"Couldn't sleep with all the racket you were making here. Sounds like the Orient-Express just got fitted with a second engine.” He winked.
I narrowed my eyes at him."Glad my snoring kept you from sleeping, Mr. Steinfeld,” I replied with a saccharine smile. He lifted the glass in my view, inviting me to drink again, or was this a way to shut me up? My pasted tongue reminded me I was parched.
With a shaky hand, I took the proffered glass and my fingers brushed for a moment over his. The glass was empty in an instant, and he poured me another one at once.
"It was just a nightmare," I said, rolling my eyes. "I don't need a babysitter." I hoped I sounded self-assured.
"You should have drank more water last night before going to bed because you're probably dehydrated from the alcohol," he lectured.
"So are you also a medical expert, Mr. Steinfield?" I asked with a sarcastic tone while sitting straighter.
"No, but it looks like I've got more experience than you in the drinking department," he said with a smug tone.
"Ok, well, then, why don't you take your expertise with you and walk right back to your cabin, and this time I'll make sure I lock that door.
"Tomorrow morning, I expect you to give me the address of where you’ll be staying in Venice in case we need you for further questioning as this is the end of this train’s run,” he said before exiting back to his cabin.
***
A few minutes later, Drake tried to pace in his cabin and failed on account of its tight measurements, roughly five by seven foot, he guessed. He ran a nervous hand thru his unruly hair and sighed, upset with himself. Grabbing his candy box, he resumed his flipping session. What the fuck was I thinking, going on her side and pretending to be the knight in shiny armor? Pathetic. He was no fool and knew too well why he’d gone. A part of him was still unwilling to admit that he had just seized any excuse to deliver her from that nightmare. He’d enjoyed the feel of the delicate pliable flesh under his hands when he tried to wake her up.
Her trim frame, struggling with her covers, was endearing and a sign of her feistiness. Her battle resulted in uncovering the hint of her petite but firm breast visible through the sagging collar of the extra large T-shirt. The fixation of his memory on the few tiny freckles he had discovered on this part of her body fascinated him. Her face au natural was sweet and innocent when she was not busy trying to put on a tough front. Her pert freckled nose had scrunched up from her bad dream and on instinct, he could not let her continue her nightmare after that scream that ripped him.
The sight of her terror-stricken expression marring her beguiling exquisite face had poked at his heart.
You are going soft, Steinfield, and you'll pay for this sooner or later.
He couldn’t sleep. Might as well leave the small cabin’s confining space to stretch his legs. It wouldn't be the first time that Rachid used an unsuspecting civilian in his schemes. But then again he also didn't hesitate to sacrifice members of his group on suicide missions for the so-called 'cause'. Especially when the 'cause' included Omar's personal interests. Drake knew too well that one of those included a private vendetta against him.
August 26th, En route to Insbruck. VSOE, Corridor to Lounge Car, 2:30 AM
After he got dressed and exited his cabin, he had the misfortune to cross that sixty-something socialite bearing an enigmatic smile while scrutinizing him over her oversized big ugly glasses. He accelerated his pace in the direction of the cocktail lounge car. He was in no mood for small talk and settled for a curt “Good night” while flattening himself against the wood panels so as to not graze her.
Damn! At this late hour, the bar was closed. There had been no real intention of getting a drink. He just needed to walk but still, a cold soda would have been nice because his mouth was dry. It was due less to the alcohol he had had at supper than his state of stress at the new impasse he faced.
It wasn’t only a matter of preventing a terrorist attack. His supervisor at the FBI CT Division, Major McDaniels, had told him this may be his best opportunity to capture Rachid. His precedent missions had saved many lives, but the terrorist’s cover remained tight as ever since the man was removing himself from the front of the scene. Drake’s chances of capturing him was growing slimmer with time despite the US government’s excessive expenses to catch him.
