7. Bad dreams
Both were silent for a long time. Van Cleaf had to admit that he was not successful with building a base for Fouchon. Sandrine seemed bored, but as he looked closer he could see that she had something else on her mind. Unfortunately she was hiding it very well. He was not sure what exactly had gone wrong this time.
As he started to think about it almost an hour was gone. It seemed that since the little fight on the gas station an even larger gab had opened. He came to the conclusion that it must be about him beating up those vermin. It was perhaps to much to expect from her to accept solutions like that from the beginning. Also he could not imagine that she would have known any better solution. He hated spending so much time thinking over this boring incident with those lowlifes.
"You know they are not dead," he finally told her. This was maybe not enough, but he did not manage to come up with something else. From her came no reply, she just looked at him and he could not believe that she was thinking about something else to say. Sooner or later she would have to learn that he and her new father killed people for fun or for money. Drunks like them would have been dead before they hit the ground, but nonetheless he said: "That was the right thing to do - with people like that you have to deal that way."
"I give a damn about them being dead or not."
That were good news. Could he have misjudged her so much? From the first moment he had met her he had thought he was sure about at least one thing: That girl was well-mannered. Somehow even after all he learned about her this had not changed. Fouchon might indeed find a way to his daughter.
Sandrine was surprised about her own words or more about them being true. She did not care about those guys, they were gone that was all that mattered. She began to wonder why Van Cleaf had told her that they were not dead? It did not seem to fit to him at all. Anyway without knowing his reasons he had helped her out of this situation.
"Thanks," she said before thinking twice about it. He looked at her a bit confused and she added: "For getting them out of my sight."
"On this journey the only thing you have to fear is me."
Sandrine gave him a short nod, after all that had happened since she run away from her dad, she had already guessed that it might be that way. It was not comforting, but on the other hand he had shot two of their employees to save her. Obviously Fouchon still wanted her alive. Of course he did, he stopped Pick earlier, but that she was that valuable to him, she had failed to notice. She thought a moment about it, then she decided that if she wanted to figure out what this was about she would have to ask questions.
"Why did you kill the men that evening, didn't they work for you?"
"I didn't remember his name and apart from that the only way to ensure that he didn't kill you was to kill him first."
"So he wants me alive." This was a stupid statement. What she really wanted to know was why he wanted her alive, but she did not dare to ask Van Cleaf.
"I was ordered to get you alive and mostly unharmed to him."
That was not what Sandrine wanted to hear. After thinking a while about it, she came to the conclusion that Pick maybe just played around with her because he was not sure what Fouchon would say if he went any further. In fact he tried to be nice to her. Sandrine saw that her kidnapper obviously was not familiar with this situation as well. It was all so confusing, maybe the best she could do was seeing Pick as someone who was their to protect her. She simply could not ignore that he was a dangerous, psychopathic killer, could she?
"Do you think we are now far enough away from the gas station?"
First Pick did not understand what she meant, but then she moved her hands. He smiled, it was a clever way of putting it. He stopped the car and removed her handcuffs. Her wrists already showed bruises, but she acted as if everything was normal. He had to admit that he was beginning to respect the girl. Considering the idea that everyone was either wolf or lamb, he was not anymore sure if she really belonged to the sheep.
Sandrine took a drink from the backseat, before she tried again to read. It was useless, she could not concentrate on the story. After reading through a whole chapter without feeling or enjoying anything she threw it in frustration behind her.
"Was it that bad?"
"I don't know - I guess I am not in the right mood."
"Too much else on your mind?"
"Yes," Sandrine said and looked out of the window, her arms wrapped around her.
Nobody got either the mood or the right idea to say anything else. So for the rest of the day they did not talk much.
The only difference was that they stopped much earlier for the night. This time they stopped by a small house a bit offside the road. The next living person was miles away. The only surprise was that the house had a real good security system. Pick opened the door by typing the right number into the number pad.
"You got a lot hiding places over the countryside?"
"Of course, I got many connections and they are all experienced with escaping the officials."
He went into the house and led her to a room at the end of the corridor.
"This belongs to an old colleague, we will use his guestroom. If you want to, you can take a bath."
Sandrine nodded and went into the guestroom. The whole interior had a warm, almost comforting atmosphere. She had spend a holiday in a smaller house like this once, but the occasion has not been more pleasant than this one. A bath was indeed a good idea, she decided. She got her night-gown and went into the bathroom. The furniture alone had locked much more expensive in contrast to the outside, but the bath was a dream.
