Okey doke. Here’s chapter number whatever I’m on, I’ve forgotten… So, I’m wondering, who’s you guys’ favorite character??? Why don’t you comment and tell me? Maybe it’s a little early in the story… oh well, do it anyway!
Gracias! <3 vb123321
Chapter Eleven
♥ Astrid ♥
I was too tense to relax… plus, the feeling of having Pierre sitting next to me – holding my hand – was enough to make any girl feel jumpy. So I tried to concentrate on something other than the scent of Pierre – like Charlie, who looked strangely grumpy, or Josh, who was looking around in a seemingly casual manner, but in a way so that I could tell he was as tense as I was.
Was Jay in one of those cars? Had he been in the one that had smashed against the highway wall? Part of me hoped he had been – but the other part, the younger, more innocent, hopeful part prayed that he hadn’t. Because maybe, somehow, we might just… But I pushed those thoughts away. Jay probably didn’t even remember me anymore. What was I to him?
Nothing.
If I had been anything more, he wouldn’t have left.
Now I was trying to concentrate on Pierre. Struggling to keep Jay out of my mind, I reminded myself that I now had Pierre, and I did not need Jay. Still, the memory of his blue eyes was so much different than that of Pierre’s green ones, as beautiful as they were. And the light hair, flopping in front of his eyes as he laughed…
I seriously needed to get over this.
“So,” I began, in an attempt to make conversation – anything to keep my whirlwind thoughts to myself.
Charlie and Josh looked at me, raising their eyebrows in similar expressions of expectation and amusement. I suddenly found that I had nothing to say. “Nice… um… choice, Josh,” I said weakly. “The train, I mean.”
Josh snorted with laughter, turning away from me quickly. I glared at his back, having the slightest notion of what he was laughing at – I had a suspicion that it had something to do with the way Pierre was holding my hand. Charlie merely kept looking at me with an unreadable expression. He was holding his wounded arm, seemingly unconsciously; it was obviously hurting again.
I gave up all efforts of a conversation, and instead gazed around the compartment, taking in the other people. A young man and woman were sitting a little ways away from us, holding hands like me and Pierre. I noticed an engagement ring glistening on her finger… but that brought up thoughts I didn’t want to think about right now.
In the far right corner was an elderly lady, hidden behind a French fashion magazine. All that could be seen of her was a heavily feathered hat. Hiding a smile, I looked to the left corner, where a middle aged man was sitting with a briefcase and laptop, typing something and frowning at the screen.
Between him and the elderly lady sat a girl who looked like she was around eighteen years old. She was clutching her bag possessively, looking like she expected to be robbed any second. Glancing around, I could understand why. Sitting across from us was a young man of about twenty one. He wore a coat with the collar turned up despite the heat, a hat perched cockily on his head, and with a self-satisfied smirk on his face that reminded me forcibly of Jay.
He didn’t exactly look like my idea of a dangerous character, but then he looked at me with a strange look on his face, and I understood the girl’s nervousness. Pierre apparently caught the look too; he put an arm around me in a domineering grip, glaring daggers at the guy, who didn’t look at all disconcerted, but merely went back to staring at the other poor girl.
Gritting my teeth, but liking the way Pierre held me, I didn’t say anything. For a moment there was silence as we all looked around at each other – and then there was a noise from the adjoining apartment. As one, all four of us agents looked through the glass to see who it was. Three men were striding through the other compartment, wearing dark suits, their hands thrust deep in their pockets. They looked like your typical secret agent from all the movies – you know, heads down low, eyes moving quickly, hands obviously gripping weapons…could be either the bad guys, or the good guys.
Three guesses as to what they were.
Personally, I was surprised, and a little offended, that they had made it this obvious. Did they think that because they were on a train that they didn’t have to use caution? What happened to the snazzy disguises?
We stood as one, Pierre shoving me towards the back of the train. My hand was already in my pocket, reaching for my gun. I didn’t know if I’d be able to shoot Jay if he was one of the three, but I didn’t want to take any chances. We had just reached the emergency door when the men started to run toward our compartment, slamming open the door and snapping, “Stop there!”
I pushed open the emergency door as Charlie and Josh whipped their guns at the men. “Sorry, buddy,” I called, “but I don’t follow orders.”
“Stop – or she dies!”
That threw us all – usually, that “she” would be me, but seeing as I was halfway out the escape hatch, that notion seemed impossible. I froze, turning slowly back to the compartment to look at the man. He had an arm around the neck of the high school girl, his gun pointed at her head. His face was dark, eyes merciless and cold.