How many people would be hurt or die unless he succeeded in stopping the man and putting an end to his twisted plots? He didn’t even have a proper spec sheet to figure out what type of bombs and explosives Rachid intended to use with his upcoming attacks. There was no denying that Rachid had access, through his web of connections, to the latest technology available to terrorists. For certain, using an innocent civilian as a mere carrier was not beyond his means.
These damned factions were ready to do anything to get what they wanted. He’d even traced back, two years ago, the cover up of a group of Iraqis who had infiltrated an American charitable organization to finance their purchase of illegal arms. In this case, they needed the equipment she must be carrying to complete the coup. What complicated matters more was the fact that Rachid’s faction was not the only terrorist group that may be interested in retrieving it.
Although he found no illicit bombing equipment in her luggage, her life may be in danger if other factions, scrutinizing Rachid’s activities, assumed that she has been designated as a carrier.
Chapter 8
August 26th, Closer to Innsbruck, Cabin 3504, Morning
The morning sun pierced through the rich fabric of the window’s shades, warming my cheeks with its golden heat. I checked my watch: 7:00 AM. Reaching out with my arms above my head, I performed my ritual feline stretch. Rested, despite an overdose of accumulated imbroglio during the last twenty-four hours, I had to admit, with a pang of guilt, that yesterday had been the most exciting time I’d had in my life. Even the bleakest situations always look brighter after a good night’s sleep. On the other hand, I hoped today wouldn’t bring me other mishaps.
My thoughts drifted to Steinfield and before I could stop it, my heart raced as his face came into my mind; his eyes, the curve of his sensual mouth and his mischievous grin. Imprinted in my memory was the sensation of his strong grip on my wrist and the warm woodsy odor of his skin when we danced. I should resent him for having barged uninvited into my cabin last night. Even if his intention had been innocent and well meaning, I should report this incident to the head trainmaster. On second thought, the latter must be aware that an FBI agent is running a mission on board, and he would dismiss the incident as benign.
Was Drake Steinfield so charismatic that beyond reason, I was thrilled in a most masochistic way to be the subject of his attention despite the dangerous situation I had gotten myself into? Was I only attracted to his virile and animalistic charm? Most of the time, I’m not one to be swayed by an attractive exterior. I’d had enough of the alpha male kind that exuded the self-assurance typical of the machos who always ended up putting themselves first in relationships. I regretted it every time and should have learned my lesson by now.
“Don't rely on your attraction for this type, Mara; you always end up hurt,” Josie would chide.
What was I doing? Fantasizing about someone whose sole interest was to accomplish his mission, catch the bad guy and move on to the next mission? On reflection, maybe I did need a CT scan since that fall at Victoria Station. Even if we found nothing last night, no matter how I turned and flipped this situation over in my head, I couldn’t help thinking that I carried my own little dark omen. Since I was not guilty of any crime, why was I feeling so uneasy like a caged bird? A lump of dread had established residence in my throat despite all logic.
I opened the curtain and tried to distract myself by admiring the passing scenery out the window. The verdant landscape was peppered by tiny villages made of Swiss chalets arranged in clusters around their quaint wooden churches. This pastoral decor contained more cows than inhabitants. The majestic snow ca
ps of the rocky alpine Alderbherg range left me in awe. I immortalized the moment with a few snapshots of the divine serenity of this breathtaking scenery. Taking a deep inhale, I surrendered to the peaceful effect of this part of the journey. After a half dozen of shots, I put away my good old reliable Lumix 10 X mega pixel. It was nothing like the latest technology Sylvia carried around. While I liked to take pictures for a souvenir and sheer virtual preservation of timeless beauty, my sister snapped photos of the horror and ugliness of today's world.
