AMANDA LAVALLEY

H

unt

For

The Disciple

--CURIOSITY—

New York City, a place known for its all to busy climate. Where the air smelled industrialized, car fumes and cigarette smoke mixed in as one. People honked car horns impatiently, unknowing that they were going where everyone else was, work. To on lookers it was a pure replication of a huge chaotic mess. Morning commuters were yelling out of taxi windows, blaming cars in front of them for traffic, like it would change anything. Commuters rushed and scurried past one another, amazingly not crashing, looking like rats in a sewer. Few walked slow paced dressed in tacky clothes knowing that they wouldn't get to work on time even if they ran. Occasionally one would take out a cigarette and light it up, just adding to the cloud of fumes and smoke hazing over the city streets. Hobos hung around in their usual alley as they did every day of their poor weathered lives. Once in a while one would venture out carefully onto the busy city sidewalks and ask for food or money, only to be ignored by the business people. But that day god decided to be forgiving and shown light upon the face of a homeless woman and her little daughter. A young woman dressed in a dark fairly new business suit walked up to the two, and reached into her pocket. Her red hair was pulled back professionally, little wisps of hair still managing to escape from their hold. She handed the mother and twenty dollar bill and kneeled down to the daughter and did the same, wrapping it in her fist. Happiness radiated off of the little girl and she lunged at the stranger wrapping her arms around her tightly. The woman patted her back gently, almost getting knocked over with the force of gratitude in the little girl's hug. The woman stood and smiled at the two once more before disappearing into the New York Streets. Clara Anne Jacobsin walked through the streets with a pleased looked artfully placed upon her face. Weaving through the crowds swiftly, the commuters almost had to dodge the glow of happiness around her, less they too wanted to be ensnared by it. Satisfaction filled her fiery green eyes, satisfaction that she was able to get food into the bellies of a mother and daughter who seemed so carelessly thrown out on the streets. She kept walking unaware of a man who followed her just as swiftly, his own eyes gleaming with admiration and curiosity.

He had witnessed her giving two homeless people money and respect immediately formed for her. She was so kind and caring to people that she didn't know, and yet he knew that she was some form of authority. Not a cop though, she wasn't as stiff and square shouldered as a cop, she didn't walk around and show off her power to everyone else. She walked slyly like a fox and knew her surroundings well. She seemed to know and spot every little detail and aspect of her surroundings with those green eyes. She had to be an FBI agent. He knew what her occupation was and still he pursued her, ignoring the danger and question of whether his reputation in Italy was known of in the United States. Still he did have precautions that he took, his appearance was different and he pursued her very carefully far away enough that he could see her but not set off any alarms in her head. If she did notice his baseball cap worked good at hiding his face. He felt an urge to meet this woman, young lady, even though he knew not what their meeting would bring upon them both.

--MEETING WITH THE ENEMY--

Clara stopped in at an old dinner for lunch. The air smelled of bacon grease and eggs, and the place was hazed over with heat. As always it was just the usuals dining in. Clara sat in her normal seat, three booths from the from the front on her right side. After a few days of inspecting this seat seemed to have the best view. After a few moments the waitress came out with a cup of coffee and Clara's favorite lunch. A BLT loaded with extra bacon and a heaping side of corned beef hash. After a bit of ketchup she began to eat the wondrous food in front of her. Of course she ate slowly, wanting to admire every zing of flavor that pleasantly scorched the taste buds inside her mouth. Clara's eyes subconsciously scanned the diner for any new sit in eaters. There was just one, a man with his back to her, a blue baseball cap upon his head. Once Clara's food and coffee was gone, the waitress came over and took them from her, Clara thanking the chef for a good meal yet again as she paid the check, a ten dollar tip on the table. She left not once looking back at the diner, not even noticing the eyes that followed her.

The streets cleared up a good amount while Clara was eating, and only a few stragglers were left. The ones that were constantly late for work, not caring if they lost their boring jobs. Clara walked slowly admiring sounds of the late morning commute and the smell of the air, trying to place it into her memory for later. She was to be forced into a conference room filled with over prideful men. The smell of exhaust cigarettes and body odor was an aroma compared to the smell of twenty men wearing over excessive amounts of cologne. Clara stopped at the Dunkin doughnut and bought herself a decaffeinated coffee. She paid and left standing out on the sidewalk for a few minutes. She watched as cars zoomed by and teenagers were starting to leave their stuffy apartments for another day of high school. They hurried down the sidewalks backpacks so low that they bumped into the backs of their legs slowing them slightly. Boys with pants almost down to there knees tried to keep up and eventually failed huddling into a group together walking slowly a slight hop in their step. All of a sudden Clara was shoved roughly her coffee leaving her hand and hitting who ever shoved her. A business man stood before her, his light colored suit now held a large coffee stain across the front. His cell phone hit the ground and Clara blinked at the sound. Her coffee that had hit him also stained her pants and almost filled her shoes. Clara bent down and quickly retrieved he man's cell phone trying to wipe off the coffee on it. She handed back to the man and he snatched it out of her hand as if she was going to break it. A scowl was plastered on his etched out face. Wrinkles in his forehead showing moments of past frustration. He shoved the cell phone roughly into his pocket and bent down grabbing his suitcase off the ground.