The other two men slid the door closed once more and spread out through our cubicle, pointing their guns at us, having decided that the other passengers weren’t dangerous enough to put up a fight. Strangely enough, even with the danger of the situation, the only thing I could think was, I’m glad Jay’s not here.
Pierre looked like he wanted to leave anyway, but I hissed, “We can’t let that girl die. You know he’ll kill her.”
I held his gaze until he nodded reluctantly, the frustration plain of his face, and then I shoved past Josh and Charlie, who tried to grab my arm. I shook him off. “All right, what do you want?” I asked the man, still holding my gun level to his and searching his face carefully. He was dark and swarthy, with thick eyebrows. In other words, typical bad guy. This in itself was perplexing.
“You,” the man said shortly.
“Only me?” I asked, slightly surprised, but my pulse quickened.
“For now,” the man leered, and Charlie moved convulsively beside me.
“You can’t have her,” he snapped.
The man laughed coldly. “You’re not in any position to bargain, boy,” he said icily, and I had to admit, he had a point. It suddenly struck me that he was speaking in English (hey, don’t judge, I know too many languages to always grasp which one I’m presently speaking)… and a horrible thought hit me. Could it be – but no, it couldn’t – could it be that Jay was behind this?
Pierre grabbed me by the shoulders. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he hissed in my ear, but I shook him off as well, annoyed. He meant well, I knew, but I hated when people told me that. I hardly knew if it was going to be stupid until I saw the outcome, could I? I glanced around us. The man with the laptop had frozen, eyes wide in terror. The creeper guy in the coat was watching with narrowed eyes.
I weighed my chances. Not bad, not bad... But not so good either. But what’s life without some fun? And so I said brazenly, “All right, so if I come with you?”
Pierre let out a strangled noise from behind me, but did nothing, thankfully. Charlie shifted slightly and I could tell he was wondering what I was thinking. Just a moment, please, I begged him silently.
The man’s gun lowered slightly. “We’ll let your friends go quietly.”
Doubtful… but worth a shot. Not a literal shot, of course.
“Release the girl,” I commanded. “Release her and I’ll come over to you.” I dropped my gun on the floor, raising my hands slightly. Josh and Charlie threw me horrified looks but I glared at them pointedly and they didn’t say anything. A dawning comprehension passed over their faces, and I faced the man again.
“All right,” he agreed, pushing the girl carelessly away from him as I started forward slowly. “Hurry!”
I stumbled a bit, and then pretended to trip over the girl’s fallen bag. In a flash, I snatched up my gun; behind me, I heard Josh and Charlie start firing rapid shots at the man’s two henchmen, who returned fire just as quickly. The man who had been holding the girl snarled angrily, pointing his own gun at me. He actually looked surprised at my actions… I mean, come on, who didn’t see that coming? Oldest trick in the book, dude, where’ve you been the last millennium?
He tried to fire at me – the nerve of him, honestly – but I shot him so fast through the head that the look of surprise was still on his face as he fell to the ground.
Then I ducked to one side as one of the other men started firing at me; the girl screamed from behind me, and the elderly lady held up her newspaper in an attempt at protection. I honestly felt a little bad for her: it wasn’t like the old piece of paper was going to help her. I rolled over, looking desperately back at the second gunman, trying to think of something to do.
There was a flash of grey: the guy passenger with the hat who had been staring at me had slammed into the gunman, knocking him off balance and sending his gun flying. I gawked at the guy with wide eyes, and he gave me a cocky smile. “Have to help a pretty girl in distress,” he said, in perfect English, but I didn’t have time to engage enough neurons to come up with an equally snappy answer. Or any answer at all. A stream of bullets slammed into the seat next to me; I rolled under it as the high school girl continued to scream hysterically.
Swearing, I peered out from under the seat. The guy had ducked away under a seat, like me, and Pierre was trying to help the girl. Josh was shaking his gun angrily, reaching into his pocket for more ammunition, and Charlie was still firing at the other gunman. Even as I stood to help him, his bullet slammed into the gunman and he slid down the wall, his eyes rolling back.
I stood there, surveying the scene. “Well…” I began.
“Astrid!” Charlie yelled, and I spun around. The other gunman – crap, where had he come from? Hadn’t I killed him? – had come to his feet, holding a very ugly-looking knife above his head, thrusting it down towards me.
