"Puis- je vous aider, manquer?" (Can I help you, miss?)
Jumping slightly, my head shoots up, noticing the bouncer for the first time. I didn't notice him off to the shadows slightly, standing by the doorway. Straightening up, I flash a shy smile toward the man. I put on some charm, fluttering my eyes a couple times to appear innocent.
"Non, monsieur. Merci bien que." (No, sir. Thank you though.)
He smiles warmly, the smile looking foreign on his chiseled face. He stands 6 foot tall at most, his wide shoulders making him seem broader. His brown hair is slicked back neatly, a few stray curls brushing against his suit collar.
"Vous êtes les bienvenus, madame. Bonne soirée." (You are welcome, ma'am. Have a good evening.)
"Merci, monsieur. Et vous aussi bien," (Thank you, sir. And you as well.) I answer. The man nods, stepping to the side to let me through the building. I quickly begin walking and I subtly glance behind my shoulder, waiting until I am far enough away from the bouncer.
"I'm in," I say. If there was people,in the hallway, they may think I am talking to herself. But if they are close enough to see, they will notice a small comm hidden behind my hair.
"Well done, Jessica. Do you remember what to look for?" a voice crackles softly through the earpiece.
"A tall, blonde man in a black suit with a purple tie. has a slight twitch in his left eye, his right thumb is slightly bent outward," I recite from perfect memory.
"You sound like you won't have a problem."
I smirk slightly as I enter the ballroom. "Piece of cake."
I step into the ballroom, soft jazz music filling the air. People surround the room, talking or dancing. The atmosphere is gleeful and relaxing, no signs of trouble. The perfect hiding place.
I scan the room, watching all the guests carefully. Blonde man in a black suit. I slip through the crowd toward the stage where the band is playing an upbeat song. My smile is genuine for once as I walk past. Music is one thing that always made me happy. It sets me in a better mindset if I ever get emotional or stressed. It had a calming quality to it, no matter the genre.
"Any sign yet?" the voice asks in my ear.
"Cool your jets, Clint. It's kind of hard to find one person in a huge crowd," I say under my breath.
Tapping my foot to the beat of the drums, I watch the crowd carefully. I can't risk missing anything important. I turn to face the stage, my eyes on the other side of the stage where couples are dancing. I stop when she see a flash of color that stands contrast to the darker clothing everyone wears. My lips curve into a smirk, knowing my search is over. "Found him."
He, the tall blonde man, stands off to the side, watching the band and dancing couples. He had his right hand shoved into his pocket so I can't see it, but I just barely notice a small twitch in his left eye. Of course, the purple tie is obvious too. This is my guy.
I walk around the stage toward the man. Not wanting to seem suspicious, I walk past him as if I have my mind set on something else. As I walk past, I catch the man's eye, giving him a small smile and looking away coyly. As I pass him, I can practically feel his eyes on me as I walk away. I try hard not to flinch. I absolutely hate it when people stare at me. It makes me feel self conscious. Once I reach one of the refreshment tables, I let out a breath of air, ordering a glass of punch.
"Let's hope this works. He was watching me closely," I mutter before taking a sip from my drink.
"Your assumption is correct. He's on his way over. Keep it steady," comes from the comm.
I straighten my back, forcing a smile on my face in a cheerful appearance. I glance over at him from the corner of my eye as he approaches the table. Turning fully, I smile up at the man gently. "Bonjour, Monsieur," (Hello, sir) I say, setting down my glass.
He has a smug grin on his lips. I know in a moment that he knows something was up. I can't let the façade down though. So I keep on, playing innocent. My smile remains in place as I keep my eyes on him. "Vous ne semblez pas très français. Alors, pourquoi ne parlez-vous la langue?" (You do not appear to be French. Then why do you speak the language?)
My smile falters slightly then I chuckle. I nod my head, lifting my eyes up to look at him. "Alright, you're good. Yes, I'm from the states. Came to see an old friend who invited me here."
The man 'ah's, nodding then holding out a hand to her. His thumb is crooked just like the description in his file read. "Michael Kelly," he introduces.
I take his hand in a shake, "Alice Carter." Obviously I am using an alias. I'm not stupid enough to keep using my real name, especially is,something went wrong.
Mike brings my hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. I have to force myself not to shudder. I am always happy to see a man act like a gentleman, but not one who is my enemy.
"A lovely name for a lovely woman," he approves, straightening up from his slight bow. Letting my hand go, he holds out an arm to me. "Care to join me outside on the balcony?"
I hesitate slightly, looking down. What should I do? "Yes, say yes," the voice in her comm answers my unspoken quoestion in a whisper. I raise my head, smiling. I brush my hair away from my comm free ear, subtly pulling away a mini tracker that hides underneath my ear. "Sure, why not?" I shrug, slipping that hand through the crook of his elbow.
Mike leads me through the crowd, to a pair of French doors that leads to a balcony overlooking the city. We step out onto the balcony a cool breeze of air hitting us. We walk away from the doors, escaping the crowds. I was relieved of this. There was no need to cause havoc when this can be done quickly and quietly.
"Paris is so lovely at night," I think of a topic quickly, releasing Mike's arm. I stride over to the railing, leaning over it as I scan the streets below. Good, no one around to hear or see any signs of a toustle should it happen. That would cause problems in short order. "Have you been here before?" Mike questions. He still is over by the doorway, not having moved since I walked away. I pause slightly, biting my lip as I debated on what to say. I turned off my comm to prevent from Clint being too loud. "No. My first time," I admit. That was the truth. This was my first time overseas.
When I hear the click of a gun, I stiffen up immediately. Oh no. I whirl around toward Mike, knowing I was caught. He is closer now, a few yards away with a pistol in his hand, the barrel aiming at me.
"Who are you really, Alice Carter?" he asks, the sultry tone in his voice gone. "I know about the agency you work for. I was warned of you coming."
I chuckle nervously, mentally having to prepare myself for what is about to go down. This has just gotten a lot harder. There is no way out of here now. I have to accomplish this. Glancing over Mike's shoulder, I notice the curtains had been closed. Oh thank goodness. No one could see us now. Citizens shouldn't know what was happening. No need to cause a panic. Reverting my eyes back to the man who held me at gunpoint, I hold my breath. "Busted," she squeak.
Mike steps closer, just an arm's length away. The perfect distance. "I know what you're after. I'm afraid you won't have any luck on retrieving it."
I smile darkly, ready to play rough. "I think I will." I grab his hand that grips the gun, turning around into his chest. Ripping the gun from his hand, I whip back around, pointing it at him. "Hand over the flash drive, Michael. And we'll go easy on you," I warn, a dark, threatening tone in my voice.
We have a small stare down, waiting for the other person to make a move. Mike smirks, reaching into his suit pocket. I grip the gun tighter in case he pulls out another weapon. He pulls out a small object instead. A flash drive. "You mean, this?" he asks. With that, he leaps off the balcony.