Paranoia or Reality

Paranoia or Reality Chapter 13

Somewhere in the outskirts of Paris

The door looked the same as it had fifteen years ago. The same grey paint and scratches into the wood, the lion knocker made from brass was worn out like the door. Yet, it seemed a lifetime ago since Callen stood on this stoop. As he readied himself to knock, he hesitated. What if she no longer lived at this address? He licked his lips before he flicked the knocker.

The sound echoed down the alleyway, into the night. It had taken him and Sam four hours to walk to this location, rerouting, making certain, neither of them had been followed.

He heard movement on the inside, footsteps made their way along the old wooden floor to the front door. He looked back at the peephole and waited. His heart raced.

A key scratched in the lock before it wedged open. "We are closed for business." The French accent was familiar as well as the scent of the woman's perfume.

"Scarlet."

The door opened wider, an older version of the woman he'd known once upon a time, stood in front of him.

"It's good to see you." A hint of a smile edged on his lips. "You look as beautiful as I remember."

"Your words of flattery never got you anywhere before, Mason. What makes you think it will work on me tonight?" Her eyes sparkled, a sign she was pleased to see him. This was the old game they'd played before, and now it was as if time had stood still, except for the fragments of white hairs that sparkled in his dark blond hair, and a few more wrinkles under his eyes. She looked timeless as if she was still the young woman he remembered.

"We need your help." He turned to Sam, and for the first time, Scarlet noticed his companion. He stepped into the light and nodded his head.

"Bonsoir."

"Bonsoir." Scarlet gave him a warm smile. "Come inside." She stepped back and allowed them access. "To the rear," she quickly added.

Callen took the lead, he remembered the long narrow house well, the smell of Scarlet's cooking reached his senses as he approached the kitchen.

"Please sit. Can I offer you a drink?"

"The usual, thanks." Callen and Sam sat at the old wooden dining table, Callen ran his hands over the fine timber, remembering his previous visits to this place.

Scarlet poured two shots of whiskey for the men and laid them onto the table. She sat in a vacant chair and watched them closely. Callen's cerulean orbs met her medium brown eyes that reminded him of walnuts. Silence held in the air for a brief moment. Sam's attempts to drag any information out of his partner over where they were going and who this woman was, had failed. Callen had walked to this location in silence, unwilling to divulge a single word on the matter.

"How can I help you and your friend?" Her hands clasped in front of her on the table, patience was on her side.

"We need a vehicle to drive across the border into Belgium."

"Is this a one-way trip?"

"Yes."

"What mess have you gotten yourselves into this time?"

"Nothing we asked for."

"That's what you told me the last time when you needed somewhere to hide for a few days, and a ride out of Paris. Mason, how many times will you keep coming back here, hoping I will help you?"

"I'm sorry, Scarlet. If there was another way—"

She pressed her lips together, thinking. "It is best if I do not know the details just in case you were followed here."