I moved liked lightning, hurtling to one side. The man twisted after me and I dodged him again. Then I grabbed my gun and fired it at him.
There was a small click.
What?
I pulled the trigger again. And again.
I swore furiously, shaking my gun as Josh had just before. How the hell had I run out of bullets? It just wasn’t possible! The man charged at me again, and I rolled to one side. As he turned to face me I slammed the butt of my gun into his torso, just above his kidney. He doubled over momentarily and I took the opportunity to slam my knee into his nose.
“That’s for your buddy!” I yelled at him, driving my knee into his crotch with great satisfaction. “And that’s for you!” And for Jay, I added silently.
He groaned briefly, and then crumpled to the ground.
There was a loud silence as I stood, panting slightly, over the body of the man. The three innocent passengers were staring at me, faces white and eyes so big I thought they would pop out. The guy who had just, uh, saved my life was looking at me with something close to amusement, which I found odd. For a second, nobody moved.
The stares were seriously getting creepy. I turned to the boys, and with my best Jack Sparrow swagger, I said cockily, “I told him I didn’t follow orders.”
Josh laughed, shaking his head in mingled relief and amusement; Charlie looked a little pale, clutching his arm even tighter, and Pierre came forward, grabbing me by the shoulders and looking me right in the eye. “Don’t do that again,” he ordered, sounding utterly relieved and outrageously angry at the same time.
“Aw, come on,” I said, mildly embarrassed. “Get a grip. I’m fine.” But still, I let him kiss me as the adrenaline began to wear off.
“Right, nobody worry,” I heard Josh say to the passengers and I broke away from Pierre, slightly grudgingly. Josh and Charlie had turned away from us – unsurprisingly – and were attempting to reassure the three freaked out people who had just almost been killed. Josh wasn’t doing a very good job, so I stepped in willingly.
“Look, it’s all a movie, I promise,” I assured them convincingly, flashing a (I hope) stunning smile. “I’m the starring role, of course.” Behind me I could hear Josh snort with laughter, but I ignored him. “Now, smile and wave at the cameras!” I gave them a (false) cheery smile and waved heartily at the top corner of the compartment.
The three passengers stared at me like I was from Mars – and for all they knew, I was. But I decided not to inform them otherwise. Instead, I turned to the other passenger, who had saved my life. He gave me a cocky smile and shook his head in a gesture that stirred up some long-forgotten memories.
“Do I know you?” I asked, looking at him closely. He flashed me a quick smile, this time friendly instead of, well, perverted.
“Sydney, Australia, remember?”
He spoke with a heavy British-Aussie accent, which jogged my memory.
I frowned at him, thinking back. When had I been in Australia? – two, three years ago, was it now? But what…It hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I think I actually staggered back in surprise.
I had been almost fourteen in Sydney, with… my throat closed… Jay. My last assignment with him before he left Delta. It had been baking hot – much like here – with no rain whatsoever… had it been the Indonesian mafia or the terrorists…? I couldn’t remember the exact details: all my other assignments were blurring together. All I knew was that Jay and I had been alone for once; our own assignment – and then it had all come crashing down.
The only one I ever failed, I thought bitterly, and looked closer at the guy. He looked like an Australian surfer, with longish sandy hair and a tanned face. His eyes were a light brown that twinkled merrily. A name tugged at the tip of my tongue… what was it...?
“Wait,” I said slowly, “Stephen something?”
He grinned at me, nodding. “And you’re Astrid von Shauff,” he replied easily. “I never forget a name, or a face.”
“I can tell,” I muttered, trying not to sound annoyed. Was I that memorable? I didn’t think I wanted that particular question answered. “But why are you here? Who are you with again – SIS, MI6?”
Stephen shrugged mysteriously, instead looking at the boys, who were standing slightly beside me, looking lost. “All of you are in the CIA?” he questioned, raising a slight eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Josh corroborated, lying smoothly even with the bewilderment plain on his face. Delta was as yet unknown to the other countries in the world, and the President wanted to keep it as such. So it was our duty (or more like our forced signing of the Official Secrecy Act or whatever) to keep it that way.
Stephen nodded slowly, looking at me carefully. “Now I remember,” he mused, and I felt a sudden flash of fear, “you were with – who? One of these boys?” He gestured at my companions. Pierre threw me a confused look, which Josh copied; Charlie, however, was beginning to look at me with something close to suspicion.
“No,” I said warily. “Another agent… he’s not with us.”
