Disclaimers: I still don't own anything Alias.
Chapter 3
Eric enjoyed being CIA more than anything. But it was always an added perk when the job started paying him back. He had checked with eight of his contacts, turning up nothing, already and was now waiting at a bar for a ninth. Antoinette Montague. Definitely the second most gorgeous spy on the planet after Sydney.
"Bonjour, stranger," came a thick accented voice from behind him. "Oh, 'ow I 'ave missed 'oo, 'Airic."
Eric hopped up from his bar stool and turned to his long time friend. The girl was elegant. Her long black hair fell in long curls down her back and her eyes were the most piercing green. She complemented her tan skin with a soft, chocolate brown sweater and brown slacks.
"Oh, 'Airic, if only 'oo were looking me over to ask me out."
Eric felt his cheeks redden as he pointed to a booth near the back of the building. She led the way and the two were soon sitting on the same side of the booth, keeping an eye on the occupants of the restaurant.
"I 'ave a feeling 'oo are 'ere to talk business."
He signed and began in a low voice. "You're right, Monte. I have a friend who disappeared early yesterday. I was hoping you would know something about it."
After Eric gave her all the information he knew he said a quick prayer that she would have the information he needed. Intently, he studied her face like a good spy should and smiled as she pursed her lips and wrinkled her forehead.
"I might know something," she said with a sigh. "And this... Sydney is 'oo you want?" After she watched him nod, slowly, she continued, "I might 'ave 'eard Jean-Pierre talking tonight as 'e fell asleep. Apparently, 'e and 'is men captured an English and American spy. 'E 'ad them taken to our villa. If we 'urry, we can beat the truck there by taking the rail."
Eric smiled, grabbed her hand and headed for the door. "Well then, let's ''urry' and catch that train!"
&~*~&~*
Being a defected agent inside an Underlord's faction had its perks. Antoinette had her own private train and crew that could whisk her off to anywhere she wanted to go. For the past hour, Eric had enjoyed the comforts of a plush cabin seat and a bottled water as he listened to Antoinette talk to random, powerful people on the phone. She had just finished a call in German and was now speaking fluent Russian. She was almost as good as Sydney. Almost.
Eric's initial surge of adrenaline was wearing down but the sudden realization that he had no plan to take on the thugs when he arrived at the villa brought on a new wave of energy. Antoinette ended her phone call and enjoyed a long sip of her soda while she watched Eric's frown deepen.
"What's wrong," she asked in a thick, Californian accent.
It was enough to bring Eric out of his deep thought and smile. "Monte, how many men did you say would be there? Thirty-some-odd?" She nodded and he continued, "Syd's the one who can fight off a million guys without breaking a sweat. Not me."
"Eric, you will be fine. 'Oo 'ave me."
~*~&~*~
The villa was silhouetted against the rising sun as the train pulled onto the private track. Money bought anything apparently. When the train finally stopped, Eric hurried to the garage where Antoinette had promised the van would pull in at any moment. All he had to do was wait for her diversion and whisk Sydney and Sark back onto the train. The workers on board only worked for Monte, thank goodness.
The garage was empty, except for the menagerie of automobiles, one of which offered perfect sights for the empty space the truck would occupy.
It had felt like an eternity until the main garage door slowly glided up and a black van entered.
"Black? You'd think they could be original," Eric muttered under his breath as two overgrown Neanderthals hopped out of the cab. "Come on, Monte, please don't double-cross me."
Finally, the side door opened, and the confident clicking of high heels echoed through the room. "Bonjour boy. Jean-Pierre asked that both of 'oo would take a conference call as soon as you arrived. 'Oo can call in the study. Vous vous dépêchez. Au revoir." She lingered just long enough to watch Eric slip out of the car and give her the thumbs up.
Quickly, he hurried over to the van, grabbed the keys out of the cab and shifted to the back to unlock the doors.
Before he could, however, a horrifying feeling filled his stomach. What if he opened the doors and found Sydney dead?
