Zach nodded lazily to the large doorman as we made our way out of the building.
Another model was following us out, chatting energetically on her cell phone. Zach acted like the gentleman he wasn't and held the door for her. I stood there, but with a roll of his eyes, he gestured for me to go too.
As I made my way out into the afternoon sun, I collided with a man who seemed in a hurry to get somewhere. We both fell to the ground. Zach, already five steps ahead of me, spun around.
"I'm so sorry," I told him as I picked up my bag. I was doing that a lot lately. I was a klutz in a sea of gracefulness. People in Paris walked down the street like they were all fashion models who owned the runway.
He never said a word, but jumped to his feet and continued the way he was originally going, his head down and his feet shuffling fast.
"That was rude," I mumbled to Zach. But he wasn't listening. "What's wrong?"
"He was standing out here when I came in. That was nearly an hour ago." He began to follow the man.
I kept up with his swift pace. "Do you think he's up to something?"
"I'm going to find out," Zach said.
We slowed a little so we didn't look as suspicious, our strides syncing as we walked side-by-side. The man continued on his unknown journey and never looked back.
We followed him for at least ten minutes. We went down small streets, crowded streets, even through alleys. We got to a street flooded with tourists when he suddenly turned around. Zach and I hid ourselves among the crowd, my heart thumping rapidly.
Quickly, with my handy sunglasses, I snapped a picture of the man’s bearded face. Almost instantly, he started off again. We couldn't lose him. There was something strange about him. He began to take bigger steps, his pace quickening. He knew he was being followed.
He wandered into a shady alley when he broke into a run. Zach sprinted like he expected it all along. "Stay here!" he yelled over his shoulder. Yeah right! There was no way I was staying behind. I dashed after the two of them, my adrenaline racing.
The alley was long and dark. Not to mention dirty and smelly. Cold water splashed up from puddles and onto my pants as I ran. Zach was fast. Really fast. I couldn’t lose them or I’d be the one lost in the middle of Paris.
It became harder to run as the bottoms of my shoes became stickier from the garbage strewn on the cobblestoned ground. This job was far from glamorous.
Things didn’t get any easier as I exited the alley. I came to another street lined with shops and tourists. I plowed through them. At first, I kept apologizing for bumping into them. After saying “Sorry!” ten times, I soon ignored the bitter glares from people trying to pick up their bags I had so ungraciously knocked from their arms. Zach was getting further away. It would be only too easy to lose him in the crowds of people.
The man ran into the middle of the road, causing near crashes on a street already plagued by enough reckless drivers. The honking of horns and screeching of tires became ear-splitting. So much for trying to stay undercover. Shoppers and tourists were casting curious glances around them, searching for the source of the chaos.
Like the man and Zach before me, I darted between the buses and taxis until I was safely on the other side of the street. I dodged more angry pedestrians, nudging them to the side with my elbows. I was getting closer to Zach. His dark hair and clothes stood out among the flocks of tourists. The bearded man continued to run. I had doubts when we first started following him, but he was running. If someone ran, they usually had a secret they didn’t want anyone to find out.
I was nearly behind Zach when I was intercepted by two rough arms. They grabbed me by my shoulders and held me back.
“Let me go!” I yelled without thinking. My first thought was that I was caught by the bearded man’s accomplice. He would grab me and Zach wouldn’t even know I’d have disappeared.
The man forcefully turned me to face him as I struggled ferociously. In mid-kick, I was startled to see it was a French policeman. His face, hidden behind a dark mustache, didn’t look too happy. Other agents had gotten arrested by the local police before while on missions. It sort of came with the job. Luckily, all law enforcement officials learned a secret code that revealed our occupation. Then we were free to go. We were kind of a team.
“Why so fast little girl?” he asked as he pulled me to the side of the sidewalk, out of the pedestrians’ ways. A blush crept along my face as they walked past, staring at me. Now I knew what it was like to be on the other side of a rubbernecking situation.
I saw Zach getting smaller, his figure disappearing into the crowd. I was going to lose him!
“Did you know Allan Pinkerton founded the first intelligence agency in America,” I said, referring to the man responsible for spying for the Union during the Civil War. It was around that time when he established the first espionage agency (CIA history class was my favorite subject at the headquarters).
The cop nodded quickly and, without a word, let go of my arm. I broke into a sprint down the street. Zach had just turned down another alley.
