Here's chapter six!! I'm sorry, these are so boring, maybe I'll just stop doing them until I can upload regularly again...ugh this is so annoying. Well, enjoy!
Gracias! <3 vb123321
Chapter Six
♣ Josh ♣
The sound of Young's door slamming behind me did nothing to cut through the cloud of anger that was encircling me as I stormed out of his office, shoving my hands into my pockets. Wulf was standing just outside, and I tried to arrange an indifferent look on my face as he glanced at me.
"Look, kid," he began, but I cut him off, indifference flying out the window.
"Don't even start on that crap. Tell me why Pierre is leaving, why everyone is saying he's part of some foreign agency, and–"
"He is," said Wulf flatly, and as I paused, he crossed his arms. "I told you all I could, Josh; don't take it out on me. No, I know," waving aside my apologies, "I know you didn't mean to. I'm just wondering how you didn't see this coming."
That was pretty much the worst bit. How had I not realized how strangely Pierre was acting? All his little connections, all his cryptic comments that I had assumed were simply him being bigheaded, and finding that freaking arsenal in the middle of France...how could we have been so stupid? I wouldn't even have minded as much if the whole thing hadn't been so blaringly obvious, and if I didn't have to deal with –
"Astrid," I said bitterly, slapping one hand to my forehead. "What do I do with her? She's in pieces. Pierre left last night, and ever since, I've been trying to figure out from Young what is going on. You've got to be able to tell me something."
Wulf sighed, glancing at our boss's door. "I don't know that much, kid, I'm telling you. This is only, what, the fifth time we've been through this?" He shook his head. "In all honesty, I think I'm only being briefed now. I know about as much as you do at the moment."
I exhaled loudly in frustration, turning away from him. "Thanks anyway. I suppose."
The irritation that was coming off of him in waves was almost tangible, and I knew I was being a jerk, but I was so fed up with all of it that I didn't care. Stalking down the hallway, I brushed shoulders with a few people as I turned corners, mumbling apologies as I made my way into the clearer air of the courtyard that was in the center of the square the buildings made.
Crashing down on a stone bench, I ran my hands through my hair, trying to let out my aggravation. I had known the moment Astrid had rushed out of the cafeteria that everything thereafter would be a mess, and it was. She had barely talked in the past day, except to Pierre and in a very heated discussion with Alan Young that I had heard through his office door. Pierre's departure had hit both of us hard, but whereas my anger was directed at him and myself, hers was completely and utterly at Young, which I didn't completely agree with. After all, he'd never been the most revealing of guys.
But even I was a little surprised at how torn-up she was over Pierre.
"Let me come with you," she had begged him, standing in a dark hallway as he was supposed to be departing. I had been standing near them, far away enough that they didn't notice me, but close enough for me to be unfortunate enough to hear what they were saying. He was holding her forearms, their faces only inches apart, and I was about to move away when I heard what she said. Freezing, I waited for Pierre's response.
"I can't let you do that."
"Why?" Astrid's voice was pleading. "Just explain to me what's going on!"
He had sighed, stroking back her hair before stepping away from her. "I don't belong here, Astrid. It's as simple as that."
Yes. How had we not known?
It was a few days later that Astrid found me with a familiar look on her face. I was lying on my bed, struggling through a French novel on a Kindle in order to attempt to conquer the language. At first, her entrance – without knocking – was a relief, because all I had grasped out of the novel was that it was about a poverty-stricken girl, but as I caught a glimpse of her expression, the relief flew out the window and was replaced by weariness.
"What?"
She didn't react to my tone, stopping in the middle of the floor and crossing her arms. Her expression was that of the old Astrid I had known – before all the boys in her life – the one of the seven-year-old who didn't get to choose the game on the playground at recess. Defiant, rebellious, and utterly pigheaded, her face was one that I knew I would have a very difficult time arguing with. Instead, I propped myself up on one elbow, let the Kindle fall to the comforter, and prepared myself for battle.
"We're leaving," she announced, and I felt relieved that I had put down the Kindle or else I would have dropped and shattered it.
"Um..." I chose to take a neutral approach. "Where are we going?"
"Away."
I eyed her. "Does this have anything to do with Pierre? Because I am not trekking across the globe over Mr. Man in Black."
She looked affronted. "Look, Josh, I don't know what's up with you. Don't you want to know why," a strange look came over her face, "why Pierre left? Don't you want to find out what's going on?"
