ACT XI: The Train Station
The pressure was on for Napoleon and Neiman. Throughout the night a flurry of communications resulted in a little over half of the assault force being on site in time. It would have to do. Luckily, April and Mark were still in the area to handle the team.
Neiman located the phone lines a distance from the house and was able to get a partial list of Thrush names expected to arrive the next day. Eli Soloman, Dagmar Krinsky, Jean-Luc Arboneau and Devin Knight.
Solo rubbed his eyes when he heard the names. It was approaching dawn and he hadn't slept. His eyes felt like sandpaper. "All on the Thrush Council, I believe. All of them would kill their mother for advancement. Marcus and Arthur Danzig would be in their element, but it sounds like more than David could handle. Any indication that they know Knight is responsible for Marcus' death?"
Neiman shrugged and slumped to the floor of the tent, exhausted. "No. I'm sure Marcus has the takeover set up to the last detail. David should have not problem if he has the stomach for it."
"True. And he has an impressive support system backing him. It sounds like the Danzigs are continuing as planned." His somber brown eyes tired but determined, the senior agent glanced out of the tent. "Come on. We have about an hour until dawn. Let's find the best place to breach the wall and assemble some explosives."
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Illya awoke with a start well after dawn. Sleep had been restless and pain-filled, but he'd managed to get in a few hours. When he rose from the bed his head swam and his arm reminded him of his injury. He rolled his shoulder, testing the extent of damage, and was pleased to find no loss of flexibility. It simpy hurt, and that could be ignored.
After his head stopped spinning he stood and looked in the mirror. The head wound was near the hairline and easily covered by his shaggy cut. Satisfied, he washed and dressed and went downstairs to eat.
The household was a hive of activity. Illya weaved between all the workers and found the kitchen in a barely controlled uproar. The cook, barking orders left and right, didn't verbally acknowledge the agent but shoved a full breakfast plate into his hands before he could open his mouth. Grateful, he backed out and ate the food as he walked through the rooms.
Talia's job was to sabotage the security cameras in the lab area while David was briefing the Thrush Council. They would have precious few minutes to set the explosives, retrieve the Program, and escape. Good timing would put the Council members in the area of the labs during the explosion. Perfect timing would allow the Council members to be captured by the assault team. Either way, he and Talia had to get the Program and safely escape with David in tow. Marcus' office offered the best way out. Since most of the sensitive items had already been moved to David's office, it would be empty and unguarded and it had a window that opened to the quiet side of the house. There was a good chance they would slip out unnoticed in the confusion.
After that, Talia would be gone.
He didn't regret what he'd said to her the night before. He knew that Talia had her mind set on finishing this and starting a new life with David. I just hope you know what you're getting into, Talia Alina, he thought.
He returned the empty plate to the kitchen and returned upstairs where he integrated his explosives into his tuxedo. Then, he tightly re-wrapped his injured arm and tested his mobility. It was tender, but still functional.
The guests would be arriving soon, and there would be cocktails and music in the ballroom beginning at 4:00. The briefing started at 5:00 and the tour at 5:30. They had a 30-minute window, and planned to be ready.
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Talia hadn't slept well at all. She was tense, her stomach upset and her nerves rattled to the point of distraction. David made it clear that she was to see to the details of the gathering and she did so on automatic with no sense of accomplishment. It seemed to her like she was on a long walk to the gallows.
After tonight, everything would be different. After tonight, she and David would be embarking on their new life. If that was so, then why did this dread hang over her like a black cloud? Why did this feel so right and so wrong at the same time?
The number of details that she attended to seemed endless. Finally, as the first of the guests drove through the gates, Talia felt everything was done and she had a moment to catch her breath. She turned the greeting duties over to Tonnie, who would show the guests to their suites, and retired to her room to dress.
She was ready shortly before 4:00 and surprised that David had not yet called for her. Checked the collar of her silk blouse and the waist of her flowing silk skirt one last time. Her hair was just the way he liked it - swept up with loose tendrils around her face. Her makeup was perfect and even covered the tired bags under her eyes. With a final steadying intake of breath Talia threw back her shoulders and decided to find him instead.
