Dumas came in some time later, but still much earlier than he had come on previous days. CJ and I were still playing our game; we were up to 3,002 tosses and catches with out dropping the bullet. We had discovered that to make it more interesting, we had to catch and throw with our weak hand only; I was using my left while she used her right.
To be honest, when we had begun I had not thought there was anything more ridiculous than tossing a bullet back and forth. I was used to much more intellectual ways of spending my time. However; we had set a goal at reaching 5,000 throws and the first time CJ had almost dropped the stupid bullet I found I gasped slightly; so it seemed I had been enthralled by a task that involved rudimentary tossing and catching. If the Paris Opera could see me now…
"What the hell is going on here?" Dumas asked, staring as the bullet went back and forth.
"We're up to 3,004," CJ said, not looking at Dumas and keeping her concentration on our game,
Dumas shook his head, "You two are resting tonight, time for someone else to prove they are worth keeping,"
"Wonderful," I said dryly; 3,005
"Just thought I would let you know," Dumas said simply and walked from the room.
"We really could have just killed him then, and run," CJ said in her usual frank tone.
"We could have, and then where would we go?" I asked; if we did run, than we would have the entire Paris police force after us, and I had no one left to run to, I was certain nobody from the opera would take me in. The Persian had had enough with me after the incident with the Vicomte; Madame Giry had turned her back on me when I sent a chandelier down on the stage. Christine was out of the question for obvious reasons; at least for now.
"I guess that is why we were chosen for this little experiment, we have no where else to go," CJ shrugged, the idea of no alternatives to this did not seem to bother her.
We reached our goal about and hour later; but we decided to keep going with the added difficulty of having to turn around and throw the bullet over the shoulder, then face front again in order to catch it. I had never felt more foolish, but it was something to pass the time.
Food was brought in; the same bread, butter and water feast we had had previously. It was dark outside and we were both lying down, preparing to sleep, when the door burst open. Dumas frantically entered, carrying a lantern and looking both furious and worried.
"Get up you two, let's go," He shouted, "Come on, move!"
"What?" I had been half asleep and I really did not want to move.
"I said now, come on!" Dumas grabbed CJ's arm and tugged her out of bed.
Standing, I saw two more guards, both armed; and one appeared to be the Tom fellow CJ had become friends with the our first day here. They were both looking as worried as Dumas.
We drudged out behind Dumas and exited the building.
"Alright," Dumas said once we were inside the cab, "Our other two assassins did not do so well, they ran, and then they took a house hostage, you have to get it back,"
"What?" I shook my head, this was insane,
"Did I stutter?" Dumas asked sharply, "You are not here to question me, if you will not do as I say, I'll send you back to prison and you can get your head chopped off, if that is what you desire, but not before you take one last victim, I think the newspapers will have a field day with the story of how you killed Madame Christine de Chagny in a crazed rage, after she was the one who asked us to stay your execution," Dumas narrowed his eyes at me,
I was speechless; he played dirty, he knew my weakness. I had no doubt in my mind he would do what he had just threatened; he was risking a great deal in forming this unit of assassin's and he would do anything to keep it from going awry.
We pulled up to a well tended, upper middle class house. There were two other police men standing in front of it, their cab parked there as well.
"Talk to them, keep their attention," CJ said to Dumas as we all got out, "Guns?" CJ asked Dumas and held out her hand,
Dumas shook his head, "I only had two, and I gave them to the two men inside,"
"So give us yours," I said to him angrily, and he handed CJ his gun.
CJ and I skirted the building as we heard Dumas yelling at the men to let the people inside the house go. I noticed several lights had been lit in the surrounding homes, and I wondered if we would have a crowd waiting for us when, if, we came out again.
I heard one man yell back that they would let them go when the police left. Judging from the sound of his voice, he was in the front of the house.
It seemed that no Paris architect was keen on building back or side doors; only windows high above the ground. Unfortunately, on this house the only window on the side of the house was out of even my reach.
CJ turned to me, "Want to give me a lift?"