It seemed to Sandrine that the phrase "crime does not pay" did not fit for Fouchon, Pick and their old colleagues. She spend over two hours in the bathroom. Only once Pick knocked and told her, that she could use everything that was in the unlocked cupboards.
Pick decided to call Fouchon to straighten out the last details of the escape. Fouchon would for sure have activated their other contacts and could tell him time and place were they would get picked up in Mexico. They cleared all necessary points and if everything run like expected, Pick would have to spend three more night alone with Sandrine.
"Any improvements?"
"I'm not sure, I do my best, but this is your problem."
"Yes, it is my problem."
"The agreement with Spencer also includes that we could plunder his freezer?"
"Everything that is unlocked, is for guests. - I think from now on, we communicate only when something unforeseen happens."
"O.K."
He did not want to tell Fouchon what exactly happened or that he was eager to set a sign, especially because he was not sure what sign. The whole afternoon he was thinking about a way to get in touch with Sandrine. He came up with a thousand ideas about what he could do to tease and frighten her. At the end he thought that maybe if he could present her something more presentable to eat after three days with little or fast food, she might thaw up. The freezer did not offer that much, but maybe eating from plates would do also.
Later he almost believed it worked. Sandrine sat in her white night-gown with a white towel around her head and looked much more relaxed. They did not talk much, but he was to busy with hiding that he was staring at her most of the time. His hostage might look cute lying in her bed, but seeing her closer in that gown, she was simply beautiful. After dinner she took care of the dishes without saying a word. He watched her, something unusual was about the picture, but Pick could not figure out what it was.
Soon afterwards they went to bed. He decided against using handcuffs. Sandrine might be able to unlock the door, but he would wake up, before she could even take a look on the front door and all windows had huge bars on the outside. The girl wondered first if he might have forgotten to chain her, but she came to the conclusion that she would not be able to get anywhere. Then she fell asleep.
Later that night Sandrine suddenly sat up, which alarmed Pick, who instantly woke up - his gun ready in his hand. Then he saw her. She was staring at the edge of her bed - her breath was heavy and fast. Even he saw that she had a real bad nightmare. It was just that the mercenary was surprised about a civilian having that bad kind of nightmare. Under old colleagues he had often seen such signs - not everyone was hard enough for this kind of job, but what possible could trouble the girl so much?
On second thought he got an idea. Pick put the gun away and walked over to her. Also being half awake, she still was imprisoned in her nightmare. Sandrine looked at him as he came closer, but her eyes showed no sign of recognition. They seemed to look right through him. She was scared, but there was something over her expression. It was sadness, Pick realised in the moment he sat down beside her and shook her until the look in her eyes changed.
He could not explain why he acted this way, but he felt the urgent need to help her. It was really strange, but as he thought about it he remembered that once before he felt like this. For a short moment on the clearing - that could not be! He looked at his hostage. She was confused.
Sandrine had always the same dream. Her mother sat beside her on the bed. She talked softly and then the voice changed very slowly to something cold and grunting. When she looked up to her mother, she saw a monster. A monster she could not even describe, she mainly felt emotions. Normally she was not afraid of monsters or darkness, but dreaming to be scared was a different matter. Before the monster could reach her with its claws, she used to wake up. Only this time she saw Pick sitting on her bed, his hands on her shoulder.
"Bad dream?"
She nodded. Sandrine hated that dream she could not fall asleep for hours after it. Everything around her seemed like twilight zone, but Pick's presence changed this. His warm hands on her shoulder banned the chill feeling. She had never been woke up by anyone, not even when she had been younger. Looking at him, she saw that he was a bit worried. Stranger than this was that she felt safe and most of all that she was glad that he was there.
"Was it about ... ," he started to speak slowly hoping he would stumble over a better phrase, but she interrupted him. She immediately understood what he wanted to know.
"No, it had nothing to do with you - not at all."
"So what was it about?" he asked carefully, but she simply shook her head.
Sandrine never talked to anyone about her bad dream and for sure she would not tell Pick. His question brought the hunt back in her mind. She could not risk giving him any clues about how to reach her most vulnerable spot. She was the hostage, no matter how friendly he tried to be, Sandrine knew to well what he was like. She moved a bit back to show him that she wanted him to let go of her shoulders.
"Thanks, I'm alright now."
"Ok, then," he said as he rose up and added, "sleep well."
Sandrine laid down and Pick went back to his bed confused about his feelings. He thought a while about it and came to no conclusion, except to trust his instincts. They never failed him and kept him out of the worst trouble. Sandrine fell asleep only a few minutes afterwards.