Would he leave with her and Illya tonight, or should she meet with him later, after the Program is gone? Or maybe she shouldn't leave at all and stay by his side. Even after the betrayal is discovered, surely he would see that she did it for him, for them. The David she knew would be happy to have his hands clean. Now was the time for her to feel him out and make the decision. Then she could tell Illya at the cocktail party.
The guard at David's dressing room announced her, much to her annoyance. That would change after tonight. She used to be able to move freely about his quarters, and planned on it being that way again.
She stepped in with an excited smile on her face. What she walked in on took her aback.
David wasn't alone. There was a beefy security guard, a harried-looking assistant, a prissy valet and Arthur. It was clear to her that David was the one firmly in charge. As he issued orders to the assistant Talia was shocked at how he sounded; he was Marcus reborn. His tone, his posture and his words were all Marcus.
Arthur was seated to one side and looked to be half the man he was a week ago. David, on the other hand, looked larger, confidant and empowered. He'd easily slipped into the vacancy left by his brother. It was obvious who was running the show now.
Talia mentally tried to slow her racing heart. There was still a chance, there had to be. When David glanced at her, he smiled.
"You look fabulous, Talia, my dear. I need to settle some details. Would you greet the guests downstairs? I will meet them in the conference room for the briefing."
She reasoned the brush off was due to nerves. "Certainly, David. I'll see you downstairs." Disappointed, she stepped out of the dressing area and out of his line of sight then paused.
"I will handle everything, Dad." Arthur said in a low, calm voice. Talia had to strain to hear the rest. "Tonight, I will personally kill those responsible for the death of my brother. Tomorrow, we will be invincible."
Talia felt the blood drain from her face and she slumped against the wall for support. At that moment, she knew she'd lost him. The David she knew was now the David that Arthur wanted.
There was only one person Talia Alina Inova could turn to now. Quietly, she slipped from the room.
She didn't hear David's private line ring or see his expression when the missing investigator requested to meet him privately on a most important matter.
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The ballroom was sparkling with crystal and lights. The small band played popular dance songs and the dance floor was alive with Danzig business partners and Thrush Council members. Illya stayed to the sidelines and was doing an excellent job of not being noticed. He picked up from the buzz of the crowd that some guests were insulted that the Danzigs hadn't shown themselves yet, but most of the guests excused them because of the recent family tragedy.
Talia descended the stairs with her chin up. Her hands gathered the flowing skirt to free the hem from her feet as she moved downward. Her shoulders were back and her upswept hair framed an elegant profile. Everything about her carriage said she was the woman of the house.
As she followed the sweeping turn of the stairs and approached the entry Illya saw her eyes. They told him everything; he'd seen that look before.
It was over with David Danzig.
He knew that she had made a decision she hadn't wanted to make. Seeing that look again brought back a moment in full clarity that he had filed away in his mind long ago:
The sounds of the train station alone were confusing. Along with the press of bodies in the winter chill, the smell of grease and the sight of hurrying people's icy breath coming out of their noses as they brushed by, it was enough to distract anyone's thoughts. The intense blond college student working his way determinedly to the train platform wasn't just anyone.
Tight in his elbow was the hand of an old woman whose heart he could see racing in the pulse of her neck. Her eyes were wide with fear, but also glimmered with determination. Illya spared a look over his shoulder and saw Talia doggedly keeping on his heels with the old man caught in her elbow. The old man did not look well and Illya feared he would drop dead of a heart attack before they could board.
The final 'all aboard' caused the crowd to surge ahead like the tide at the beach. Illya ducked his head. "Hang on," he said lowly as he forced their way through a tiny hole in the crowd, successfully getting to the edge of the platform. The doors to the eastbound trains were impassable, so packed with bodies they were. Each set of eyes he saw was tired and wide with anxiety; it was a common look to those trying to escape the regime. Most of them would not make it, and they knew that. Illya knew, though, that this old couple would as all his clients before them had. Still, the stress to the old couple was understandable.
