King of Crime ✔️

Another One? Part One

The next day Agent Thomson called me to meet him at a café, that was closer to me than the Field Office, to go over some things in the letters and something else he didn't want to address on the phone. 

At first, I was kind of confused as to why he would still work on a Sunday, but I looked it up, and apparently Special Agents work 70-90 hours a week with a minimum of 50. The man literally had no free time. Maybe this appointment was his way of secretly taking a break, if so, I was all for it. I'd love to help him.

September was already nearing, but the weather still managed to hit the thirty degrees every day, so I slipped in a yellow sundress that morning. Diane had thrown open the doors to the balcony to let some fresh air into our shared room and went to empty our mailbox. 

It was already half past noon and I promised Samuel I'd be there at one, and as it was a 20-minute ride with the bus, I had to hurry. 

As I brushed my teeth and put on my white Nikes, I contemplated whether to wear any accessories. I didn't want him to think that I thought anything of him, but I also just wanted to look good. Ah well, earrings wouldn't hurt anyone. 

I threaded through my curls as I spit out the toothpaste. I saw the small black tracking device Samuel gave me on the stand with my earrings. Probably should take that one as well. I picked it up carefully and slid it into my bag. 

Diane came back, with a few small packages and two letters, which she used as a fan to cool her head.

"Man, one day I'm not even going to make it up anymore. Those stairs are killing me." She threw the packages on the table and studied the letters. "Sammy... this one's yours. From your ex again?" she asked, already used to the things Johann send me. 

I took it from her, while putting on the earrings, and tore it open. It wasn't Johann's, probably from my mother instead. I was used to receiving letters from her instead of a simple call. 

As I folded it open, I got my backpack and my wallet and pushed open the front door.

"I'm leaving, bye!" I declared as I read who the sender was. Not mom. Andreas Brunsvold,
not a name I recognized.

"Where to? A date?"

"Sort of."

"Ah, so a 'you won't be coming home tonight'-kind of date." She winked. "Have fun, use protection." 

I simply grinned back at her and closed the door. I really had to hurry if I wanted to make it to the bus station in time, so I bolted my way from the stairs, almost bumping into one of our neighbors. She grimaced at me as I apologized swiftly and buried the letter in my backpack to swing it over my shoulder. I'd read it in the bus. 

I was panting like a madman when I got outside and waved at the bus driver just in time, who let out an aggravated sigh when I got in.

"Next time I won't wait, missy," he called, as I searched for an empty seat.

"Thank you." I smiled, and sat down, zipping my backpack open. 

I got out the wrinkled letter and as I smoothed it out, I read the mysterious content. My curious mood immediately deflated like a balloon as my eyes landed on the first sentence. A love-letter, in Johann's style. So it was him. 

I exhaled, skimming through the rest of the very short promise to take me to his bed, without any obstacles, obviously hinting at the FBI. It was just his usual, except for the different name and sender address. If he thought I was going to take this opportunity he was giving me, to hide this one from the FBI, he was an actual idiot.

I didn't bother folding it back and stuffed it in the bag, pressing my hands to my burning cheeks. 

His simple declarations of his sexual attraction towards me still got to me, even though it was downright annoying. Sexual things have never been a strong point with me. 

Suddenly, I noticed someone staring at me from the corner of my eye, so I turned my head to meet two extremely pale blue eyes, attached to a very handsome face of a brown-haired young man, probably of my age. 

He smiled at me, not looking away. I stared back at him, surprised, and paid him a hesitant smile in return, unsure of what to do. I wanted to turn back, but suddenly the boy stood up from his seat, walked over, and sat down next to me. 

I followed the movements of the very tall young man wide-eyed. Was this how Americans flirted? I had no idea.

"Hi." His smile didn't leave his face as he dropped his bag at his feet. "I'm Luka. I'm sorry I stared like that, but I was trying to figure out if we met before." 

I blinked at him. I didn't remember his face; of that I was quite sure.

"Oh yeah?" I plucked at my earrings. "And, did we?" He let out a laugh, his incredible white teeth showing.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. You go to international affairs at Elliot, right? I do too," he explained. 

I made an understanding noise, leaving my earring alone. My squared shoulders relaxed.

"Ah, that makes sense. I'm sorry, I just moved here, and DC has been so overwhelming. I hardly remember anyone I meet. I'm Sam, by the way," I introduced myself with a smile. 

Though the boy was deadly handsome, the pale blue eyes really contrasted weirdly with the rest of his complexion. A curious appearance, for sure.

"That's okay. Where're you headed?" 

His eyes slipped down to my chest, and quickly up again. I pretended I didn't notice but was a little flattered anyway. Not many men noticed my breasts. They were not non-existent, but not very evident either.

"The waterfront parks. I'm meeting someone."

"Oh, a boyfriend? Should I leave?" He grinned. A cinnamon-scent entered my senses as he shifted a little closer to let an old lady pass freely.

"No, he isn't, don't worry." Though he would make for a very good one. "And you? Where're you going?" I queried. The boy squinted his eyes, checking the bus stop we were at.

"The library. I still need to finish the thesis from yesterday. Did you do it?"

"Ja, finished it last night." I caught myself using the German word and crippled internally. "I mean, yes." Luka snickered, lights dancing in his pale eyes.

"Are you from Deutschland?"

"Oh, no, UK. I know a certain German who sometimes manages to infect me with his weird language. But you're also not from here, are you?" I had noticed the strange way he pronounced some of his words.

"Ah, yeah, shit, I thought I had it well concealed." He threw up his hands, making the corners of my mouth turn upwards. "I'm from Canada, but I grew up in Italy." Hence the tanned skin, I thought, quite pleased with my judgement. "I moved here last year," he continued. "On my own, finally. How about you?"

"I got here last January, also without my parents. I didn't even dare to ask them to go with me." I smiled in reminiscence. "They considered me a damn traitor for moving to America."

Luka laughed. "Yeah, same. My dad nearly seized me. He hasn't spoken to me since I left." His smile frozen on his face, he didn't really seem to care much. "Anyway, at what stop do you have to get off?"

"The next one. The Gelman library is also around here, isn't it? Or are you going to the public one?" 

I lifted my backpack, as Luka pressed the stop-button for me.

"I'll take Gelman, then I can walk you to your 'meeting'." He grinned, also picking up his bag. "If that's cool with you."

"Yeah, of course."