"Go," the blonde, Ros, ordered, and hauled Connie James away.
Lucas snarled angrily, but shoved me forward nonetheless. We hurried through the tunnels that led back to the platform. I stumbled over an abandoned section of tram seats that lay like an abandoned toy on the boarding platform; the force of impact scraped my palms and my left knee groaned from being the receiver of the majority of my momentum. I gritted my teeth and refused to let out the wince that slammed against the backs of my teeth in its great desire to be heard. I rose to my feet and soon caught up to Lucas. "This way," he instructed, and guided me towards a run-down escalator that would lead us back to the main station. "Shit," he hissed when the sounds of multiple pairs of feet echoed down the platform we just ducked out of. He shoved me ahead of him whilst he cocked the handgun he had taken from the FSB runner. "Be ready for anything," he warned.
Mutely, I nodded my head and took cover behind the escalator handrail opposite of him. Was this what my father had done for Queen and country for fifteen years? Running from terrorists seeking his blood more avidly than the Romans seeking out Christ to take him to Calvary? I flinched violently when bullets whistled and hurtled through the air over my head, and I watched in terrified awe as Lucas held his ground against the FSB agents.
Click.
My blood froze at the tell-tale sound, and my eyes jerked to look at Lucas. "Shit!" he growled, hands trembling as he looked down at the jammed gun. He only had one option left now- the only thing he could do was bluff. "I don't want to shoot," he called out to the agents that had taken shelter around the base of the escalator.
"You can't shoot us all," a man taunted.
"No, but I can shoot you." Lucas' threat hung heavy and bitter in the air, and for a moment I thought his trick had worked...until I heard the sound of the FSB agents climbing the motionless escalator. I yelped faintly when Lucas hauled me to my feet and clutched me to his side fiercely. "I will get you out of this," he promised in a frantic whisper as he dragged me along to where an exit was labeled. Tears began to fall from my eyes when I saw that our only chance of escape was barred and locked; Lucas pounded his fist against the interlocking chain gate and looked wildly about for another way.
There were four of them- one of them being a woman- all armed with their guns zeroed in on us.
"Keep coming!" Lucas urged.
"Where are the others?" the same man who had called out to us asked Lucas as he stepped ahead of his comrades.
"Keep coming! Keep coming!"
"Where is Connie James?" the FSB agent asked idly, indifferent to Lucas' façade of bravery. His eyes fell upon me, and a crooked grin quirked one side of his lips. "Have we met before? I swear I have seen that beautiful look of fear before."
Lucas growled and stepped in front of me, "One more step and I shoot."
"Your gun is jammed," the agent replied in languid dismissal, and advanced towards us.
My face grew ashen as I realized who the man was- he was one of my interrogators during my imprisonment. Wildly, I placed myself between Lucas and the FSB agent- holding out my hands in supplication when his gun darted to take aim upon me. "It's Anastasia," I explained cryptically in a trembling murmur, "It's Anastasia." How I loathed the moniker my captors had bestowed upon me, and I struggled to keep the bile that rose dangerously in my throat at bay as I voiced it.
"Ah, little Ana, back in the fray," the man laughed, "When will you ever learn?"
"You don't have to do this," I beseeched, "We don't want any trouble from you."
"That's the problem, litte Anastasia, you have caused trouble that needs to be neutralised."
"Kiley- get out of the way," Lucas murmured.
My eyes fluttered shut in fearful resignation as more tears fell rapidly from my eyes. This was the fate I had escaped years ago, and it had finally caught up to me. Blindly, I sought out Lucas' hand and gripped it in a bruising grip. "Lucas, you are-" I began, but was unable to continue when my voice cracked violently when I heard the gun cock.
A mobile's ring cut through deafening silence, causing my eyes to snap open. I watched as the FSB agent took a call- confusion becoming visibly apparent as the brief conversation came to a close. "Today...is your lucky day."
