'd enjoy more space for myself in peace.” I said, my tone turning sour.
But in truth, I was not being at peace with her absence. Far from it. Somehow I had entertained the silly idea that because the cabin couldn’t be reassigned, since it hadn’t been canceled, I could still imagine she was near, beside my own cabin even if only in spirit. But I sure wasn’t going to tell him that last part. He was gracious enough not to mention that he was aware that I was partly responsible for her absence as I’m positive it must have turned up in the police report.
I stared at his face for sympathy, crossed my arms and moved back in my seat. His face softened before looking away through the window. A slight blush was creeping up his neck, a sign my revelation might embarrass him. Before I knew it, a tidal wave of sadness gripped me, and my eyes stung from the burn of tears which threatened to fall.
No. Not now, I admonished myself as a single tear fell. In a swift move, I wiped it off with my index finger. Oh, please get a grip.
I studied the pattern of the breadcrumbs on the white linen tablecloth and swatted each crumbs away till they reached the edge of the table. Gathering my crusty treasure, I bundled it with my hand and sent it off the table.
"I'm sorry for your loss and for the inconvenience of me taking the adjoining cabin," he said in a low tone that hinted of his contrition. “I'll talk to the train master about offering you a compensation and fixing the defective lock of the connecting door.”
At the corner of my downcast eyes, I saw one of his hands making a brief movement in my direction on the white linen. After a moment of hesitation, he retrieved it to its former position near the edge of the table on his side.
"You can run a background check on Josie if you want. I can vouch that she’d never involve herself in illegal or terrorist activities. You won't find anything suspicious with me either." I crossed my arms to make my point clear.
“Is that so?” he asked with a hint of a smile. What? Was he testing my reaction?
I shut up, realizing that he was either teasing me again or he still suspected me despite the disappointing search.
I should have been careful as I’m known for my occasional short fuse. After two weeks as a new controller in training, the team didn’t lose time nicknaming me “the little spit fire engine”. Dennis Norton, from our technical support team, would chant whenever I'd get into arguments, that the guys were all loosing their bets about who would get lucky with me. Whatever that means. But still, I had to admit that Steinfield had an uncanny talent to push me out of my comfort zone. I was never quite sure if he was testing me or teasing me with his laid back but shrew questions.
While I kept my mouth shut, he was busy wolfing down the rest of the rolls. When was the last time he had had a decent meal? He seemed famished.
I scanned the passengers present while elaborating my strategy plan. The lovebirds were in the middle of an argument; his hand came around her shoulder as if trying to pacify her. Her disdainful pout betrayed that he had not yet succeeded.
She continued her whining tirade. "And there is not even an en suite bathroom to our cabin. What kind of honeymoon is this? This place is so old...”
Some people just don't know how to appreciate a unique traveling experience. I found the concept quaint if somewhat impractical. Across from us, Mrs. Nosy Fur Stole was busy taking notes on a pad with an expensive Swarovski crystal designer pen.
"So what about you, Mr. Steinfield? You showed me your ID card, but that doesn't tell me much about you. Will you get a reward if you catch Rachid or his accomplices?" Maybe I was just getting insolent after my second glass of Merlot, and furthermore, I was getting tired after this long day full of excitement.
However, Steinfield didn't look upset or offended by my question.
“Well, just putting him out of circulation and behind bars will be reward enough for me. Twice I came within an inch of bringing him and his organization to justice, but he managed to slip away." He surprised me with his honesty, which I wasn’t sure I deserved. Moreover, he was putting himself at risk by being so candid with me. He didn’t have to.
I frowned, perplexed.
"Are you positive you don’t remember any additional details you may have overlooked and didn’t tell me about the incident at Victoria station, no matter how insignificant they may appear.” His tone was turning even more professional. "Please?" he added for good measure with a smile he knew well enough I would fall for.
Yes, I think he knows the effect he has on me and is ready to take full advantage of it if it suits his purpose.
"No, I have nothing else to add. As you know, I was confused after the fall because of the impact on my head. I’m still not sure if I didn’t black out for a second or two. But more important, do you think his group is planning an attack on this train?" I leaned forward to make sure no one else heard. He was running a hand through his hair and let out a sigh of frustration. A pang of dread crossed my mind as I surveyed the room full of diners who were clueless that the security of their journey may be compromised.
"We don't know yet. Most terrorists are in the habit of stating their claim on the attacks, using media leaks, to bring attention to their demands. These guys want publicity while at the same time making their grievance about their people, religion or way of life. They feed on creating terror around them," he added in a clipped tone.
My head was throbbing, and I wanted to get away from this situation, or at least distance myself for a while, by retreating to my cabin. All I wanted to do was to curl up in bed and sleep it off.