"I truly am sorry sir," her voice was soft and musical. Each tone seemed perfect and sweet, her voice holding sincerity. Clara handed him her Dunkin Doughnuts napkin and he wiped himself off throwing the napkin to the ground.

"You betta be sorry. Next time watch where that pretty little ass of yours is going and try to stay outta my way." The business man grumbled in his filthy New York accent and stomped by shoving Clara again. She could hear him huffing and puffing about his meeting while stomping off. Clara looked at her feet and sighed, slowly bending down to get her spilled coffee cup, only to have a blue baseball cap block her view. Her small and straight nose brushed the hat slightly as she stood simultaneously with the stranger, smelling nothing but a sweet aroma of mixed spices.

"Let me help you with that miss…," His voice was smooth and deep, at the end of each syllable there seemed to be a hidden metallic tang. His accent was foreign, European. Clara listened carefully, her first guess was Italian.

"I'm Clara.. Clara Anne Jacobsin, and you are," Her voice replied with its sweet flow,

"I am Doctor Caleb Lee Ansom. Let me get that for you miss Jacobsin," Clara smiled at the kind-hearted doctor in front of her and they both stood for a minute studying each other closely. His face narrowed from his cheek bones to his chin and his nose was downwardly long and curved slightly at the end, making it look cuter. His smile seemed kind but also hinted at past secrets that, if revealed, could ruin him. His cheeks dimpled and almost seemed to swirl. His eyes were a pale blue and his hair black, the baseball cap hiding the style. His face seemed perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Clara seemed to be captivated by his eyes the most, though they were warm at the moment there seemed to be a wall behind them hiding emotions, except for curiosity. He looked to be in his late 20s early 30s right around her own age.

To him, she was the ideal young lady. Her face was oval but not completely egg shaped as one would expect at hearing oval. Her face seemed perfectly symmetrical except for the fact that the dimple in her right cheek was slightly deeper that the one in her left. Her lips were thin and yet full, the color of a rosy red. She was young perhaps entering her late twenties. Her green eyes held past memories, burdens and life choices that had hurt her, leaving a terrible scar. Her light brown hair contrasted perfectly with her eyes and pale flawless skin. It was pulled back into a high pony tail, loose wisps on each side of her face. Finally the tension in the silence was broken by Dr. Ansom.

"It seems that the man who so rudely shoved you was also rude enough to leave you here without offering a napkin or anything. Here take this and see if you can wipe up a little bit," His voice hinted toward anger inside, but Clara did not ask question. She took the hand kerchief from the man's hand and his soft finger slid over hers sending sparks up her arm. She bent and wiped her feet and legs gently, trying not to show the scar that ran from her knee to her ankle.

"Thank you, Dr. Ansom," Clara smiled at the beauty hidden in his name and shook his hand as she said it over again in her head, " For your help. It is nice to see another person who isn't a rude snob like most these days." Dr. Ansom smiled and laughed deeply sending shivers up Clara's spine. His smile showed pointed precise teeth which seemed to shine slightly.

"Yes, well I am glad that I could be of service. I really do detest rude people. When I saw that man and what he had done to you, it seemed to cook up a storm inside of me. Don't people like that just make you want to strangle um," his voice held menacing feelings and Clara smiled uneasily, questions flying around in her head, demanding some sort of answer.

"Yes well , I guess that in a way you are right, but I wouldn't kill someone over it. It's my job to find the people who do. He was in a hurry and frustrated about being interrupted. Plus he must have had an important meeting judged by the way e was dressed. He was just stressed out," For some reason Clara felt like she had to defend the man, like something bad was going to happen to him. After a few minutes of Dr.Ansom's eyes on her Clara shifted from foot to foot and felt the need to get out of the situation at hand and fast.

"Well, doctor. I should be heading out for I too have a meeting to attend too. Thank you so much for you help, I owe you one. Here is my card if you need anything. If you do just call my cell written on the back." Clara turned and walked down the street feeling his eyes on her back.

"Bye, bye Special Agent Jacobsin. See ya soon."