(Author's Note: Hey again, guys. I'm thinking of trying to update every weekend or so... Yeah, please read and review!)
Chapter Fourteen
Surviving
"Please?" Caller beseeched her cousin.
"No! Why on earth would we do that? All our hard work- for nothing!" Aryavare retorted.
"But we've already gotten all of the possible information from the book; we might as well pass it on," Caller argued. Hayden nodded in assent.
"You two…Urgh!" Aryavare clenched her gloved fist angrily.
"Caller has a point, Arya." Hayden stepped in.
"Oh, I'm sure," Aryavare snorted. "And who, geniuses, would we throw the book to, huh?"
The Royer children stared at her incredulously.
"You're kidding, right?" Hayden said. Aryavare's befuddled look made Caller smirk.
"Wow, even I know!" Caller grinned, in spite of herself. Aryavare was silent.
Caller and Hayden looked at each other and groaned simultaneously. "Irina Spasky!"
"Follow that Russian!"
Irina was half-sprinting down Rue de Rivoli, cold wind blowing harsh against her face. She wore a noticeable red shawl, and black heels that threatened to trip her. Irina felt that if the plan didn't work, she might kill herself. The bright shawl blew haphazardly, not helping the ex-KBG agent's attitude at all. They had to notice her. They had to.
Irina hurried down the flight of steps, attempting to do so while still trying to catch her breath. The train arrived at the Métro just as the children showed up. Irina jumped unto the train at once, with the Cahill siblings at her heels.
She changed trains three times until she finally arrived at the platform in Passy, France. Irina could sense them following her as she surged down the tree-lined street. She almost laughed aloud when she heard a Parisian curse behind her, no doubt at one of the children.
As Irina came closer to her destination, she made sure to steer clear of the hideous purple van. No need to get involved with those folk.
As she neared the end of the block, she slipped into the base. She furiously punched in the security code, messing up several times in her nervousness, and stepped inside. Irina made sure to turn off the alarms for at least a few minutes. At least enough time for the Cahills to enter unnoticed. The Lucian crest above her head made her cower; she was, after all, going against all that her branch stood for.
"Kids! Quiet! Did you hear that?" Eisenhower bellowed unnecessarily, as the whole family was already attentive.
"Sounds like… yelling?" Hamilton murmured. The family sat, silent in the purple van. Then, CRASH! Through one of the tall glass windows of the Lucian base came a bust of Napoleon Bonaparte. Alarms blared and the Holt family whirled around just in time to see Amy and Dan Cahill sprint out of the building. The Holts tensed; the Cahills were running toward their van!
As quietly as possible, Madison turned on the van's surveillance microphone. She pressed record just as the Cahill siblings were readying to slip away from behind the van. Through the microphone's static, she could hear Dan mutter something of utmost importance: an address. The Cahill duo jogged away from the van.
Hamilton broke the silence by snatching the surveillance microphone from Madison. "What'd they say? What'd they say?" he shouted.
Madison refused to let her brother have the microphone. "Stop!" she yelled, jumping on his back.
"Why'd they say 'stop' for?" Hamilton yelled. Madison grabbed the closest thing she could from the purple ice cream van: a box of Fudgesicles. She promptly began to hit her brother over the head with it. Arnold, acknowledging the excitement, snapped at their heels. Mary-Todd tried to pull the dog away, not wanting him to hurt her children, as if her own children's fighting would not inflict injury itself.
As soon as Arnold was away from the two, and fighting with Reagan over a package of Eskimo Pies, Mary-Todd moved on to separating Hamilton and Madison. Eisenhower groaned, knowing that he would soon have to start yelling.
"So what you're saying is… you lead them into your own branch's base?" Alistair inquired, staring at his companion curiously.
"Yes. It sounds crazy, I know this." Irina combed through her blonde hair worriedly.
"Your own branch, Irina? I have to admit, that's not like you," Alistair noted.
"I don't know if I care anymore," she replied steadily. Alistair threw her a questioning look.
"At… at Grace's funeral, McIntyre told me that I wouldn't survive," Irina shivered.
"He can't have known that, Irina, dear! Besides, he said that to all of us during the reading of Grace's will," Alistair said.
"No. He was looking right at me when he said that, мой друг," Irina muttered, wistfully.
"I beg to differ, Irina. I saw him looking at young Daniel Cahill." Alistair examined his cane thoughtfully.
"No. He was looking behind him, at me," Irina croaked.
"And this is why you are helping them?" Alistair questioned.
"Yes," Irina mumbled.
"Because you believe you won't survive?" Alistair asked. Irina nodded.
"넌센스" Alistair shook his head, amused.
(Author's Note: Alrighty, guys. Some translating is to be done here:
мой друг = my friend
넌센스 = nonsense
Thank you for reading, please review!)