Why had she not responded to my texts and voicemails? She’d Skyped me about 3 weeks ago when she had offered me condolences about Josie. Despite my sadness, it had felt good to talk with my older sister. Our usual conversations lasted only five minutes. She would inform me about when she would be in town or would ask my opinion about what to get our parents for Christmas. Being able to talk face to face via Skype had been more satisfying than only hearing her voice. She sounded enthusiastic about our plan to meet in Turkey. She would be on site as a foreign correspondent to cover the growing tension at the borders with the Syrians. Afterward, we could have some “quality sister time”. Although it flattered me that she made the effort for us to spend time together, I also sensed, by her tone of voice, that her job did not seem to excite her as much as before. When I’d inquired about her latest reportage, she sounded flat. We had concluded our conversation with the specifics of our meeting in Istanbul and she said she’d call me back if there was a change of plans. Maybe her silence was caused by a bad reception with the cellular communication. She once told me it was often the case in mountain regions.
Thinking about cover stories, I remembered an article in the newspaper last month, about a tourist accused of carrying illegal drugs. The gullible tourists had been an easy target at an airport. The drug dealer had requested them to carry a parcel which contained gift-wrapped soaps, as a favor, for a so-called family member. They had pretexted that the weight of their luggage would exceed the limit allowed if they carried the parcel themselves. Maybe I should have been thankful I was not also suspected of hiding drugs. A ripple ran through my spine. I shouldn’t let my mind imagine the worst, but I lost my inner battle to keep the black thoughts at bay.
Anyway, since Steinfield had found nothing in my belongings, he would just have to examine someone else’s luggage. I had been about the last one to board the train; maybe Rachid had already planted his equipment before he knocked me down, if it was in fact him. Maybe I was not the carrier after all and the agent had just made a mistake. Anyway, I should instead focus on my planned excursion in Verona coming up in a few hours. It would be short but intense.
The steward brought in my breakfast as we were arriving in the vicinity of Innsbruck. I took a few sips of hot dark roasted coffee and took a few nibbles of my fresh warm buttered croissant and diced fruits presented in a crystal cup. Then, I opted for an experimental bird bath with the cabin’s old style wash basin. The curved wooded panel hiding the porcelain vanity gave a satisfying little creak as I opened the double doors. The faucets were fitted with elegant brass handles and a box with the VSOE logo revealed an assortment of cleansing and beauty products. After unwrapping the soap bar and opening the body lotion container, I took a nifty sniff and enjoyed the vivifying lemongrass scent. The faux leather boxed package had been expertly conceived to save space while conveying a sense of luxury. This will make a nice momento of my trip. Two neatly folded monogrammed towels and face cloths hung from a brass rack, and I quickly dried myself before getting dressed. I opted to wear a pair of beige linen slacks matched with a purple and orange paisley designer top which used to belong to Josie. The colors of the fabric were bringing out the reddish natural highlight of my hair.
Heading to the onboard lavatory situated midway down the car, I crossed Mrs. Nosy Fur Stole staring at me with her arched pencil traced brows. I pretended I didn't know what that expression was all about. When he brought my breakfast, the steward confirmed she occupied the cabin right next to mine. I shook my head in disbelief. Could I be more unlucky on this leg of my trip? On the right side of my cabin, an FBI agent was taking over a cabin meant for my best friend while on my left I was stuck with a nosy woman, featuring an overactive imagination. She must have been spinning a good story on me.
Once I’d almost reached my destination, I had to stop. The newlyweds were blocking the passage way to the lavatory. Devouring each other with gusto, they couldn’t care less about obstructing the access. I debated when to interrupt them. They should come up for air in the next minute, right? While my deliberations concerning proper etiquette in this delicate matter were still in progress, a familiar voice interjected in a teasing tone, further down the hallway on the other side.
"Guys, save it for the most romantic city in the world," he laughed while tapping lightly the shoulder of the eager groom. Once they parted, I saw Steinfield clutching his toiletries bag, his face clean shaven and his hair finger combed although still damp.
"Good morning, Miss Ellington. I gather you slept well?” he announced in a cheery tone and a wink.
"Yes, I did, after locking the safety latch of my partition door. Who knows what kind of unwelcome intruders could be aboard this train?” With a sour smile, I brushed past him. He gave a small chuckle as I entered the bathroom.
