With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Guten morgen, was möchten Sie haben?” the woman asked kindly. (Good morning, what would you like to have?)

Reini was speechless. Wasn’t the agent debriefed before? Reini didn’t know German; they would have to resort to French.

Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of loneliness filled her being, making her wish she had Eena or at least Greg with her, and she knew it wasn’t just because they knew German and she did not.

“I can’t speak German,” Reini tried to say, but when the woman just gave her a blank look, she gesticulated wildly. “Je suis désolé, mais je ne peux pas parler l'allemand.”(I am sorry, but I cannot speak German.)

The kind woman nodded. “Ah. Je comprends. Que voulez-vous avoir, bonne madame ?”(Ah. I understand. What do you want to have, good madam?)

Reini smiled. “Je voudrais avoir une tasse grande de moka et a petite plaque de chocolat biscuits.” (I would like to have a big cup of mocha and a small plate of chocolate cookies.)

The woman smiled. “Vous l'aurez dans moins de cinq minutes.”(You’ll have it in less than five minutes.)

Reini watched as the woman walked away, and hummed to herself as she enjoyed the warm sun. The cool breeze felt so good against her skin, and the scent of pasta from the restaurant nearby made her stomach rumble with hunger.

A few minutes later, the woman arrived with a round gray tray on her hand with a cup of coffee on a small platter and a small platter filled with cookies. The woman held the tray steadily in one hand as she took the small platter of cookies. Reini took the platter from the woman, and she smiled as she felt the small cold metal against her skin. She opened her bag, dropped the USB in, and brought out her wallet, giving the girl twenty Swiss Francs. The girl smiled, nodded, and walked away, leaving Reini with her cup of coffee and plate of cookies.

The first sip of her mocha left her sighing in pleasure. The drink had been well-made, the flavors and spices mixing quite amazingly in her mouth. It was not too warm, and it was not too cold, and in Reini’s opinion, it was perfect; the most amazing blend of coffee she had had in years.

A sudden ringing sounded from her bag, and it shattered the peaceful stillness she was enjoying. She put back the cup on the table and opened her bag, taking out her phone once she found it.

“Saunders,” Reini said, getting a cookie from the platter with two slim fingers.

“Are you finished with your mission?”

Reini froze, fingers holding the cookie stilling in midair, halfway its trip to her mouth. Blinking twice, Reini slowly put back the cookie on the platter before ringing the bell three times. “Yes.”

Amrie’s voice was serious, the low tone making her hairs stand up, producing goosebumps. “We need you here at once. A jet is coming for you. Be at the airport in thirty minutes.”

Reini looked at the waiter walking her way, looked as he neared the clean glass door. “I’ll be there.”

“Bonjour, madame, comment puis-je être de service?” asked the kind waiter. (Hello, madam, how may I be of service?)

Reini smiled. “Puis-je avoir le contrôle, s'il vous plaît?”(Can I have the check, please?)

The waiter nodded. “Bien sûr.”(Of course.)

“Je vous ai également ces d'aller,” said Reini, pointing at the mostly-full cup of coffee and the platter of chocolate cookies. (I’ll also have these to go.)

The man nodded, and he took the plate of cookies and Reini’s cup of coffee, putting them on his round tray before walking back to the establishment.

She didn’t have time to ask Amrie what exactly the reason was that they needed her, but she knew it was important, and she knew she had to hurry. Amrie wasn’t exactly the type one would want to be mad, and Reini wasn’t a complete masochist.

The service was—Reini was pleased to note—quite fast. Within seconds, the waiter was back at her table, and she looked at the receipt. She put a bill worth fifty Swiss Francs, took the paper bag with her food inside, and walked away.

At the first corner she turned, she dropped the paper bag into a trash can and walked away.

She was pretty certain the waiter was an agent of The Alliance. It was too bad, really, because their coffee was pretty amazing, and really quite expensive.

Damn agent.                                                         

“We have a mission for you.”

Catherine looked up from her desk and cocked her head to the side, confused. “Just me?”

Her case handler nodded and gave her a brown folder. “Yes. Cairo, Egypt. Jet leaves in thirty. Your objective is to reach Mister Martinez before The Alliance does. Mister Martinez is The Alliance’s primary supplier of chemicals, and it would do you some good to reach him and take him away before they do.”

“And if I encounter an agent of The Alliance?”

“You know the drill. Dispatch the agent.”

Catherine nodded. She wasn’t even surprised by the order anymore, because who was she kidding? That was her life now. Her life was made up of lies, alibis, and a whole lot of killing people.

“Consider it done,” Catherine said with confidence only few possessed.

And really, she didn’t know what bothered her more; the fact that she could kill people with the slightest bit of remorse, if there was any in the first place, or the fact that she could kill people, period.

The agent walked away, and Catherine looked at the open brown folder on her desk.

“Consider it done,” she whispered to herself, the words lost between noise and silence.