Both were silent for a long time. Van Cleaf had to admit that he was not successful with building a base for Fouchon. Sandrine seemed bored, but as he looked closer he could see that she had something else on her mind. Unfortunately she was hiding it very well. He was not sure what exactly had gone wrong this time.
As he started to think about it almost an hour was gone. It seemed that since the little fight on the gas station an even larger gab had opened. He came to the conclusion that it must be about him beating up those vermin. It was perhaps to much to expect from her to accept solutions like that from the beginning. Also he could not imagine that she would have known any better solution. He hated spending so much time thinking over this boring incident with those lowlifes.
"You know they are not dead," he finally told her. This was maybe not enough, but he did not manage to come up with something else. From her came no reply, she just looked at him and he could not believe that she was thinking about something else to say. Sooner or later she would have to learn that he and her new father killed people for fun or for money. Drunks like them would have been dead before they hit the ground, but nonetheless he said: "That was the right thing to do - with people like that you have to deal that way."
"I give a damn about them being dead or not."
That were good news. Could he have misjudged her so much? From the first moment he had met her he had thought he was sure about at least one thing: That girl was well-mannered. Somehow even after all he learned about her this had not changed. Fouchon might indeed find a way to his daughter.
Sandrine was surprised about her own words or more about them being true. She did not care about those guys, they were gone that was all that mattered. She began to wonder why Van Cleaf had told her that they were not dead? It did not seem to fit to him at all. Anyway without knowing his reasons he had helped her out of this situation.
"Thanks," she said before thinking twice about it. He looked at her a bit confused and she added: "For getting them out of my sight."
"On this journey the only thing you have to fear is me."
Sandrine gave him a short nod, after all that had happened since she run away from her dad, she had already guessed that it might be that way. It was not comforting, but on the other hand he had shot two of their employees to save her. Obviously Fouchon still wanted her alive. Of course he did, he stopped Pick earlier, but that she was that valuable to him, she had failed to notice. She thought a moment about it, then she decided that if she wanted to figure out what this was about she would have to ask questions.
"Why did you kill the men that evening, didn't they work for you?"
"I didn't remember his name and apart from that the only way to ensure that he didn't kill you was to kill him first."
"So he wants me alive." This was a stupid statement. What she really wanted to know was why he wanted her alive, but she did not dare to ask Van Cleaf.
"I was ordered to get you alive and mostly unharmed to him."
That was not what Sandrine wanted to hear. After thinking a while about it, she came to the conclusion that Pick maybe just played around with her because he was not sure what Fouchon would say if he went any further. In fact he tried to be nice to her. Sandrine saw that her kidnapper obviously was not familiar with this situation as well. It was all so confusing, maybe the best she could do was seeing Pick as someone who was their to protect her. She simply could not ignore that he was a dangerous, psychopathic killer, could she?
"Do you think we are now far enough away from the gas station?"
First Pick did not understand what she meant, but then she moved her hands. He smiled, it was a clever way of putting it. He stopped the car and removed her handcuffs. Her wrists already showed bruises, but she acted as if everything was normal. He had to admit that he was beginning to respect the girl. Considering the idea that everyone was either wolf or lamb, he was not anymore sure if she really belonged to the sheep.
Sandrine took a drink from the backseat, before she tried again to read. It was useless, she could not concentrate on the story. After reading through a whole chapter without feeling or enjoying anything she threw it in frustration behind her.
"Was it that bad?"
"I don't know - I guess I am not in the right mood."
"Too much else on your mind?"
"Yes," Sandrine said and looked out of the window, her arms wrapped around her.
Nobody got either the mood or the right idea to say anything else. So for the rest of the day they did not talk much.
The only difference was that they stopped much earlier for the night. This time they stopped by a small house a bit offside the road. The next living person was miles away. The only surprise was that the house had a real good security system. Pick opened the door by typing the right number into the number pad.
"You got a lot hiding places over the countryside?"
"Of course, I got many connections and they are all experienced with escaping the officials."
He went into the house and led her to a room at the end of the corridor.
"This belongs to an old colleague, we will use his guestroom. If you want to, you can take a bath."
Sandrine nodded and went into the guestroom. The whole interior had a warm, almost comforting atmosphere. She had spend a holiday in a smaller house like this once, but the occasion has not been more pleasant than this one. A bath was indeed a good idea, she decided. She got her night-gown and went into the bathroom. The furniture alone had locked much more expensive in contrast to the outside, but the bath was a dream.