The train lurched forward once, and Illya knew it was now or never. He steered the old woman to the last doorway and politely chastised those that blocked it to make room for the couple. Desperation recognized desperation, and a small opening appeared as the train lurched once more.
Snow was beginning to fall and icy flakes blew over the platform as Illya helped the old woman and old man up the train stair; the old man slipped, and Talia leaned into him, bodily lifting him up. She was attached to his arm in what Illya saw as determination stepped back to give her room to work. Talia stepped on the stair, still guiding the man. The train lurched again, and began to slowly chug forward. Talia stepped up another step.
"Talia," Illya warned, but he didn't get any further. She was now on the third step and the crowd in the doorway had swelled shut again. She turned and fixed her wide eyes on him, only her face clearly visible in the press of bodies. Illya opened his mouth to say something, anything, but her eyes told him it wouldn't do any good.
She had made a decision. She was leaving him.
The grip on the old man's arm that he had interpreted as determination was actually desperation; Talia Alina Inova was finally making a desperate attempt to find the stability she felt she needed, no matter the cost.
All Illya could do was stare in open-mouthed shock as the train gathered speed and moved away. He didn't believe she would do it. He didn't believe she would ever leave him. His breath was gone and his head swirled as the train took her from his sight. He didn't hear any of the crowd, or smell any of the damp station smells, or feel the snowflakes brushing his face as they tumbled at the will of the wind to the earth. All he felt was his heart, and it had turned as icy cold as the steel tracks taking his love away.
And then he felt it shatter.
When Talia's foot touched the floor her eyes found his across the room. He didn't see the crowd between them or feel the heat of the room; he did feel his heartbeat, strong and full.
Talia reached him and he saw her eyes shimmering with tears she refused to shed. He found her hands escorted her to the dance floor, and then turned her to face him. Gently, he pulled her close, the flat of his hand lightly placed on her lower back. He felt the warmth of her body under the silk. The skirt flowed around them as they moved.
For those few moments they were in another place. They were in an alternate future and knew it was within their grasp.
For Illya, it was living day to day with a woman he respected and trusted, seeing her every morning and holding her close every night; a woman who knew him, his beginnings and his inner self. Before, it had been beyond his thinking, but now, with all that had happened to him since she had left and all that he had learned in that time, he knew that true happiness was what he had right now in his arms. He vowed to not let her go this time.
For Talia, it was like coming home. She regretted ever leaving him. This time she knew she would be happy. This time, she knew exactly what she had right here in her arms, and she couldn't push him away again. At that moment she realized that stability was not rock and mortar, it was trust and faith.
This the new world settled into their minds as a possibility to be dealt with when this affair was over. And it would be over, and they would prevail as they did all those other times, together, in the past.
"It's time," Talia whispered in a breathy voice. It was plain in her eyes that she wanted this over with as soon as possible so they could begin again.
Illya grinned. "I know," he replied, referring to more than just the mission here tonight.
She smiled in complete understanding and he escorted her from the floor. They were a team once again.
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Neiman was breathless when he found the senior agent. Solo was checking the final placements of explosives and confirming the location of the assault team. The expression on Neiman's face was enough to give the agent his instant, undivided attention.
"He's back," Neiman puffed. "The investigator. He's back and requested to meet with David in private, immediately. He wouldn't report over the phone. He's to meet with David in Marcus' study."
Solo's heart sank. "That's it, then. He knows and it's just a matter of minutes before David knows." He glanced at his watch: 5:00 straight up. Illya and Talia were committed. The investigator was no doubt enroute from the village and would be here in less than 10 minutes. In 15 minutes Illya's cover would be blown and he could be dead. "Can we stop him on the road?"
Neiman shook his head. "The road is lined with Danzig security from here to the village. If we take him out, they will discover the assault force."
"And since we have half the force we really need, we can't afford that." The CEA pressed his lips into a tight line. "It's up to Illya and Talia. They're on their own, for a while at least. If we don't get his signal in 20 minutes, we're going in. Inform April and Mark."