Delta: A Spy Novel

Chapter Ten

            “I’ll do it,” Astrid offered.

            “No,” Pierre and Charlie snapped at the same time, and then glared at each other. I sighed wearily, rolling my eyes. At this point I was beginning to think females were the smarter species.

            “Guys,” I said irritably, “I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for this. Look, Astrid’s in a – well, a disguise,” I looked at her in slight amusement and she glared at me, “which I’m sure she came by easily – if not honestly – so I think we should let her get the car, personally. It makes the most sense.”

            “Finally!” she muttered. “I make sense!”
            “It was the plan, not you,” I pointed out, rolling my eyes.

            Pierre didn’t look happy, and truthfully I couldn’t blame him. But I looked pointedly at him until he nodded. Charlie didn’t say anything, negative or positive, but I decided not to ask him, fearing further dispute. I looked back at Astrid. “Okay,” I said, trying to sound calm and in control. “I’d say you have about five minutes, Astrid, to get the car and bring it to the end of this alley, okay? So make it snappy.”

            It was a mark of how tense she was that she didn’t respond with a sarcastic comment. She merely nodded, and said, “Keys?”

            Pierre took them out of his pocket, handing them to her. Their hands brushed together for a little while longer than necessary; he looked like he wanted to kiss her again, their eyes locked, until Charlie cleared his throat loudly and the moment was broken. I tried really hard not to smirk, but a tiny one escaped as Astrid grabbed the keys in a slightly flustered way from Pierre and then jogged out of the alley.

            “Okay then,” I said conversationally, when she had disappeared from view. “I guess we should wait at the end?”

            Pierre through me a dark look as he stalked ahead, pulling his gun out of his pocket as he did so. Trying to look like James Bond, if you ask me, swiping his head around in a constant surveillance. I almost laughed, but the look on Charlie’s face stopped me quickly.            

            Rolling my eyes at the boys’ stupidity, I followed Pierre’s example of pulling out my gun and walked to the end of the alley myself, Charlie trailing behind me. The next few minutes consisted of Pierre pacing the narrow street, Charlie looking like he was trying not to shoot something (or someone), and me going nearly crazy with their romantic issues. It was probably only about five minutes, but it felt like hours before we heard the screech of a car’s breaks to our left.

            Astrid poked her head out the driver’s side window, eyes wide. “They saw me,” she told us urgently. “Get in the car; they’re coming quick.”

            Pierre yanked open the shotgun side, saying, “Are you all right?” Astrid ignored this, instead flooring the gas petal the moment Charlie stepped into the car.

            “Mother–” he muttered, falling into his seat with a grumpy expression and slamming the door shut. “Couldn’t you have waited two more seconds?”