“Excuse me, but I’m tired. Goodnight.” I said, getting up in one swift move. To my dismay, the movement dragged the tablecloth a few inches. Next, the clinging of the crystal glassware alerted me the shifting damask had unsteadied their contents. I was too late to react. The red wine in the glass nearest to me spilled, making a batik like motif on my dress.
One of the waiters was half running to help me with my stain and bruised dignity. I waved him off and kept my course until I reached my cabin. I could feel Steinfield’s eyes on my back while I exited the car.
Back in my cabin, I removed my halter top blue dress to inspect it for damages.
Too bad I didn't choose white wine because that stain will never come off. I rinsed it as best as I could in the washbasin of the vanity cabinet. I left it to dry on a hanger, pulled on a T-shirt and settled in bed after turning off the light. I was grateful for the clockwork sound of the speeding train which helped me to calm down. I tried to match my breaths with its rhythmic sound.
I don't know if I was glad or disappointed with the search. On the one hand, I was almost puzzled over my lack of findings. But then, how was it that the FBI agent could be so adamant I was a carrier when I’d found nothing unusual or clandestine in my luggage?
Even though I had nothing to hide, the dread sitting in the pit of my stomach alerted me that this story might not be over yet.
I didn’t know how much more heartache I was supposed to endure. I was still emotionally shaken by Josie’s death and the car accident, and now the crisis at the train station did nothing to put this trip into a positive light. This dream vacation, just like my dinner dress, was stained from Steinfield’s information. As much as I disliked his revelations, I had to admit that he had remained polite and good natured even if he considered that I may have been carrying a potential dangerous piece of equipment. That level of professionalism may explain why he was chosen for this job.
Did the train master think this VSOE run was in danger? Now that I thought about it, Steinfield must had been leading his investigation with the consent of the company running the Orient-Express, the DuPont Company. For sure, he would have only been able to board the train on such short notice with their consent.
During supper time, my steward had converted my cabin into its night configuration. The day seat had transformed into an inviting bed complete with down pillows and a gold tone snug fleecy blanket with the VSOE logo embroidered on it. A carafe of cool water rested on a rack within reaching distance, along with bottled mineral water. I must thank my attentive steward for his care. I sank into the comfortable berth, marveling at the posh accommodation. But to be honest, I think I could have slept on the carpeted floor because I was dead beat, body and soul. The low rumble of the speeding train doubled as a lullaby. Before falling into oblivion, two green eyes appeared and disappeared before transforming into a Cheshire Cat grin made of sensual masculine lips.
Chapter 7
August 26th, Closer to Innsbruck, Adjoining Cabin to 3504, During the Night
"Shit! Damn connection.” Drake groaned in the adjacent cabin as he struggled for the third time to retrieve his emails. At 2:00 AM, he was still writing his preliminary report since he had been too busy earlier. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he didn't have to wonder who was calling him at this hour.
Jeff Thornhill was always available for support, thank goodness.
"Hey, Jeff," Drake answered.
"You don’t sound like you’ve been asleep. Am I catching you with your latest conquest?” teased Jeff.
"No.” Drake fumed over this situation, and he was in no mood to put up with his colleague’s banter. "So, you got the information I asked for?" He needed to know more about this Mara Ellington ASAP.
"Yeah. She has a top security and secret security clearance at New York’s John F. Kennedy Airport. However, there is a note which states that her secret clearance was adjucated to standard level for a period of one week last month in reference to a car accident investigation. Her top level security level was reinstated by the Unites States Office of Personnel Management right after the investigation was closed.”
Drake leaned back on the headrest, closed his eyes and sighed. "What position is she working?"
“Most of the time as an approach controller at the Tower.”
Drake’s mind reeled with the myriad of implications of this new information. “Can you find out more about the investigation which involved her?”
“Consider it done.” Jeff paused before asking, “What do you think is the link between this ATC and Rachid? I mean, prior the event at Victoria Station?”
"I don’t know yet, but I sure intend to find out. With his last attempt at smuggling sensitive equipment over the borders, Rachid has upped his game, and he must be dealing with a new supplier for his equipment this time. Get me the latest development in Improvised Explosive Devices since last month. Has his faction issue any demands in the last twenty-four hours?”
“No, not yet, but I’m sure we won’t have to wait long.”
“Tell the office to be on full alert. Rachid did not hang around Victoria Station for no reason. It's only a question of time before he announces his next bombing attack.” said Drake.
“Be careful not to lose sight of that cute carrier. I’ve seen her picture on her driver’s license.”
