Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
A/N: To visually support this story I'm going to post a couple of pictures via my twitter account. The idea is that you get glimpses of what the boys see on their tour through England. You don't need an account yourself to view the pictures, it is open to the public. Just google "cedricsowner" and "twitter". My account is the one with the raccoon, officially belonging to "Cedric S. Owner" ;-)
"Watch out!" Chance lunged forward, grabbed the young woman by the waist and pulled her backwards on the sidewalk just in time before she could get run over by one of those pink and white double-deck buses that seemed to be all over York. Apparently the city was big on public transportation.
"You alright?" He quickly helped her to her feet. "You better look right, left, right before crossing. They're driving on the wrong side of the road here, you know?", he told her, smiling his best boy scout smile.
"Well, I should know", she replied, brushing invisible dirt off her long skirt. "I've spent most of my life in this country. Thanks for saving me." She smiled back at him, but it was a sad, resigned smile, and it didn't reach her dark green eyes.
"Neal Avon", Chance introduced himself with the fake identity he had adopted for this job. "At your service."
"Are you here to take part in an Open University excursion?", she asked, obviously astonished. "I think I saw your name on the list of participants. You enrolled last minute, didn't you?"
"Guilty as charged – I take it you're participating too, then?"
"Abigail Porter. Nice to meet you, Mr. Avon."
Chance took her outstretched hand and shook it. This had gone remarkably well. His original plan had been to "accidentally" bump into her somewhere on the way to the excursion group's first meeting, cause her to drop her purse or whatever, help her gathering up her things and thus initiate a starting point for closer acquaintance. To protect her properly he needed her to tolerate him near at hand. Saving her life, of course, was a much better way to establish that than simply gathering up fallen stuff. Sometimes coincidence played right into your hands.
"So, what's an American doing on a British Open University excursion?", she asked, looking right, left, right this time before crossing the road. The wind slightly tugged at her long red hair.
"My buddies and me decided we wanted to do something different this year. Can't always go paragliding…" They had decided that three Americans on the excursion, all enrolled at the last minute, all claiming not to know each other, was way too suspicious. Better they admitted openly that they were friends, that made lying about the rest easier.
"So you're not alone on this trip", she stated, and again she sounded sad.
"Yeah, we're like the three musketeers – all for one and one for all", he joked.
For a moment her eyes rested thoughtfully on him, then she smiled again, and this time it did reach her eyes.
… … …
Guerrero liked taking a look around on his own when in a new town. He knew a guy or two in York, but nothing with deep roots. All the more important that he had a basic idea of the city and its inner workings. He had spent most of the day getting familiar with its environment, now it was time to meet the excursion group.
In person, that is. He already knew quite a bit about the various participants. People were just too careless with their online accounts. So far nothing out of the ordinary had caught his attention, but that didn't mean much. The way people carried themselves in real life was often a more reliable indicator that something was off than a few visits to slightly seedy porn websites.
The first meeting was set to take place on the steps of York Minster's West Front, where the main entrance was located. Well, it shouldn't be too difficult to find a cathedral, should it? Guerrero turned left and walked down another narrow, strangely curved street cluttered with one tea room after another, pubs, souvenir shops and the odd antique shop thrown in here and there. The city was putting on quite a show for the tourists, good lord, could all these chocolate shops in utmost proximity really…
Guerrero stopped dead in his tracks. There it was, the Minster. Definitely unmissable, its huge central tower loomed over the street, a giant structure of massive gray stones. For a few moments Guerrero just stood and stared, studying the vast structure that pictures had done no justice. The central tower had no spire, but nevertheless it looked complete. Two long and narrow perpendicular windows on each side provided it with a strict, no-nonsense appearance, the battlement on top supporting that impression even more.
As Guerrero stepped out of the street that had led him to the Minster, he got his first full view of the south side of the building. More battlements, above them niches containing figures and blind arches, cut short by gables with lofty pinnacles on top. Guerrero couldn't take his eyes off the walls and ornaments. There was nothing playful about them. Although created in different centuries they all emitted an air of sternness, of severity – without ever becoming cruel shove-it-down-your-throat displays of dictatorial claim to power so often found in 20th century public architecture, such as in pre-1945 Germany or Russia during Stalin's reign.
This was much more subtle. Through hundreds of years the archbishops of York had found themselves in constant strife with those of Canterbury, contending for power and influence. As leading figures of one of the richest cities in England they had commanded armies against the Scots and, at times, initiated rebellions against the king. This building clearly expressed their ambition and the pride they had taken in their deeds. Guerrero couldn't help but feel a certain kinship with the Minster.
… … …
The first meeting of the excursion group was rather unspectacular. Winston noticed that Chance had managed to make a positive first contact with the client. So far so good, although it still gave him the creeps knowing that he had used the same charming smile to lull his targets into a false and in the end lethal feeling of safety.
They listened to one of the students reading a presentation word for word, sentence by sentence, from his notes, a rather lengthy narration of the Minster's history, followed by a guided tour through the cathedral that lasted an hour longer than originally planned. The guide was excited that for once he didn't have to deal with disinterested teenagers but highly motivated students of history.
The two organizers of the excursion, Professor Simpson and Professor Percy, however, behaved a bit strangely. The Minster was full of medieval stuff, but what seemed to attract the professors' attention most were a couple of modern statues above the main entrance. They were meant to represent saints, without heads, because in the times of the Reformation many sculptures in the cathedral had had their heads hacked off by zealous Protestants. The headless saints were all holding golden plates in their hands, in different positions, giving signals, like boy scouts. According to the guide the message spelt out "Christ is here", but not too long ago the statues had had to be removed for a short time while a movie was filmed inside the Minster and the people that put them back apparently had known zilch about boy scout signal language. For a week the message had been "Chris is there". The professors exchanged very meaningful looks at this information.
Their quarters, that they finally got to see properly rather late in the evening, weren't exactly Hilton quality. Winston couldn't believe he was supposed to share shower and toilet with six strangers of both genders and kept complaining about the saggy bed, but Chance and Guerrero had definitely seen worse.
Nevertheless Chance suddenly woke in the middle of the night. Winston was watching over Abby, he had willingly taken the first shift, claiming he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Chance had another two hours left before it was his turn, but something had alerted his instincts.
There it was again. Sounds on the streets, but not close by. Odd sounds…