Criminal Intent: Murder, Mayhem and... Battenberg?

Five

Time passed. How long? I don't know. But as soon as she woke, Isadora glanced out the plane window and saw the sun. At a first glance, it lookes to be rising. Which says she was out for around 12 hours.

Then the fact she was on a plane. She already knew exactly what had happened. Emelyn most probably seduced the airport staff, whilst Imogen snuck her sisters body onto a first class plane - most likely aquired from one of the trios many contacts.

Emelyn was more of a leader - much alike their childhood - and prefered being the one who called the shots, who made the plans, whereas Imogen was a little more physical, dealing with the weapons and the manual labour. Isadora took a little from both their books, with the authority of Emelyn and the weaponry knowledge that Imogen had, with her own added twist - computers. Like I said before, she had a unnatural obsession with them. She understood how they worked better than humans. To her, humans were parasites, and technology the dominant lifeforms - even though, technically speaking, they weren't alive.

Think about it, how far has technology come in the last few decades? Has it not changed our way of life? Become our way of life, almost. We have come to be entirely reliant on it, and yet many sit and cry 'stupid laptop!' at the screen, without realising it's probably more intelligent than they'll ever be.

Oi. Humanity. Up your game a little.

Isadora sat on the plane, completely consumed by her thoughts until Imogen walked through the door. Then, she snapped out of it, head flying round to face the doorway. Imogen stood, wearing a simple black vest top with leggings, and a leather jacket flung on top. Her dark hair was tied back - as usual - in dark pigtails. An unusual choice for a criminal, but it was a small piece of innocence still left in her, the rest simply disappeared.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Don't want to miss the in-flight entertainment now, do we?" Imogen said, her devil red lips curling into a perfect smile, showing off her shark-like pointed teeth.

A single manicured finger tapped the cream coloured arm chair, a sign of boredom from Isadora herself. Still, she looked bored by the situation, her sisters threatening tone and the plastic binding her to the chair meaning nothing to her, as she sat, staring into her sisters eyes.

"So then, how's William these days?" Isadora questioned, attempting small talk. Imogen scoffed.

"The twit's still working as a doctor. You know, I never thought his dream of pursuing forensic pathology would reach this far." Imogen replied, placing herself in the seat opposite Isadora, with the elegance and grace of a queen. She leant back, eyes thin and lips pursed. She was not beautiful, rather plain actually, but her presence made up for it. She had a regal like sense to her, like she thought herself more important than others, but would never say that aloud.

"Hm." Agreed Isadora, glancing at the window, still making no attempt to struggle. What was the point? She was 5000 feet high with no exit unless she wanted to end up at the bottom of the ocean.

"You know, she didn't want to do this." Imogen said, a distant look in her eyes as she matched Isadoras action and stared out the window. This caught Isadoras attention.

"What?" A raised eybrow.

"Em. She didn't want to do this. We didn't want to do this."

"Then why did you?"

"It doesn't even matter, I should just-"

"Then. Why. Did. You?" Isadora demanded.

"Shut up."

"Tell me and maybe I might."

"Because he said he would kill you!" Imogen stood up suddenly, eyes burning as she snapped harshly. Her eyebrows point straight down, angry creases across her forehead. Isadora's eyes widened a little, Imogen's eyes thinned in perfect synchronisation. Protected. Isadora was protected.

"I couldn't-... I wouldn't let that happen..." And with that, Imogen made her dramatic exit. Or at least, tried to.

"Imogen?" Isaodora whispered, her eyes soft now, suddenly realising how much her sister cared. The fire in her eyes... it couldn't be faked.

Imogen turned slowly.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Each word was precise, every syllable stretched, as if Imogen were trying to savour it. As the words escaped her lips, she couldn't help smiling.

"You're welcome, Miss Beaumont."

~¤~¤~¤~¤~

Hearing the door open behind her, Emelyn turned her seat round to her visitor, and in seeing it was her sister, her figure slumped slightly.

"She bought it?" Emelyn asked.

"Every word." Imogen wiped away the fake tears from her eyes, signiture smirk on her face once again.

"She doesn't suspect a thing."

~¤~¤~¤~¤~

Three shadowed figures stood around a large, circular shaped table. Projected upon it was a map of Northern America, with some cities with large crosses over them, others circle in permanent marker.

"I've been informed that Miss Beaumont is crossing the Atlantic. The sisters kept their deal." The tallest figure spoke, his voice deep with a distinct American accent - maybe from Seattle, or around that area.

"Beaumont? I thought we were getting Thorne." Said the second voice. Female and Canadian, younger than the first.

"Thorne is an alias. Don't be stupid, Cassie" Replied the third, his tone harsh. Male again. Polish this time.

The projector powered down, but the light was soon returned as large lights resembling floodlights lining the ceiling lit up, illuminating the warehouse like room. Rows of computers took up most of the space, manned by men and women in dark clothes, all tapping away at the keys, eyes large as they focused on the screen. The walls were a sterile white, and floors tiled in black. A set of revolving doors lay at either end of the warehouse, each manned by two armed guards and protected by a keypad and fingerprint scanner.

The three figures made their ways over to a small lounge type area at one end, with sleek black lounge chairs surrounding a coffee table. The two men sat, whilst the girl, who must only have been twenty, stood.

"Cassie, Aleksander. You must know that Miss Beaumont will not just take to you like that." The first man spoke and with the final word he snapped his fingers, emphasising his point.

"Tell me something I don't know..." Aleksander grumbled, arms folded as his dark eyes scanned across the room, alert as ever.

"Alek." Snapped Cassie, her eyes thinning at him, before returning her eyes to the older male.

"You must make her trust you. Give her chance to get to know you. We need her on this, so I don't want you two to muck this up again. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Aleksander and Cassie chorused, both with equally monotone voices.

And with that, the man walked out.