I followed, losing my sandal in the process. “Gross!” I said to myself as my bare foot made contact with the slimy ground. I turned around, but forced myself to keep running. I didn’t have time to care about a sandal. Even if it was from one of the most expensive stores in Los Angeles.
I lost Zach for a second, but the crowd ahead of me parted to the side, clearing the way. I knew right away that was where Zach and the man were. I charged after them, but no one parted for me. Again I had to resort to shoving people to the side. I was positive that I got cursed at in five different languages.
Zach sprinted down the metro steps. Great, more people!
I ran down the steps two at a time, knocking people coming up right back down again. There was no stopping this man. It was just like a criminal to try and escape using one of the busiest metro systems in Europe. He probably knew this place better than we did.
He led us down the tracks and through a construction barricade on the platform. He doggedly turned a corner at the last second. I saw Zach, his speed almost causing him to fall over, make a sharp turn into an empty hallway. I followed, a painful side sticker slowing me down. I always hated running, but it came with the job. There was always a downside to each job. Or a few downsides, in my case.
I turned sharply, colliding with Zach. I grasped at his arm to stop my fall. He promptly pushed me away.
“I thought I told you to stay there,” he said as he gasped for breath.
“I wasn’t...just going...to stand...there,” I told him breathlessly, barely hearing myself over the thumping of my heart. It would take ages for its pace to get back to normal. “Where did he go?” I asked, looking around.
Zach shook his head. “I don’t know. He just disappeared.”
We stood there, catching our breath, when suddenly we were both grabbed roughly by the back of our necks.
It was the man! Where did he come from? I should have been paying more attention! He had one hand clutching Zach’s neck and the other clutching mine. He was so strong! Before we had time to fight back, he dragged us both to the tracks and banged both of our heads together like symbols. The hard crack echoed throughout the empty part of the metro. With a rough push, Zach and I were flung to the tracks feet below and left completely disoriented as he fled.
My brain was still rattling as I struggled to pull myself up. Zach had a hard head. Literally.
I finally lifted my head high enough to look around. The man was gone. I couldn’t see him, but it didn’t help that I was seeing more spots than anything else.
Zach sat up, holding his head in both hands. “Are you supposed to hear roaring when you hit your head?” he asked.
I listened closely. The roaring wasn’t in his head. It was the subway coming down the tracks. I jumped up dizzily, staggering sideways. “We have to get up!” Zach clumsily lifted himself, the lights from the train coming into full view. I couldn’t wait for him to take his sweet time. I grabbed his arm and lifted him up hard in my panic. The lights were blinding and we would be squashed if we didn’t move.
I climbed the small wall to the platform, pulling Zach up behind me. We fell to the solid ground, our faces taking most of the blow. It was day one and we were already getting beat up.
The subway roared past, its rushing air blowing my hair back. I watched the wheels, screaming along the metal tracks, and shivered. How would it feel to be grinded up in those things? Not good.
Zach clenched his jaw. Where was the thank you? I sat there, waiting. Instead I got: “You pulled something in my shoulder!” He rubbed his right shoulder roughly.
I ignored him. Obviously, I didn’t feel like apologizing. "There was something not right about him," I said. “Why would he have run if he was innocent?”
"We lost him now. We just have to keep a lookout for him." He sighed. "Now we have to find our way back to where I parked the car." That would be a mission within itself.
We started our long walk back. And I mean long walk. Our legs and heads were killing us and I only had one shoe. The only thing I wanted was to get back to the hotel and put a nice cold pack of ice on my forehead.
We even had to ask for a map. The face of the women who helped us was priceless. She probably thought we were mugged or something. She would have never believed what actually happened.
Back in the hotel, Zach sat down at the table, still strewn with papers and notes. I glanced at some of them. They were bios of models.
"Are these the models that were killed?" I asked him as I pulled out a chair and sat down, maintaining the usual safe distance of three feet between us.
He nodded and turned on his laptop. "Now we have to find out how."
With a few punches of the keys, Fred's office appeared on the screen. Fred came into the shot. I found myself strangely calmed at seeing his face. It was something warm and familiar within all of the unknown.
"How are things in my former continent?" he teased.
"Fred, how exactly were these models killed?" Zach asked right away.
Fred didn't hesitate. "Brutally. But in different ways. One was stabbed, another shot. One was strangled. One drowned. Some poisoned. Some bodies haven't even been recovered yet. They're simply reported missing."
