Thanks to those who've been reading so far :)
Chapter 8
Captive Heart
As he ran into Interpol's London Headquarters, Mike Whittier glanced at his watch. He was running later than he initially thought. He'd been up most of the night investigating a possible terrorist threat to target the London tubes. Luckily his wife was kind enough to nudge him awake. After taking the elevator up, he was promptly greeted by Jenkins who handed him a coffee. His loyal colleague took one look at his disheveled appearance and shook his head.
"Rough night?"
"Don't worry about me." Mike replied. "Any new developments?"
"Yes, but it's not what you think."
Both men walked into Mike's office. He took a sip of the cheap coffee and cringed.
"What have we got?" He began to sift through the papers on his desk when Jenkins stopped him.
"There have been no new news on the terrorist threat but I think you take a look at this." Jenkins picked up a remote control and turned on the television in the corner of the room. Immediately a news broadcast came up.
"We've just received word from several sources that a top government official has been assassinated at Union Station in Washington DC." The news reader explained.
"The victim's name has not been released but we're told that he was gunned down from a distance while surrounded by two unidentified colleagues in public in broad daylight."
Mike's ears immediately pricked to attention.
"At this time, the government has not released a statement as to a possible motive and no one has been arrested over the incident."
"What do you make of that?" Jenkins asked Mike as he turned off the screen. Jenkins has eyed him suspiciously ever since the assassin's body had been removed from his home.
"I have no idea." Mike replied coolly.
"It's like déjà vu isn't it?" Jenkins picked up the closed case file on the Bellicoff assassination and flipped it open to the photo of the unidentified body on Mike's living room floor. "This assassination style is so similar to Bellicoff's killer ain't it?"
Mike never confided in Jenkins about what happened that night when the bald assassin made a visit to his house and told him to pass off someone else as him and cover everything up. Mike figured it was for Jenkins own protection. Even though Ballistics confirmed the story, Jenkins never seemed satisfied with how everything had been wrapped up so neatly. Mike had been so relieved when he'd signed off on the final paper work and his superiors were just glad it was over. However Jenkins still seemed to hold some suspicion. Mike got the feeling that he never bought the story that a criminal genius who had evaded the authorities for so long could be taken down so easily with a single bullet.
"Maybe it's another assassin from the same Organization, same techniques, same methods. But I don't need tell you how many possible suspects there could be for taking out a US government official." Mike explained.
Jenkins put down the case file. "Maybe you're right." He inclined. "I'd just hate to think that the same guy could be out there, still killing and getting away with it." Jenkins walked away and Mike breathed a small sigh of relief but it didn't last. His worst nightmare was back. His gut instinct told him that the agent he let get away was behind this. Only a truly skilled professional could do something this well crafted. After the agent walked out his door, he'd left Mike the impression that he no longer wanted the attention that comes from international assassinations and retire. Maybe Mike had read him wrong. He shouldn't have put it past a criminal to lie. But this was the American's problem right now. Mike had no jurisdiction on this. He would simply monitor the situation until something else developed.
Agent Smith lay lifeless in the back of the ambulance as it sped away from the train station. Suddenly one of his colleges injected adrenaline into his system, quintessentially reviving him, bringing him back to life.
"Welcome back sir." One of his men said.
He tried to sit up but couldn't due to the level of pain in his chest. They immediately undid his shirt, removed the fake blood satchels and his bulletproof vest.
"Lucky for me, he's a good shot." Agent Smith chuckled as he clutched his bruised chest. "His plan worked perfectly."
Agent 7 opened his laptop and immediately initiated the destruct component on the device that had been implanted into 47's back. Even though the device was small it still held enough liquid explosive to cause fatal damage to vital organs if inside a human body. The signal disappeared off his screen as the device and 47 were no more. He enjoyed only a brief moment of satisfaction when his phone rang again. He picked it up and was immediately alarmed at the voice on the other end.
"Did you forget who you're dealing with? I'm not that easy to kill." 47 said in a relaxed tone that was almost smug. "And one more thing, next time I see Agent Smith, I'll send him your regards." He hung up. Agent 7 was vivid and threw the phone down, almost smashing it. Suddenly word came through to their communications that Agent Smith had barely been wounded in the attack but was now in government protection. He had been tricked. He thought the veins in his face were going to burst.
Nika sat in the back of the cab, tense and nervous. She was now free from her captives but she had no idea where she was going and who was driving her. The driver up front wore a black hoody so she couldn't see his face. He wasn't speaking to her and she began to fidget.
"Where are we going?" She asked. She looked out the window but didn't recognize any of the structures. However she spotted a license plate and discovered she must be somewhere in America. She had always wanted to visit however the life of a prostitute hadn't given her many opportunities to do so. Her temporary excitement was replaced with fear again as they kept driving. She banged on the protective glass in the cab trying to get her drivers attention.
"Hey where are we going?" She said louder but he didn't respond.
The cab drove down into a nearly abandoned undercover parking garage. The driver stopped the car and sat motionless.