It seemed to Sandrine that the phrase "crime does not pay" did not fit for Fouchon, Pick and their old colleagues. She spend over two hours in the bathroom. Only once Pick knocked and told her, that she could use everything that was in the unlocked cupboards.
Pick decided to call Fouchon to straighten out the last details of the escape. Fouchon would for sure have activated their other contacts and could tell him time and place were they would get picked up in Mexico. They cleared all necessary points and if everything run like expected, Pick would have to spend three more night alone with Sandrine.
"Any improvements?"
"I'm not sure, I do my best, but this is your problem."
"Yes, it is my problem."
"The agreement with Spencer also includes that we could plunder his freezer?"
"Everything that is unlocked, is for guests. - I think from now on, we communicate only when something unforeseen happens."
"O.K."
He did not want to tell Fouchon what exactly happened or that he was eager to set a sign, especially because he was not sure what sign. The whole afternoon he was thinking about a way to get in touch with Sandrine. He came up with a thousand ideas about what he could do to tease and frighten her. At the end he thought that maybe if he could present her something more presentable to eat after three days with little or fast food, she might thaw up. The freezer did not offer that much, but maybe eating from plates would do also.
Later he almost believed it worked. Sandrine sat in her white night-gown with a white towel around her head and looked much more relaxed. They did not talk much, but he was to busy with hiding that he was staring at her most of the time. His hostage might look cute lying in her bed, but seeing her closer in that gown, she was simply beautiful. After dinner she took care of the dishes without saying a word. He watched her, something unusual was about the picture, but Pick could not figure out what it was.
Soon afterwards they went to bed. He decided against using handcuffs. Sandrine might be able to unlock the door, but he would wake up, before she could even take a look on the front door and all windows had huge bars on the outside. The girl wondered first if he might have forgotten to chain her, but she came to the conclusion that she would not be able to get anywhere. Then she fell asleep.
Later that night Sandrine suddenly sat up, which alarmed Pick, who instantly woke up - his gun ready in his hand. Then he saw her. She was staring at the edge of her bed - her breath was heavy and fast. Even he saw that she had a real bad nightmare. It was just that the mercenary was surprised about a civilian having that bad kind of nightmare. Under old colleagues he had often seen such signs - not everyone was hard enough for this kind of job, but what possible could trouble the girl so much?
On second thought he got an idea. Pick put the gun away and walked over to her. Also being half awake, she still was imprisoned in her nightmare. Sandrine looked at him as he came closer, but her eyes showed no sign of recognition. They seemed to look right through him. She was scared, but there was something over her expression. It was sadness, Pick realised in the moment he sat down beside her and shook her until the look in her eyes changed.
He could not explain why he acted this way, but he felt the urgent need to help her. It was really strange, but as he thought about it he remembered that once before he felt like this. For a short moment on the clearing - that could not be! He looked at his hostage. She was confused.
Sandrine had always the same dream. Her mother sat beside her on the bed. She talked softly and then the voice changed very slowly to something cold and grunting. When she looked up to her mother, she saw a monster. A monster she could not even describe, she mainly felt emotions. Normally she was not afraid of monsters or darkness, but dreaming to be scared was a different matter. Before the monster could reach her with its claws, she used to wake up. Only this time she saw Pick sitting on her bed, his hands on her shoulder.
"Bad dream?"
She nodded. Sandrine hated that dream she could not fall asleep for hours after it. Everything around her seemed like twilight zone, but Pick's presence changed this. His warm hands on her shoulder banned the chill feeling. She had never been woke up by anyone, not even when she had been younger. Looking at him, she saw that he was a bit worried. Stranger than this was that she felt safe and most of all that she was glad that he was there.
"Was it about ... ," he started to speak slowly hoping he would stumble over a better phrase, but she interrupted him. She immediately understood what he wanted to know.
"No, it had nothing to do with you - not at all."
"So what was it about?" he asked carefully, but she simply shook her head.
Sandrine never talked to anyone about her bad dream and for sure she would not tell Pick. His question brought the hunt back in her mind. She could not risk giving him any clues about how to reach her most vulnerable spot. She was the hostage, no matter how friendly he tried to be, Sandrine knew to well what he was like. She moved a bit back to show him that she wanted him to let go of her shoulders.
"Thanks, I'm alright now."
"Ok, then," he said as he rose up and added, "sleep well."
Sandrine laid down and Pick went back to his bed confused about his feelings. He thought a while about it and came to no conclusion, except to trust his instincts. They never failed him and kept him out of the worst trouble. Sandrine fell asleep only a few minutes afterwards.
