"Oh sinner man, where you gonna run to?"
Sinnerman, Nina Simone
The country below the wings of the jet was green, dotted with trees, and divided into small farms by rows of vegetation and low stone walls. The flight passed quickly; Molly had fallen asleep, but was woken by dawn light shining through her window. Sebastian checked his watch and moaned. Molly's phone sat on the tray table in front of her. It jingled loudly. Sebastian jumped out of his seat and seized it before Molly had hardly blinked.
"That's mine!" She shouted.
"I know," He said. "And you are not very responsible with it. Jim thought you could survive without it for a while." Molly opened her mouth to respond angrily, but he raised a hand to silence her. "Don't bother. I couldn't care less about all this. I'm here for a paycheck. So don't test me." He slipped her phone into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it, blew out a cloud of smoke, and sighed contently. He caught Molly's disapproving stare and swore. "Don't give me that look. Fucking health care specialist, aren't you. Go back to your pouting."
She fanned a stray curl of smoke away from her face. The smell burned her throat. Aware there was nothing she could say, she returned her attention to the slowly growing scenery beneath her, and tried to ignore the obnoxious fumes.
"Willkommen in Berlin, gnädige Frau. Darf ich Ihre Tasche nehmen?"
Molly blinked. "I'm sorry, I don't…" Sebastian pushed past her.
"Nehmen ihre Taschen zum Auto. Sie braucht, um zu Hotel Adlon Kempinski zu gehen. Nicht mit ihr sprechen." The man nodded and forced a frown. He offered Molly his hand politely and helped her down the steps from the warm jet into the chilly evening air, then silently led her to the waiting car. Molly smiled to him, but received no response. He avoided her eyes and opened the door for her. She slid inside and looked imploringly back at Sebastian. He ignored her, speaking rapidly to the driver. When he finished, the driver scuttled back and forth, loading bags into the trunk of the car, and with a last nervous glance at Sebastian, stumbled into the driver's seat and drove cautiously towards the city.
Molly had never been to Berlin. The city gleamed beneath the frost and fog, large orange and white buildings towering over the narrow streets.
The Hotel Adlon Kempinski was an impressive building. On one side, the Brandenburg Gate swarmed with tourists, even in the bitter cold, on the other stood the imposing white stone and black fence of the Russian Embassy. The hotel itself glowed with entitlement, luxury, and age-old self-importance.
Several valets sporting green uniforms scurried out of the front doors as the car came to a stop, and carried in her bags, barely giving her a second glance. Finally relieved of his passenger, the driver took off, tires screeching. Molly waited before the doors and bit her lips nervously. Should I go in? Where is Sebastian? What if they don't speak English…
The doors opened again, and a tall man in a well-fitted, forest green suit strutted out her and bowed, bearing his perfect, white teeth in a practiced smile. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back and touched with grey at the temples. She smiled apprehensively.
"You are Ms Hooper, yes?" Molly nodded. "It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Klaus Albrecht, manager of the Adlon Kempinski. I have been asked to personally welcome you to Berlin."
"Thank you," She said. He offered his arm graciously. Molly took it and was lead obediently into the glowing hotel.
"This is your suite, Ms Hooper. I trust you will enjoy your stay here. I am always available if you need anything at all."
"Thank you, I…" Molly was speechless. The luxurious suite before her was unlike anything she had ever seen; Silver candlesticks, polished wood furniture, and a burning fireplace carved in mahogany and stone. Something stirred in the adjoining bedroom, and Toby sauntered towards her, meowing loudly. Molly cried out in delight and kneeled down to scratch his ears. Klaus laughed.
"I am glad you have found him. A delightful creature, although our staff had some difficulty in persuading him to cooperate." He bowed and gripped the gleaming doorknob. "If you are comfortable, I will take my leave."
"Yes, thank you so much." Molly hugged Toby close to her chest with her good arm and put on her bravest smile. Klaus pulled the door closed after him, but peeked back in.
"One last thing, Madame. I have been instructed to ensure that you do not leave your suite, unless accompanied by Mr. Moran, or Mr. Brook himself." Her smile fell. Mr. Brook. Toby wrestled from her grasp and pranced into the bedroom.
"Oh. I see."
"Good evening."
People bustled around her, pushing her every direction. Molly cried out, searching desperately for him. Someone called her name.
"Molly…"
"Wait, I'm coming!" She saw his face for a brief moment as the crowd parted slightly. Someone pushed her away, knocking the breath from her lungs. He smirked. He started to turn, to walk away from her.