"Answer me!" Nika grew anxious, fearing another painful outcome. "Where are you taking me?"
Suddenly the driver unbuckled himself and got out of the front seat and went to Nika's door. He removed the hoody and took off his glasses.
"Somewhere safe." 47 said as he opened the door.
Nika's mouth fell wide open. It took all her strength pull herself up and out of the cab. He took her hand and she rushed into him clumsily.
"47!" She screamed with tears rolling down her face. She grabbed and clutched him forcefully like he was a life raft saving her from drowning. So many emotions flooded through her. Happiness, exhilaration, relief and sadness. She wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly; luckily she wasn't strong enough to choke him. He seemed unprepared for her wave of emotion as he was unfamiliar with the concept of someone missing him. Nika forgot about any formalities between them and failing to control herself began to express herself in her native Russian without even realizing it.
"Я скучаю по тебе…" She repeatedly kissed his neck and ran her fingers over his face as if she couldn't believe he was real.
He understood every word but merely nodded. He pushed her away only slightly to look at her face. It was bloody and swollen and no attempt to bandage her wound had been made. He caressed her cheek where the dragon tattoo had once been and felt the dried blood. Her eyes were dark and sunken, only traces of her make up remained and tears stained her cheeks. He was beginning to process what she had been through. Her ankle was still swollen and she was probably slightly malnourished but apart from that, she was lucky. She was relatively untouched.
"Are you ok?" He whispered.
She tried to smile. "I knew you'd find me." She hugged him to her again.
"We can't stay here Nika." He warned her. "We need to keep moving. It's not over yet. Understand?"
He guided her to another vehicle. It was brand new, bought only a few hours earlier. 47 pressed a button and the cab they had just been sitting in burst into flames, destroying any evidence left behind, at least for the moment. Nika and 47 sped away out into the evening, in the new white Audi A8, free but not yet clear. The Organization would use every weapon at their disposal to bring him down and kill Nika for sure this time.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Nika tried to regain her composure. She started wiping her face with her sleeve, suddenly concerned with her appearance.
"Where are we going?" She asked, but this time with a different tone.
"We need to get out of town. We need to lay low for a while." 47's concentration was now fixed on the road ahead.
"Like a holiday?"
"You could say that." 47 answered.
Nika looked out into the evening. "Where are we exactly?"
"America. Washington DC. Tonight we'll drive to Philadelphia and stay low until the heat dies down."
"Did you do the job they wanted you to?"
"As far as they knew I did." 47 replied cryptically.
After driving for a few hours, Nika had fallen asleep in her seat, her head draped to one side. Now that she finally felt safe, she was able to relax. 47 booked a room at a roadside Motel. He parked the car and opened the door to the room before going back to retrieve Nika. She stirred and groaned slightly in his arms as he carried her into the room. Gently he placed her under the covers. 47 locked the door and made sure the room was secure. Taking out a first aid kit, he put some topical antibacterial cream on her face and covered it with a dressing. She drifted in and out of sleep.
Secure in the knowledge that she was safe and sleeping 47 took a shower and put a fresh dressing on his stitches which seemed to be healing. He dressed in white tank top and black sweat pants. A creature of habit and routine, 47 began to check his weapons and placed his handgun next to the nightstand. Nika stirred again.
"Shhh, go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere." He said as he came closer to her. She held out her arms to him, beckoning him to lie on the bed. He obliged. He laid down on the bed on his back, feeling his stitches press on the sheets and she immediately snuggled into his side, like an animal seeking warmth. 47 was relatively relaxed however he was unprepared for what Nika was going to do next. As she huddled in the crook of his arm with her face pressed into his chest, he felt her entire body tensed and became wracked with sobs, as she tried to restrain her weeping. She failed miserably and 47 could feel his shirt becoming damp.
"Nika….Nika…." He kept calling her name but she didn't really respond.
Providing comfort to someone was an alien concept to 47. He didn't know how to alleviate her emotional suffering. He wasn't even sure why she was so bereft. They were safe now. His clinical mind told him that she must be suffering the effects of post traumatic stress. She clutched him tighter and dug her nails into his flesh to the point that it was almost painful. But 47 didn't resist her. Suddenly he understood, she didn't want him to offer her words of comfort, she just wanted to cry and find some release. It was now more obvious than ever that she had formed a strong attachment to him. Somewhat intrigued by her display, 47 placed his hand on her back, feeling her erratic breathing as she shed tears. She cried more loudly and openly now. 47 grew more uncomfortable. He tried to recall a time when he had shed a tear and failed. As far as human emotions went, he had experienced very few. He was sure he was capable to cry, physically, yet he knew his mental conditioning refused such an act. As 47 lay there, he pressed his head back against the pillow. In the dark with Nika pressed up against him, inside he was envious that she could cry and he couldn't. He waited silently detached for her to go through the motions and after a few more minutes, her cries became less and less. Eventually she fell asleep and 47 decided it would be best for him to rest as well.