"Yes..." I could tell where she was going with this. "Yeah, I'm curious, Astrid, but I know you're not going after him for that reason." She actually blushed, something I hadn't seen in a while, but something else in her eyes struck me: almost a sense of desperation. Frowning at her for a moment, I tried to pinpoint exactly what it was, my eyes moving over her face and down to the grey Notre Dame sweatshirt she was wearing.
Charlie's sweatshirt.
"You don't want to lose anyone else," I said quietly, and she looked down at her feet, twisting the end of her braid. So that was it, then. First Jay, and then Charlie...did she really feel that strongly about Pierre? For the second time, I wondered if now was the right time to tell her about how her best friend had actually felt about her. Or did she know?
"Pierre said something like that, too," she mumbled. "He doesn't understand that I do care about him. He thinks it's all about Jay."
I nodded in sudden understanding. It was all about Jay.
"Astrid." I kept my voice as gentle as possible. "Just because Jay left a few years ago doesn't mean–"
Anger flared in her eyes. "It's not about him! Why does everyone keep saying that?"
"Because Pierre leaving is reminding you of Jay," I said bluntly, my patience vaporizing. "You don't realize what the rest of us can see – you don't think he's Pierre; you see him as Jay. This is your chance to undo what happened nearly three years ago, but I'll tell you something – going after Pierre won't bring Jay back to you. And it's not going to bring Charlie back, either."
A flicker of confusion passed over her face, just long enough for me to know that she didn't know about Charlie's feelings for her. I had forgotten how easily I was able to read her; how had I not noticed her reaction to seeing Jay that first time in France so long ago? Her mouth opened and then closed as my words processed, and though she obviously didn't want to admit it, she was beginning to see the point in what I had said.
"It's not about him," she repeated in a soft voice, looking like she was struggling for a counterargument. "But – Josh – I know you don't like me talking about it, but what about the picture of him Darcy found in Young's office? The one with terminate stamped across his face?"
My head jerked up in alarm. "Terminate? That's a bit strong."
She shrugged, biting her lip. "What do you think?"
I mused that one over, my eyes wandering around the room. "I dunno...he did walk out, you know, and I'm not sure if you realize this, but I'm relatively certain Delta is still after him." I gave her a moment to let that sink in and then added, "In fact, I'd be willing to bet big money that the real reason we were in France was because of him, not Cloying."
"You think I didn't figure that out?" She dropped down on my bed beside me, the defiance gone from her face, replaced by bitterness. "You think I didn't know why he sent me to France, too?"
"Of course not." I picked up the Kindle again idly, forcing my eyes back to the French script without realizing how patronizing my words sounded. "I'm just saying that you can't underestimate Delta, and especially Young. He'd probably use you to find Jay and who knows what that'll lead to. Pierre leaving is probably just another way of trying to get to you – maybe he wants you to follow him, so you can lead him to whatever agency he's in?"
The more I thought about it, the more sense it made.
Astrid, however, rolled her eyes. "Honey, it was very obvious that Young knows what agency Pierre's in. My guess it's something like with Darcy; they had an agreement or something." She frowned. "Pierre must have been good for us never to have become suspicious."
But that wasn't true, I realized suddenly. Charlie had known. Charlie had been suspicious from the start, and it turned out he was right. I felt a pang of guilt go through me and quickly arranged my face so that Astrid wouldn't realize what I was talking about; I didn't want another meltdown.
"I didn't know either," I told her. "You're right; he was good. It was our fault for not seeing through it."
Immediately she flared up again. "But that doesn't excuse Young!"
I raised my eyes to the ceiling. "So?"
"So we still need to get out of here. Go after Cloying and – um, just find Cloying on our own so that we can stop him. Young hasn't found him yet, you know, but there's no way he's going to let us go after him after France. You know that."
I swiped a page, not meeting her eyes. "You think because Young hasn't found him that we can?" In truth, I was feeling likewise, burning with resentment at Young's treatment of us. It wasn't like no one had ever messed up before, and going after Cloying was actually high on my list at that moment. Just not with only Astrid.
She shrugged. "What are we going to do here?"
"Learn to actually speak French?" I was only half-joking, but Astrid didn't seem to see it that way. A flat look was sent my way, and I placed my hand to my temple, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "One does not simply walk out of Delta and expect to get away with it."
Astrid gave me a sour look. "Thank you, Boromir."
"No problem." I rolled to my back, looking her in the eyes. "But realistically, Astrid, you think we could actually do something like that without Young on our tail the whole time?"
