Chapter 1: Contemplative

I was standing at the intersection of Main Street and Bell Road, surrounded by a crowd of people waiting to cross the street. Skyscrapers towered around me, like giant concrete trees. Obnoxious noises emerged from the clumps of cars that were gathered around each other in a line, waiting for the stoplight to turn green.

The little green walking man lit up across the street, signaling the transfer in the flow of pedestrian traffic. I walked across the street, weaving through the mass of pedestrians. I had to keep moving.

I knew they were behind me; why wouldn't they be?

I was a threat. I was fraternizing with the enemy.

They had almost gotten me several blocks back, when I stopped to catch my breath. I wasn't about to make that mistake again.

I swiftly walked down the sidewalk, trying to think. I needed to loose the men following me (which wasn't about to be an easy task). I took a left on the corner and made my way to the most sophisticated system of mass transit in the world: the subway.

Slightly tumbling down the stairs, I made my way around citizen after citizen before jumping the last leg of stairs. As soon as I landed I took off in a dead sprint. The stalkers were close; it seemed like they weren't trying to be subtle any more.

I jumped the ticketing rotation bar and threw myself a couple of feet through the closing door of a subway train. I heard the men hit the side of the train, banging on it, demanding that the train be stopped. I laughed at their faces as the train began to depart and make its way down a dark tunnel.

"What is so funny Miss Ula?"

I froze, suddenly aware that the train was empty, apart from the man I saw in the reflection of the window. Damn it.

I turned around and pressed my back against the doors of the train, taking a fighting stance. The man didn't look very strong, at least compared to the men following me moments ago. In fact, I was quite sure I could take him. Especially with the way he was slouched over and how skinny he looked in his white shirt and faded blue jeans. But, I'm not one to judge by appearance. He could be one of the most dangerous men alive, and I was standing alone in a train with him.

The man put his hands in his pockets, startling me into a tighter stance. "There is no reason to take up arms against me."

I snorted at that.

"A little ironic, I know." He tilted his head to the side slightly, his dark, analytical eyes bore into mine. "However, you should know that, even if you were to land the first blow, I would win. I am a lot stronger than I look."

Suddenly the train jolted to a stop and I was flung roughly backwards. The door opened up behind me before my body could make contact with the sliding doors. Several pairs of strong arms grabbed each arm, pining me from moving. Increasingly started, they used that moment to handcuff my hands behind me, as they yelled the eMiranda Rights over the clattering of railway.

However, my eyes never strayed from the man in front of me, of whom was still (quite indiscriminately) staring at me.

Sighing in defeat, I closed my eyes as the police officer guided me from the train, up the stairs and, once again, through the bustling city. We stopped next to the street as a sleek black car park in front of us. One of the police officers bent forward to opened the door and I, purposely avoiding the policeman's hand as it sought to protect my head from being hit by the top of the car, sat myself inside. When I was properly secure they closed the door.

I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to shift my weight so I fit one of my legs underneath my butt. The handcuffs and seat belt were making it difficult. I squirmed to the side and pulled my ankle through the bottom of the seat belt and under myself. Sighing in content I situated myself, I sat up right and settled against the car door trying to get comfortable.

The car sat and waited. For a while I didn't believe there was anyone else in the car with me until I heard a small snore come from the drivers seat. Smirking, I laughed at his audacity. Perhaps he was not briefed on who I was, or the circumstances surrounding me. I refused to believe that the police would be so stupid about capturing the daughter of one of the world's most renouned criminals. Didn't it cross their minds that my father might have taught me how to escape from situations like this?

Of course not.

Not to say I was a bad-ass, because I wasn't. My father never taught me anything about his profession; I was always left behind in the hotel room or somewhere near by to wait for him. I was just a normal fifteen year old; well, as normal as you could possible be with the disability I possessed.

I was startled out of my reverie by the door on the other side of the car opening. I watched as the man from the train got into the car and arranged himself to were his knees were touching his chin and his back was to the car door. He didn't bother himself with a seat belt, only comfort. (I would have probably have done the same, if it weren't for my handcuffs.)

Once he was in the position he desired, he stared at me once more. The way he was looking at me was actually starting to freak me out. I tried to ignore him, but it was like I could FEEL the intensity from his gazing. Like he was analyzing my every movement. It was creepy and it was starting to make me sweat.

"I have concluded," He began, breaking the silence. "That you are a female."

Seriously? I thought. It took him staring at me for thirty minutes to come up with that? I was appalled. I knew I possessed a couple of manly features and wore increasingly baggy clothes, but the way he said it made me feel like I had been trying to purposely hide my gender.

"That is not all though." He reached his thumb up to his mouth and pressed it, hard, against his lip, slightly muffling his words. "You are also around 14 or 15. You have thirty-seven freckles on your face. A slight disposition to run or fight when slightly frightened, which is similar to the way animals react towards stressful situations."

I stiffened at the word animals. Could he know? I doubt he would, my condition was a well hidden secret. My father had drilled my abnormal behaviors out of my brain, and hid my other signs cunningly. No one knew about my condition. So the chances that this man could know was quite slim.

"You are very sharp, having had thought of a plan under a great deal of stress – which would have proved fruitful for you if it had not been me who was after you – and you, Miss Ula," He reached across the car, I had to dodge my head to the left so he would miss me."Seem to have a massive aversion to human touch."

My eyes widened at him. Everything he said was right. God, it was like he was a mind reader.

"No, I am not a mind reader." I froze, my eyes widening slightly.

Hole. Lee. Crap.

"Your an open book." He smiled at me, as if mocking my inability to hide my emotions.

"Oh." I whispered.

"Now," His tone was now serious. "Child, you need to pay attention to what I am about to tell you." He shifted his feet rubbing them together slightly, like he was uncomfortable with what he was about to tell me. "Your father is in jail."