And I remembered as well. Jay and I had been running from the Indonesian mafia after all. We were supposed to be doing a training session in Australia with the intelligence group SIS, jumping out of planes and boring stuff like that, instead of actually spying. Of course, knowing me, we ran into a spot of trouble along the way, which complicated manners. Basically, Jay got into a fistfight with an Indonesian guy who tried to dance with me at some club. Not a huge offense, it might seem, but Jay obviously thought otherwise. So Jay beat the crap out of him, and the mafia decided we were enemies. And after some careful research, they discovered we were spies, and therefore huge targets.
I won’t go into the details of the events that followed… you don’t want to know. No, you really don’t. Basically, they made life miserable for a couple weeks… and then, of course, Alan Young, the director of our branch of Delta, got royally pissed at us for getting “off topic” or something. Which was most definitely was not my fault. Had I been the one to beat the guy up? I mean, if Jay hadn’t, I would’ve, but that was beside the point.
Thinking about it, I made a mental note to yell at Jay again for it next time I saw him.
Then I remembered that I didn’t want to see him anymore.
Or did I?
Well, anyway, so then we had met Stephen, who was with the group of SIS men we were supposed to be with. He had gotten us out of a few tight spots and helped us redeem ourselves slightly in the eyes of Young by assassinating the Indonesian mafia leader. Well, that was actually an accident involving an umbrella and a can opener, but again, that’s another story. No, I’m serious, you don’t want to hear it. But all in all, it ended in a helpful victory for us, and one-up in the eyes of Young, also helpful. Thinking about it really brought back good memories...
And quite a few bad as well.
However, I really, really wanted to stay away from the topic of Jay, so I quickly said, “Why are you here?” to Stephen, who immediately looked away. He glanced from the high school girl, who was sitting shakily on a bench, her hands pressed over her mouth and her eyes popping; to the old lady, who was still hiding behind her newspaper busily; and the typing man, who had dropped his laptop and was now looking forlornly at the two halves he had left.
“SIS?” the girl repeated weakly, mostly to herself. “This is a movie.”
I was still looking at Stephen for an answer to his question. It only then occurred to me that if he answered, he’d probably ask the same of me – and there was no way I was answering that one.
“Just…” Stephen seemed at a loss for words.
“Vacationing?” Charlie offered sarcastically, and then louder, “Come on, Astrid, the train’s slowing and this is our stop.”
Josh was already at the door of the compartment, looking nervously out. I exchanged a glance with Pierre, who still had a hand on my arm, and then glanced back at Stephen. I itched to ask him something, but I couldn’t in front of Pierre.
Instead, I said quietly, “Thanks. You saved my life – again.” I couldn’t help feeling slightly resentful at this: no capable spy likes admitting that their life needed saving… unless it’s at the hands of an incredibly hot guy. Then it’s tolerable. Slightly.
He raised a hand briefly, still looking at me curiously, but I followed Pierre to the door as the train screeched to a stop. As Josh and Charlie, in front of me, stepped out of our compartment and towards the exit, I paused and turned back to look at the SIS man, who was standing in the wrecked room.
“Oh,” I added, as an afterthought, “would you mind taking care of this mess as well?” I looked pleadingly at him; there was no way I wanted to go through the hassle of going to the police, explaining the situation, and explaining who I was, while helpfully in a foreign country. Plus having to somehow convince the three passengers that what they saw was, actually, a set in a movie and not a real life scenario.
Stephen sighed, glanced around, but nodded, if somewhat reluctantly. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get help from the SIS anyway. Me getting help from Delta would be more difficult. He looked at me for such a long time that I thought he would say something, but he remained silent. But then, as I began to leave, he called out suddenly, “If you need any help – while you’re here in France – just give me a call.”
“Give you a call?” I repeated. “With what number?”
He smiled. “I thought you never forgot a phone number.”
I winced, this memory coming back to me. “Um, well, that was two and a half years ago,” I said weakly, and he laughed.
“Come on,” he said encouragingly. “578…”
“987-6543,” I completed automatically, without even thinking about it, and then stopped suddenly. “How the heck…”
Stephen laughed again, and said, “I decided to take you at your word. Apparently, your memory is even better than I thought.”
I shook my head in wonder. Wow, this guy knew more about me than I did, which was actually rather startling. “Well, thanks anyway,” I said, grinned at him, and then took the hand Pierre was impatiently offering me, hoisted my bag back over my shoulder, and sauntered out of the compartment, feeling overjoyed with the world in general… except for, well…
But I was not thinking about Jay.