"What? No, I don't care how cute Mara Ellington looks on her driver’s license, and don't forget, I want a report on every passenger on this train and keep me posted on every movement of Rachid faction. Updates around the clock. This woman is my best lead to this damn freak, and I ain’t letting go until I catch the bastard,” said Drake between his teeth while trying to control his mounting temper. “Ok. Talk to you later,” he said before hanging up.
At this point, there was a strong possibility that Rachid had targeted the tourist to serve him as his mule. With her position as an air traffic controller, the possibilities and opportunities this carrier offered to a terrorist faction were extraordinary. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to block the images that were assaulting his mind. He hoped he was wrong about this.
Focus, Steinfield; you’re letting your imagination run away with you, he admonished himself.
He reached for his leather jacket inside pocket to grab the miniature plastic container he was looking for. The
impromtu stress reliever had replaced his chain smoking habit a few years ago. Keeping his hands busy always helped him relax or brainstorm.
His cell pinged, announcing another email. He checked its content. Just as he had expected. Rachid was claiming the London tearing gas bomb and warned that the next bomb would cause death unless the authorities meet his demands. He was requesting the release of his sons and nephews held in detention in US.
After torturing the plastic box a few minutes more, he took a mint to mellow his impatience. Once he’d put away his candy shaker, Drake's attention diverted to the strange moaning coming from the next cabin. The deep rumbling pitch of the train was getting competition from another noise that was growing louder with every passing minute.
"Hmm, no ... leave me alone... Wait. No, stop... stop... going to blow up!" The woman’s voice mumbled in slurred speech beyond the separation door.
Yes, it sounded like Mara. And then, nothing for a few seconds. Drake strained his ears against the partition door to listen better. The target of his surveillance was having a nightmare. It wasn't his fault, he concluded with mixed feelings. Was this a product of her guilty conscience? He heard her mention words, although indistinct, but it sounded like she muttered 'going to blow up'. Before he had time to think further, he jumped to his feet in full alert mode as another piercing scream resonated throughout his cabin. Terror yells mixed with a wail of distress. Yes, he remembered hearing many of those, years ago when he was a teenager strolling down Greenwich Street in New York.
At this precise second, he forgot his duty as an FBI agent. The only thing that counted were those shrieks. They triggered a basic instinct at the core of his soul. The one hardwired into his brain stemming from the need to help another human being in distress. He was not willing to admit that it was because the scream was hers. It disturbed him. Too much. He was on the verge of crossing the line, professionally and physically, by going to her side. He could always argue that he was just being a Good Samaritan.
He heard a nearby door open down the hallway. After a brief moment, it closed again. Likely that socialite must have also heard her neighbour’s moaning.
He found her tangled in her sheets and wrestling with her blanket. The covers had slid off to her waist, reveali
ng an oversize crumpled pink T-shirt marked “Osh Kosh, # 1” logo on it. Strangely enough, Drake’s assessment of her personality hadn’t pictured her as the type to wear a Barbie pink T-shirt. The hem had ridden up her slender figure to reveal the soft curve of her hips.
***
I woke up with a start. Someone had screamed in my ears and the voice sounded familiar if distorted. I blinked because the lamp beside the bed blinded my sleepy eyes. Hadn’t I turned it off before going to bed? I struggled to wake up and clear my mind of the inexplicable apprehension gripping me. For a moment I didn't recognize my surroundings, but it came back upon hearing the rhythmic sound of the racing wheels on the tracks. It's only then that I noticed him. His hand was gently shaking my arm while he loomed over me, scrutinizing my face, trying to see through me. He was leaning so close that
I could feel the heat exuding from his body.
"Hey, easy there. You’re Ok?" His tone betrayed his concern and embarrassment. "Water?" He handed me a glass with sparkling mineral water. Still holding my other arm, his thumb caressed me it with small repetitive movements. Although the soothing gesture was meant to calm me down, its intimacy had a reverse effect on me. As a result, my pulse jacked up a few notches with the excitement of his nearness as if he’d allowed himself to show an affectionate display. He remained unaware until I gave him a pointed look. He removed his hand at the speed of someone who’d touched a flame.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. My tongue felt like sandpaper, but what’s more important is that I was furious at his intrusion. How dare he?
At least he was wearing a PJ bottom. A light dusting of chestnut hair was running over his pecs and trailed down the PJ waistband. It caught my attention, and a blush rose to my cheeks, informing me he may have caught my inspection. My eyes darted back to his handsome frowning face. The stubble signified that more than a few hours must have passed since I’d retired to bed. I couldn't tell if my heart galloped from the nightmare or his proximity. I must have studied his lips too long because the cocky smile returned as he lifted his brow with satisfaction.
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