Chapter 3
Eric enjoyed being CIA more than anything. But it was always an added perk when the job started paying him back. He had checked with eight of his contacts, turning up nothing, already and was now waiting at a bar for a ninth. Antoinette Montague. Definitely the second most gorgeous spy on the planet after Sydney.
"Bonjour, stranger," came a thick accented voice from behind him. "Oh, 'ow I 'ave missed 'oo, 'Airic."
Eric hopped up from his bar stool and turned to his long time friend. The girl was elegant. Her long black hair fell in long curls down her back and her eyes were the most piercing green. She complemented her tan skin with a soft, chocolate brown sweater and brown slacks.
"Oh, 'Airic, if only 'oo were looking me over to ask me out."
Eric felt his cheeks redden as he pointed to a booth near the back of the building. She led the way and the two were soon sitting on the same side of the booth, keeping an eye on the occupants of the restaurant.
"I 'ave a feeling 'oo are 'ere to talk business."
He signed and began in a low voice. "You're right, Monte. I have a friend who disappeared early yesterday. I was hoping you would know something about it."
After Eric gave her all the information he knew he said a quick prayer that she would have the information he needed. Intently, he studied her face like a good spy should and smiled as she pursed her lips and wrinkled her forehead.
"I might know something," she said with a sigh. "And this... Sydney is 'oo you want?" After she watched him nod, slowly, she continued, "I might 'ave 'eard Jean-Pierre talking tonight as 'e fell asleep. Apparently, 'e and 'is men captured an English and American spy. 'E 'ad them taken to our villa. If we 'urry, we can beat the truck there by taking the rail."
Eric smiled, grabbed her hand and headed for the door. "Well then, let's ''urry' and catch that train!"
&~*~&~*
Being a defected agent inside an Underlord's faction had its perks. Antoinette had her own private train and crew that could whisk her off to anywhere she wanted to go. For the past hour, Eric had enjoyed the comforts of a plush cabin seat and a bottled water as he listened to Antoinette talk to random, powerful people on the phone. She had just finished a call in German and was now speaking fluent Russian. She was almost as good as Sydney. Almost.
Eric's initial surge of adrenaline was wearing down but the sudden realization that he had no plan to take on the thugs when he arrived at the villa brought on a new wave of energy. Antoinette ended her phone call and enjoyed a long sip of her soda while she watched Eric's frown deepen.
"What's wrong," she asked in a thick, Californian accent.
It was enough to bring Eric out of his deep thought and smile. "Monte, how many men did you say would be there? Thirty-some-odd?" She nodded and he continued, "Syd's the one who can fight off a million guys without breaking a sweat. Not me."
"Eric, you will be fine. 'Oo 'ave me."
~*~&~*~
The villa was silhouetted against the rising sun as the train pulled onto the private track. Money bought anything apparently. When the train finally stopped, Eric hurried to the garage where Antoinette had promised the van would pull in at any moment. All he had to do was wait for her diversion and whisk Sydney and Sark back onto the train. The workers on board only worked for Monte, thank goodness.
The garage was empty, except for the menagerie of automobiles, one of which offered perfect sights for the empty space the truck would occupy.
It had felt like an eternity until the main garage door slowly glided up and a black van entered.
"Black? You'd think they could be original," Eric muttered under his breath as two overgrown Neanderthals hopped out of the cab. "Come on, Monte, please don't double-cross me."
Finally, the side door opened, and the confident clicking of high heels echoed through the room. "Bonjour boy. Jean-Pierre asked that both of 'oo would take a conference call as soon as you arrived. 'Oo can call in the study. Vous vous dépêchez. Au revoir." She lingered just long enough to watch Eric slip out of the car and give her the thumbs up.
Quickly, he hurried over to the van, grabbed the keys out of the cab and shifted to the back to unlock the doors.
Before he could, however, a horrifying feeling filled his stomach. What if he opened the doors and found Sydney dead?