I basked in my appeasing new found refuge. The dark chocolate wood panels were lit by the soft yellowed glow of the two wall mounted alabaster lamps. The sleek speckled granite counter top had a refreshing effect under my palms. To calm myself down, I took a deep breath and sniffed the bouquet of roses and violets, decorating the room. After washing my hands with the lemongrass scented soap, I dabbed drops of cool water on my brow.
My thoughts reverted to this stupid incident at Victoria station. I did not expect for it to trigger so much trouble. Maybe his source had been wrong all along. That CCTV footage he showed me had not offered a precise image of the man’s movements. If Rachid was as smart as Steinfield pretended, he should have made sure not to get caught on the safety camera. However, I must admit that his large open trench coat dissimulated what his hands were doing, even more because he had his back to the camera. As I dried my hands, I caught sight of the young women facing me in the mirror. A deep frown creased her brow. How long have I been in this lavatory? Time has a bizarre way of distorting itself when you waste it with useless worries.
I opened the door to find Steinfield’s eyes following my exit from his former spot; he was leaning like a dandy by the hallway window with his ankles crossed. For a moment, something flashed in his dark pupils. Could this be a sign of concern or even a hint of compassion? They had an uncanny magnetic effect on me, and before I could stop myself, I focused again on the golden specks peppering his green gems.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" he asked in a mocking tone.
"I beg your pardon?"
Oh no. He had caught me staring at him for the second time.
Pointing his index finger toward the floor of the bathroom, he added: "I was worried you had decided to count the mosaic tiles,” he teased.
I had to admit that it was, indeed, a Pompeian marvel of mosaic art, complete with a graceful swan design. Nevertheless, the smooth talking agent oozed self-confidence, and handsome or not, the man intended to stick to me like a disease, and I should try to keep a safe distance, physically. And otherwise.
"Haven't they told you that it's not good to follow your suspect too close in stakeouts?” I chided.
He did not expect that one. But with a feline grace that was his own trademark of masculine power, he was fast to land on his paws, to my regret.
He chuckled with eyes dancing with an unsettling mischievous gleam. "Miss Ellington, has it ever occurred to you I might have more than professional reasons to follow you?”
He was messing with me, and it worked. I prayed God he didn't see my face turning beet red as I turned my head away from his scrutiny. The hallway had become overheated within a few seconds. I
hurried off as fast as decency allowed. As if I could lose him on this train.
***
August 26th, Near Innsbruck, VSOE, Adjoining Cabin to 3504, Around 10:45 AM
"Hey, Jeff, what's the update on Rachid’s operations status?” Drake asked over his phone once back in his cabin.
Although the former didn't enjoy being in the field much since he now had a family of his own, he could always provide Drake with invaluable information. Over the years and despite Drake’s reluctance, the man even elected himself as a big brother to the younger agent. Five years ago, they’d chased suspects around the world. Being ten years older than Drake, his brotherly protection extended beyond his working partnership. They’d become best friends. The younger self-reliant New Yorker wouldn’t admit his affection for his colleague because that would sound odd coming from him.
"One of our sources received a leak that Rachid plans on attacking more European cities within the next forty-eight hours. The local police are monitoring his activities and his usual accomplices, but they have no clue how he’ll pull his next attack. The security at the Gare du Nord and Gare de Lyon in Paris was increased to a maximum level. What about you? Did you make any progress with the carrier?”
"I ran a thorough search on all her belongings. Turned out negative. It doesn’t make sense. I doubt he had a chance to tamper with her checked in luggage before hitting her at Platform No. 2 but until I get a better lead, I’m sticking to her.”
"Hey, I can’t blame you on this one. Be careful not to go soft on her. She might take off on her own because she knows you didn’t find anything in her luggage yet.”
"Listen, I'm serious, something's not adding up with her, and carrier or not, I intend to find out what it is she's hiding."
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