"Jay did," she pointed out simply, and I winced. "No, I'm not trying to make it sound like I revere him," with a touch of irritation, "but think about it logically. He was trained by Delta and has managed to avoid them all this time. Don't you think, logically, we should be able to do the same, if not better, because there are two of us?"
"What's up with all the logic? Who are you, Aristotle?"
"Josh." Her voice was so familiarly exasperated that I had to smile. "Why do you act like an idiot when you know a fact about an ancient Greek philosopher?"
"I'm being realistic!" I protested. "There being two of us does not make things less complicated; if anything, it's more. Two are harder to hide than one. Two means more bills to be paid – without Delta's credit card, I might add – two means communication problems...."
"Two means having someone who can run to get help if you're shot," she interrupted. "Didn't your parents ever make you abide by the buddy system?"
I scowled. "Yeah. That was usually you being my buddy, too."
"See?" She beamed with irrational reason. "We've been trained for this moment from an early age!"
"Okay." I took a deep breath. "Say I'm in on this – which I have not confirmed, by the way – that still doesn't explain how we're going to get out of here without anyone noticing."
Astrid shrugged. "Not a problem. How did Jay do it?"
"Is he our role model?" I asked with impatience. "He was kicked out, darling, because he was accused of murdering some agents. Do we have to go that far?"
I was awarded with another of those acerbic looks. "Why can't we just walk out? It can't be overly difficult. We can say we're going to the grocery."
"One does not simply–"
"Yes, I know!" She sighed. "What do you propose, then?"
Nudging her with my foot in a hint to leave the room, I said evasively, "I'll dwell on it. Were you really planning on leaving tonight, anyway?"
Astrid hesitated. "Well, actually–"
"We are not leaving tonight!" I objected, and she waved this away.
"No, I realize that...but please think about it quickly?" She gave me the beginnings of the puppy-dog face, and I looked at her suspiciously. "I mean – well – okay, Pierre talked to me before he left, and he mentioned that he would probably be going somewhere in the States, even though he's supposed to be going back to, um, wherever he's from. So I thought we could meet him somewhere..."
I buried my face in my pillow. "And I thought this wasn't about him?"
"Well, it was just an idea...I don't know how I would get a hold of him anyway, since his phone number's been wiped and everything."
"Has it?" I looked up, curiosity piqued. "Are you sure he wasn't the one who murdered those agents?"
"Not funny," she said softly, and I regretted my words. "Well, since I don't know how to contact him..." She vacillated a moment, and then said in so quiet a voice that I could barely make it out, "I thought maybe, just maybe – we could go home?"
There was a long silence as I processed this.
"You mean – Michigan?"
She nodded, and I rested my head on the soft coolness of my pillow again, musing over this. I hadn't seen my family in a while, it was true, but what could I possibly tell them? One of the negatives about being a teenage spy – catching up with family became very difficult. I knew Astrid wasn't thinking about her family as much as the memories associated with the area, but I also knew that as much as I hated to admit it, the events of the past month had made me a little homesick. And that home wasn't Delta.
"All right," I said after a long moment. "Let's go to Hell."
People say it's extremely difficult to get into Heaven, but at that point in time, I was finding it much harder to go to Hell. Of course, we weren't actually going to Hell, since Hell, Michigan, was only a commercial town. Astrid and I were from Pinckney, Michigan, a city outside of Hell, but we always loved to joke that we were from Hell, because who wouldn't want to say that?
I figured Young wouldn't buy our proposition of "going to the grocery," as Astrid so quaintly put it, but I knew I had to find something to persuade him, because as much as I hated to admit it, Astrid's words had really slammed me – I wanted to go home. And I wanted to find Cloying and get to the bottom of the whole mess.
The hardest part was finding a way to convince Young we had some reason to go back to Michigan. I was expecting this to take at least a minor miracle and therefore was pleasantly surprised when something came up that I wasn't expecting. It was December second, nearly a month after our little discussion, and Astrid was getting so skittish that I couldn't stand to be in the same room as her.
Almost worse than her, though, was Darcy Jones. The little Canadian followed her around like a shadow, with everything except her opinion exactly like Astrid's. Darcy never left any doubt as to where she stood on issues, and three things were definite with her opinion on Pierre's departure: she was angry for Astrid, curious for herself, and completely contemptuous of me for not seeing this coming. Astrid, naturally, was totally off the hook. Go figure.