"I don't suppose I have a choice," I knelt down and let her get on my shoulders, then I stood and she rose to stand so as to reach the window.
I heard her break the window with the gun butt and then a moment later I felt her weight lift off of me as she pulled herself up.
I waited on the ground for about fifteen minutes, before a rope hit me on the head. I tugged on the rope, it was secure. It was an agonizing climb up to the window, but I was used to climbing up ropes back stage at the opera; so I managed. When I reached the window I noted that she had only broken the top pane and the unlocked the window and crawled in. Apparently she had leared a lesson from the last window; breaking the glass would create jagged edges which cut into ones hands. CJ was holding the window open so I could climb in; she had tied the rope to the bed post, for we were standing in a bed room.
The room was dark, only the moon outside served to illuminate a small patch of carpeted floor in front of the window; however my eyes could see the room well. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room; oak bed, matching set of drawers and one full length mirror. I quickly turned away from my reflection in the glass.
I untied the rope from the bed and then refashioned it into my favorite Punjab lasso. CJ stared at me; apparently she had never seen one before.
"You kill people with it."
"Clever,"
We could hear harsh voices coming from the downstairs, and we walked silently toward them. Descending the staircase we found ourselves in a small foyer, I peered into a room on my right, a living room; I could see another hallway lay beyond it.
In the living room, one man stood pointing his gun at a frightened looking man and woman; the woman was holding a small child in her arms.
"You take him, I will look for the other one," CJ whispered,
"Alright," CJ slunk off into another darkened room to our left and I crept to the door frame of the living room. I judged the distance between me and the man, gathered the right amount of rope, and quickly stepped into the room and threw the lasso over his head and pulled. To my delight, my skill at throwing a Punjab had not left me. The man slumped to the floor.
The family looked terrified, which was understandable considering. The baby was crying, the woman was shaking, and the man was sweating.
I looked at them for a moment, not sure what to say. I heard a noise and turned to see CJ had come into the room,
"There is no sign of the other man," she said
"Maybe he ran?" I offered, then CJ turned to the family,
"Was there another man holding you hostage?" She asked in a gentle but hurried voice,
"Yes," The man stuttered, "But I don't know where he went,"
"Listen to me," CJ calmly addressed the family, "you had better get outside while we search the house again," she turned to look at me, but then her eyes widened, "Look out!" she yelled, and shoved me to the ground, falling on top of me as I heard a bullet come from the door behind me. CJ rolled off of my and I sprang up, grabbing the rope and running after the second man.
He had entered the living room through the back hallway, shot and missed, and then had turned and fled. He made it down the hall and into the kitchen before my rope brought him down.
I dragged him to the living room; but CJ was gone and Dumas stood in the room along with the two armed men; Dumas was talking to the family. When I entered he turned to me,
"Ah…well done Phann, well done, go out to the cab,"
I nodded and left; I had not wanted to deal with the two dead men anyway. As I walked out of the house, I noticed that indeed there were spectators to our performance that night. A group of people, who I assumed were neighbors, were already talking excitedly in front of the house. The street was now illuminated by the surrounding houses; all of which had at least one lamp lit and in the doorways of most I could see the silhouettes of people standing curiously; peering out at the house I had just left.
The moment I left the house those who had been courageous enough to meddle in other people's business directly in front of the house ran up to me.
"What happened?"
"Are Charles and Isabel alright?"
"What about little Yvette?"
The last thing I wanted to do was speak to them; I was pushing my way to the cab but they were incessant. Finally I gave an angry, short reply;
"The family is fine, their captors have been killed," To my disappointment, this answer did not serve to satisfy them, it only excited them further and prompted more questions;
"Who were they?"
"Did you save them?"
"Why are you wearing a mask?"
At this there was a general murmuring and nodding; apparently they all wanted a reason for my strange dress; I simply turned and glared at the man who had asked; he cowered and the crowd became silent. I turned to head back to the cab, then one more person decided to ask one more question,
"Where you shot too?"
I spun around, "What does that mean?" I asked crossly, "Was I shot too?"