I shivered. According to their bios, some were barely older than me.
"Why do you ask? Any suspects?"
"Well one, maybe," Zach said.
I jumped into the conversation. "I took a picture. Can you look into him?"
"I'll try my best, love," Fred said.
I connected the glasses to the computer. The picture of the man downloaded on the screen, his beady eyes staring right at me. It made me queasy. There was definitely something up with him. I emailed the picture to Fred, glad to get it off of the screen.
"I'll do it as soon as possible," he replied.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
"We have to go," Zach said quickly and closed the laptop with a hurried snap. The two of us frantically tried to gather the papers on the table, messing up the organized piles and groups.
"See who it is," Zach whispered as he tossed the files and papers underneath the sofa cushions.
I went to the door and glanced cautiously through the eyehole, but I didn't see anybody. I opened the door slowly, looking left and right down the long hallway, only to find nothing. As I closed the door confused and slightly anxious, I noticed a bouquet of red roses down at my feet. A card was nestled in the flowers, my name neatly written on the front in red pen. Who could have sent these?
My heart skipped a little. Maybe it was Dylan! But I quickly disposed of the thought. I wasn't there to date. Besides, I only knew him an hour or so.
I pulled the card from the bouquet.
Welcome to the industry. Watch yourself, or you may end up like her.
The blood drained from my face. How did this person know I was here? And who was her? "Zach!" I called frantically.
"You have an admirer already?"
I shook my aching head and handed him the card. His eyes darted across the card and his lips mouthed the terrifying words written in red ink. Suddenly he grabbed the flowers from my limp hand and brought them to his nose. What was he checking for? A bomb? A gag sounded from his throat and he looked at me, pale and wide-eyed. "Blood," he managed to say.
"What!" I touched one of the flowers in disbelief, only to my horror, to have my fingers stained red. Underneath the blood, the roses were actually white!
“It's fresh." He grabbed my hand and studied it.
I couldn't breathe. This was far more serious than I had originally thought. This murderer wasted no time in working for the welcoming committee. After ripping my hand from Zach’s hold, I ran to the sink and began to scrub my hands violently in steaming water.
"You have to leave. This person knows you're here," Zach said sternly as he came up behind me.
I shook my head and turned off the water. "I can't go home. We haven't even been here one day.” I tried to plead with him, to look him in his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at me. “This is my job!” I cried.
"Laura, this isn't an evil scientist or a crazy magician. This is a murderer. A brutal one." He made his way to the computer. "I'm telling Fred."
"No!" I yelled and blocked him, gripping his arms as I begged. "He'll take me out." I wanted to solve this. It would be impossible to go home and act normal now. This was personal now that I was involved. "Please.”
I saw him forcing his mouth to say “no,” but he sighed. "Come on. We have to get to your fitting." He pulled his arms away from me and crossed them over his chest.
In the lobby, I made my way to the front doors. Slyly, I studied the people around me. Any one of them could have sent me those flowers. The girl reading a book in the soft armchair. The handsome man texting on his phone. The older woman struggling to get into the crowded elevator with her many shopping bags. No one was innocent.
Zach was no longer behind me. He was standing at the front desk, his fingers drumming impatiently as he waited to speak to the woman behind the desk. Obviously he didn’t like relaying his plans to me.
She hung up her phone and smiled sweetly at Zach, a slight blush working its way across her cheeks.
"Ms. Blake had flowers delivered to her room. Who dropped them off?" His tone was harsh, as if he was accusing her of leaving the sick present outside the room.
"No one, Monsieur Warner." She eyed him suspiciously. "Why?" She giggled. "Are you jealous?"
He backed away from the woman as she leaned in closer, her abnormally large chest in full view.
"No. As her bodyguard, I have to know these things. You can never be too safe." He lowered his voice. "Especially now, with the murders," he whispered.
She got serious and sat back down in her seat, hiding her chest behind the tall desk. "Of course. I will keep my eyes opened for anything out of the ordinary. I assure you she will be safe." She gave Zach an affirming nod.
"Thank you."
I wouldn't let Zach know how terribly frightened I was.
And I wouldn't let him know how terribly I needed him.
“Let’s go,” he said as he met me at the rotating lobby doors and placed a hand protectively on the small of my back. This time I didn’t flinch away.