It had been a crazy month, and I was about to up and drive away without caring about what Alan Young thought, but then the director of Delta himself gave us the perfect reason for taking a break. He approached me as I was exiting the firing range, nodding politely to the attendant as I turned in my gun and then giving me a we-need-to-talk look. Cringing slightly, I followed him out into the corridor.
"It has come to my mind," he began, "that you and Miss von Shauff need a break."
I was so shocked that my mind froze up, but my tongue had been trained with quick reaction even when my brain was slow, and so I replied, "Yeah, actually, things have been a bit tense."
He gave me a sideways glance. I looked as innocent as I could.
"Well. I can't argue with that." He was silent a moment, and I began to grow edgy, wondering if our way to get out of here was this after all. "I was thinking – since it's close to Christmas anyway – perhaps you two would want to visit your families."
My tongue might have been trained for quick action, but my feet forgot all of theirs, and I crashed to a halt, staring at him. "Visit – our families?" I managed after a moment. He nodded, looking serene, and I felt a prickle of suspicion. How had he known we had been planning to go back to Michigan, for a little while? It wasn't like he was normally a considerate person.
"Um...that would be nice." Still feeling bewildered, I kept my voice polite. "Are you sure you can spare us?"
"Oh, it will be nothing." His was jovial; he even threw in a dismissive little hand wave. "Plan on leaving within a few days, spend a couple weeks in Michigan, come back ready to have a successful assignment, and it's all good." I didn't miss his emphasis on 'successful' and felt a little flicker of anger. Did he not think we realized what he was doing by this so-called niceness?
"Thanks," I said anyway. "I really appreciate it. Astrid's a bit...worn out."
"Yes. Well, enjoy yourself, Steiner." And he disappeared down the hall.
I was still having trouble accepting this and so was in a sort of a daze as I stumbled through the hallway, wondering how my luck had taken such a turn for the better. My brain wasn't working right, and so I wasn't really surprised when I crashed into someone as I turned a corner. Papers from his arms went flying across the floor, and, muttering apologies, I stooped to pick them up.
"Watch where you're going, will you, kid?"
Glancing up, I realized it was Wulf and sat back on my heels to grin at him. "Hey, sorry about that. Lost in thought. What's up?"
He looked a little frazzled, pushing his dark hair out of his face before hunkering down to help collect the papers. "Loads of work right now, you know, with this whole mess." He winced. "Don't even ask, please."
"I wasn't going to," I said honestly; my mind was on other things. "How's Janice? Someone said she had a full recovery."
A smile lit his face. "She did. She's visiting her parents right now, actually, finally breaking the news to them of our engagement." He frowned. "Why that weird face?"
I hadn't realized I was pulling a face and tried to sort out what I was feeling. "It's just..." I bit my lip, not meeting his eyes. "You know, I'm happy for Janice and all, but Young just offered to let Astrid and I visit for a while as well, and he never lets off three agents at once. Does he?"
Wulf was quiet for a long moment, and then we both seemed to realize we were still squatting and stood up again, him shoving his papers back into a binder. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking tired, and then said, "What can I say? Yeah, it's pretty obvious Young isn't into the holiday spirit, so who knows what he's up to. I..." He hesitated a moment. "To be honest, kid, I'm thinking it's got something to do with LaPointe. Or that other kid – do you know him? – Nicholson."
My blood went cold. "Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah, I know him." Wulf was looking at me strangely, and I clenched my fists. "Now he's involved in all of this as well?"
He laughed shortly. "Being a bit naïve there, aren't you? He always was a part, don't you see? You think Cloying was the main point of interest over there in France? How do you know him, anyway?"
"I realized that, thank you," I said irritably, ignoring his last question. "I just meant..." Astrid. "Never mind." I held his gaze awkwardly a moment, and then placed the papers I had gathered on top of his binder. "Well, Merry Christmas, Wulf, since I probably won't be seeing you until after that. Good luck with the in-laws."
"Yeah." His face was unreadable for a moment, and then he grinned at me. "See you around, kid."
He turned the corner and disappeared, and I broke into a sprint, moving back towards Astrid's room and pounding on the door until I heard her voice calling in an annoyed voice for me to enter. I threw open the door with unnecessary force and she looked up with an irritated expression until she saw my own. Then she rose to her feet, her eyes widening as she met mine.
"Good news?"
I nodded breathlessly. "The best. Young just told us we have holiday leave, starting tomorrow."
She stared at me, her mouth falling open. "You mean–"
"Yeah. We're going to Hell."