My knees gave out and I was sent careening into Lucas, who managed to grab me before I hit the floor. His arms were trembling from the exertion and blood loss, but he held onto me nonetheless. My chest heaved as I sobbed brokenly, my fingers dug into his chest with uncaring fierceness. "We are alive- why are we alive?" I inquired, unknowingly defecting into French.
The FSB conversed briefly with one another before our would-be killer turned about to face us once more. "We have been assigned to assist you," he explained, as if the time he had held a gun to my head occurred years ago...which in fact, it had- and on multiple occasions.
"How generous," Lucas retorted, "Come along."
"It's fine, they are here to help us," Lucas announced when we met up with Ros and Connie James.
"How nice," Ros added derisively.
I sidled off away from the group as they conversed with one another; my heart threatened to dislodge itself from its attached, fixed point in my chest. Oh god, I felt like I was going to vomit. I crouched to the ground and held my head between my knees to keep the nausea at bay. No such luck. I heaved violently, on all fours like some sick beast, and tried to keep my body from trembling as bolts of shock bounced throughout my entirety. I wiped away the spittle that clung to the corners of my clammy lips and raked a shaky hand through my tangled mess of hair.
A gentle hand rested between my aching shoulders and a bottle of water appeared in front of me. "Go on- take it," Connie James urged faintly, "Get those electrolytes back into balance or it feels like you'll never get warm."
"Th-Thanks," I croaked brokenly, and took a small sip to swish the water around my mouth. I grimaced at the acrid aftertaste that remained from my recent expulsion, quickly spat out the soiled water, and took a frantic cleansing drink.
"What has you in such a state?"
I glanced furtively over my shoulder to make sure that we were out of hearing range from the rest of the group. "How much about my father's life did you know about?"
"I know about your...stay in Russia when you were younger," Connie James explained cryptically.
"One of them..." I murmured, "One of them- I know- from before. It's harder than I thought."
"Do you still have the nightmares?"
"They came back with a vengeance when my father was killed," I answered faintly, and wiped away the viscid sweat that clung to my brow.
"Kiley, are you all right?" Lucas inquired, eying Connie James warily as he approached.
"Just a little shaken up, she will be fine," Connie James assured him when I looked to her frantically from behind my thick curtain of hair.
"What you did...back on the platform-" Lucas began when Connie walked back.
"-Dad always said I was three parts fool- one part brave," I interjected, "Just like him in that regard." I smiled faintly to myself as I stared down at my linked hands. A glance around told me that the FSB agents had suddenly vanished, and so I looked up at Lucas. "Where...did the FSB go?"
"To retrieve a nuclear bomb positioned in the square in front of the United States' Embassy."
"A nuclear bomb?!" I exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.
"Told you- you should have stayed out of this," Lucas laughed wryly.
I shot a hand and smacked him across the chest with the back of my hand and gave him a scolding glare. "Hardly the time, Lucas," I chided.
"Are you feeling better? You didn't hurt your ankle back on the platform when you took that fall, did you?"
"I'm fine- I should be asking after you," I dismissed. I reached out and raised the hem of his bloodied shirt and evaluated the bandage. I fought to keep the blush that threatened to blossom across my cheeks at the sight of his toned midriff as I took note of the damage. "We should put a clean bandage on," I concluded.
"We don't have the time, and I don't have any more in my bag," Lucas countered faintly.
The FSB returned shortly thereafter, and ran off to seek shelter from the possible nuclear explosion. I once more followed the Spooks into the depths of the London Underground; Connie James took another generous gulp of what appeared to be hard gin as we settled into a room set off from the main tunnel.
"Nervous?" Connie James taunted Ros.
"Should I be?" Ros shot back coldly.
"Right, you three should leave."
"Hurry up," Ros countered.
"I thought you weren't nervous," Connie James mused wryly as she was searching for the set of wires that would disconnect the detonator from the bomb's core. From what the make told me, this bomb was built back during the Cold War and had been dormant for quite a period of time. My father entertained my strange notion to learn how to deactivate the occasional bomb; he would bring home already neutralised bombs and watch as I tinkered with them. You aren't going to grow up and become a terrorist, I hope?