"Stop! I'm coming!" She pushed harder against the waves of people. A loud bang pounded her ears. The world went silent, droves of people still pushing her farther from him. Molly looked down at her chest and saw a dark stain spreading across her shirt. She looked up and saw him, partially obscured by the shifting crowd, laughing. His face contorted with sick amusement. Molly fell to her knees and pressed her hands to the hot, wet mess.
"Don't be frightened, Molly." He said softly. He bent down in front of her. His hand reached for her face and wiped away a hot tear. "You can't die yet, I haven't given you permission." His hand dropped to her chest and he pushed her away. She fell back without resistance, and kept falling. Her chest was empty, hollow. The ground raced towards her, black pavement gleaming from the rain, past the windows of St. Bart's…
A scream tore from Molly's throat, horse and animalistic. Her back must be broken, and a bullet had been driven into her chest. She grasped at her shirt, only feeling the soft, dry cotton. She let out a sigh of relief. The soft sheets clung to her legs, damp with sweat. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but Molly felt in no mood to cry in self-pity. She had done too much of that already.
Large clumps of sticky snow fell on the balcony outside. Morning light was beginning to tinge the horizon over the Tiergarten, casting cool light over the black trees. The Brandenburg Gate was devoid of tourists and dusted with snow like powdered sugar. Molly pressed her face to the glass door and stared at the city longingly. Yellow lights from the houses and shopping streets blinked to life, one by one like opening eyes. Molly's breath fogged the window. She leaned back and squinted through the small cloud. She puffed another breath, and dragged her finger over the glass. She felt like a child again, drawing snowflakes on the windows when it was too cold to play outside.
Her shoulder throbbed and the bandages began to itch. She closed her eyes tightly ad fought the urge to rip off the binding and flex her tired muscles. In her head, she pieced together her fragmented memories of the station, pulling the likeness of the shooter forward. She hadn't really seen his face. His hood shadowed his features. Molly had thought he was waving to her…
Why me? She thought. What could a murder possibly want badly enough to kill her? I don't have anything valuable, I'm nobody special. Jim-
Jim. It had to be him. Molly had seen enough American movies to know that girlfriends, family, significant others, were always a weakness. Targets. Someone thought Molly was valuable enough to Jim that they could actually hurt him by ending her. Someone who hated Jim, watched him closely, watched Molly closely, had wanted to hurt Jim. To destroy him. Am I that important to him?
The door creaked in the sitting room, heals clicked sharply on the floor. Keys jingled onto the coffee table. Molly stood her ground, staring pensively out the window. The window reflected his silhouette behind her. She closed her eyes and waited.
"You look so dramatic. Been watching Glee again?" He laughed thickly. Molly turned to him and frowned. He mimicked her frown and drooped his shoulders. "Don't be such a downer." He reached for her bandaged shoulder and toyed with a frayed thread under the collar of her shirt. Molly's eyes dropped to the floor. He waved his hands dismissively and crossed the room to a cabinet above the counter. He produced a large green bottle, and two small glasses. He filled one glass almost completely and poured a shots worth into the other. He swigged from the full glass and grimaced, holding the other out to Molly.
"It's 7:30, Jim."
"I'm Irish, Molly."
She took the offered whiskey, but didn't drink it. She watched Jim down half of his own in one practiced gulp. Noticing her eye, he grinned. "Drink up." Molly downed the amber liquid and coughed as it scorched her throat. Jim smiled slightly, but it fell as he considered her. "You're going to stay put. I've got lots of important and boring things to do."
"Do I have a say in this?" Her lips tightened.
"No. So don't do anything stupid." He grinned wickedly at Molly's flushed face. "Find something sexy to wear, we're going out tonight."
"I don't want to."
"You are such a buzz kill."
"I want to go outside." Molly felt her muscles tense in anxious anticipation. This was a demand, not a request. If she wanted to gain ground, she needed to know what she could do.
"Why?" He scoffed, "Every time you leave your flat you get shot or get someone blown up." She swallowed the sting and pushed harder.
"You can't keep me locked up here all the time while you go off and hurt people!"
"Is that what you think I do?" He smirked. "I'm not a bully, Molly. That's just boring."
"I wont let you do this to me. You killed Tom, imprisoned me, and almost got me killed." Something in Jim's eye shifted. She nearly missed the almost invisible shift from dismissive to pained. "You owe me that much, Jim." He cast his eyes past her, through the window to the glistening city bathed in early sunlight. He finished his drink and nodded.
"I… owe you."