"I'm not."
"Big mistake."Connie took hold of the industrial cutters with the initiator wires in her other hand; she glanced up at the three of us, and then severed the wires.
A cumulitive sigh fell from our lips as the countdown ceased, and we were not blown to pieces.
Beep...beep...beep...beep.
"Connie?" Lucas asked, panicked.
"This isn't an improvised explosion cooked up by some halfwit undergraduate- there are fail safes and initiators. By cutting that wire, I initiated a secondary countdown. A conventional explosion would go off in less than two minutes..." Connie explained in hasty precision, already setting a second plan into motion. "If I remove the uranium from the main reaction and a nuclear reaction- I need to remove the shell from the central housing, and separate the two isotopes. When I do that, the bomb cannot reach nuclear mass and will no longer be nuclear. It will, however, go up in my face- the bomb will kill whoever deactivates it. Leave, please, the three of you," she explained brokenly, hardly making sense at first.
"No," Lucas argued.
"What you've lost can sometimes be found, Lucas. I remove the uranium-it's just a bomb...I'm not scared of bombs," Connie James mused faintly.
"Connie."
"Oh, Lucas!" Connie James called out to him, "At three A.M. when the nightmares come, who do you blame? Eight years in Russian hell- who do you blame?"
"I blame Harry."
I blame my father.
"Then it's time to let it go- it wasn't Harry's fault. And you, Kiley Jensen, who do you blame for your father's murder and the consequences you faced for being his only child?"
"I..." I trailed off, unable to voice the truth that burned my tongue. I blame my father.
"Who was it, Connie? Who sold me out?" Lucas demanded.
Connie James' eyes darted to the clock counting down. "Ten seconds," she announced as she took apart the central housing and placed the uranium back in its previous holder.
"Who was it?"
"I have nine seconds-"
"-I need to know!" Lucas growled.
"Eight seconds."
"Just tell me! Say it!"
"We need to leave now," Ros ordered, taking hold of my arm and dragging me away.
"It was me. It was always me. For the both of you…"
The three of us staggered out of the room and sought refuge in an alcove in the corridor over. Lucas and Ros barred me in, doing their duty to protect the civilian, and I cringed in anticipation of the impending explosion. It was Connie James...she murdered my father, and sent the Russians after me...it wasn't my father's fault- it wasn't his fault. Again, I sought out Lucas for my anchor, to keep me from being dragged away by my thoughts. After all those years of resentment for my father- petty and misguided resentment for a man already consumed by guilt.
"Let's get out of here," Ros growled, and began to ascend to the station's ground level.
"Kiley, are you all right?" Lucas inquired faintly, and it was when his hand touched my wet cheeks that I realised I was crying. I hastily wiped at my face with the back of my hand and gave him a broken smile.
"I'm fine," I protested feebly, "Just some dust fell into my eyes."
"Right." Lucas wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me up to the station. I smiled at the people, who strolled or hurried by, as they remained safe in their ignorance.
"Lucas," I murmured, drawing the man in question away from his conversation with Ros, "Promise me you will get to the hospital when you get the chance." I slid between the bars of the gate that sealed the doorway from the public, reminiscent to a cat, and I glanced at the two Spooks. Ros was looking at me with reluctant respect, whereas Lucas was looking at me with a furrowed brow. I gave them a casual salute, and then ducked into the swarms of people.
I needed a long shower and about a pound of Kinder chocolate inhaled before I could lie to myself that I would be all right. I finished the short jaunt to my flat, and leaned against my front door after I slid inside. My hands were trembling, my legs ached, and the hole that I had so desperately tried to fill in my chest was exposed once more. The hard earned peace I had struggled so hard to obtain was snatched from me like precious porcelain taken away from the inquisitive toddler. "I'm sorry- I am so sorry," I moaned, fingers jerking painfully in my hair, and a fresh round of tears came to fruition. After all this time, I finally knew the person responsible for my father's murder and my imprisonment...and it was committed by my father's longtime friend.