Chapter Five: The Real Suitcase

Paige woke late that morning, about a quarter to twelve. She was accustomed to this, of course, having never worked in almost twenty years. The royalties she had from her previous job were generous enough to secure her a comfortable existence for the rest of her life.

She walked into her living room and looked around in annoyance. The apartment may have been furnished but it had yet to acquire the details of a home. Boxes were strewn everywhere, begging to be unburdened. She missed her apartment building back in London. Most of all, she missed her books. But every time she saw the empty bookshelves in her new home, she felt the excitement of the prospect of filling them up. That was enough for her. For now.

As she did every morning, Paige executed her yoga routine. She loved yoga; every woman in her maternal family swore by it. Paige thought of it as the secret to her exceptional health and appearance even at 44. It also helped a lot with stress.

However, no amount of yoga could shake the worry she woke with this morning. She still couldn't stop thinking of what had happened with Casey yesterday. Her sweet but undeniably clumsy Casey. If there was one thing she regretted, it was not being around for the past six years he'd grown up. But he'd turned into a decent young man just fine without her. Bless him, though, she still loved him as if he were her own son. And seeing him in danger brought a familiar chill down her spine.

What has become of him?

This question in mind, she fixed herself a glass of juice and sat down on the living room couch. Producing her phone, she composed a text for the number he'd given her yesterday.

Good morning, Casey.

Her heart skipped a beat as she received his reply not two minutes later.

Mornin', P :)

He was safe, thank goodness. With the worry cleared, curiosity took its place. She composed another text.

Still fancy a bit of lunch today? Like we planned?

She was in the mood for answers as she waited patiently for his reply. She had some finding out to do. Perhaps some of Casey's favorite sausages and mash would loosen up that honesty reflex of his. Her phone beeped and what she read made her roll her eyes in frustration.

Really sorry, P. Have 2 attend study session. How 'bout 2morow?

Paige sighed. She hated being cancelled on. Though she supposed this had something to do with yesterday's "incident". She decided not to push it. She texted again.

Alright. 1 more chance ;)

Casey replied immediately.

Thanks, P. Just go do what you had planned 2day. Again, sorry.

Do whatever she had planned today? That she would. She was just about to rise from the couch when another text came in.

Thanks for saving me yesterday. 3

She smiled.

Only doing my job. 3

Setting her phone down, she stood up and saw to her grooming regimen. She donned one of her many white afternoon dresses and her favorite beige trench coat. As she always did before leaving home, she kissed the photo of her and her late husband. Starting off her day any other way just never felt right. Then she exited her apartment and headed to her car, her brown leather trolley bag in tow.

First things first: her chores. Her first stop was the hardware store for cleaning supplies and some security equipment; she trusted Brooklyn about as far as she could throw a table. Then it was off to the grocery store to stock up on non-perishables. She made a pit stop at a bookstore to pick up the first additions to her collection, unable to resist the urge. She was thankful that she'd chosen a large family van for her new car; her first choice, a Sudan, would never have done. It was half-past four when she reached her next destination.

The New York Public Library.

She smiled in adoration as she parked. If it hadn't been for her mission, she'd have happily spent the entire day buried in books. There were a select few things that she loved more than reading, her book-filled apartment building back in England was an ode to that. After parking, she trotted up the steps with surprising ease for a woman of her age. She entered and made her way to the nearest elevator. She was about to close it shut when a young Asian student joined her. Coincidentally, the young lady was going to the same level: the restricted section in the lower ground floor.

"Extra credit?" Paige asked the girl. "I'm assuming that's how you got permission to view the restricted section."

"Yes," she answered politely. "Had to pull a lot of strings just to get access to there. Luckily, my little brother's a genius at that."

Paige smiled, discreetly taking notice of the young lady and her bold hair and eye makeup. She resisted the urge to comment on how hot she must have been in her bulky leather jacket. Teenagers and their fashion, she thought.

They reached their destination and parted ways. As Paige expected and hoped for, there were no more than a handful of people in the large room. She strode over to one poorly-lit corner, being as inconspicuous as she could. Kneeling down in the shadows, in front of the leftmost bookshelf, she did a double take to see if anyone was watching. Then she got to work.

One book at a time, Paige emptied one half of the bottom row. When she was done, she ran her fingers over the floor of the bookcase until she came upon a familiar quarter-sized carving. Pushing down on it like a button, she opened a secret compartment on the floor next to her. There it was, just where she left it seven years ago: her platinum suitcase. With expert speed and stealth, she re-sealed the secret compartment, cleaned up her mess, and smuggled the suitcase out of the library and into her car. With that done, she proceeded to her next and final destination: Central Park.

Paige never noticed her motorcycle-mounted pursuer.

She arrived at Central Park just as the sun was setting. Dismounting, she brought out her leather trolley along with the platinum suitcase she'd retrieved from the library. She walked deep into the park, dragging the trolley behind her and the suitcase in her other hand. She needed a place with lots of trees and no people. More than once during her journey to through the park, she looked over her shoulder in response to a rustling of leaves or a strange gut feeling. Every time, though, she found nothing. Maybe she was just nervous.

What she was about to do did not exactly qualify as legal, after all.

By the time she'd found the perfect spot, it was completely dark save for the street lights. She'd found a large clearing surrounded by just enough trees to muffle out the sound. Kneeling in the center of the clearing, she set down both bags side by side. She opened the leather one, revealing it to be empty. However, this was no ordinary trolley.

She tore open the inner lining, reached in, and produced a small but intimidating-looking explosive device.

With deft fingers, and a reasonable amount of tape, she attached it to one side of the platinum case. Then she pulled down her left sleeve to look at the microcomputer strapped to her wrist-another nice little gift from her old job. She tinkered around with the buttons and inputted the secret code. The explosive she'd attached to the case began blinking a tiny green light; it had found the signal. After some more tinkering with the buttons, she programmed the countdown switch. Sixty seconds should be just enough time. All that was left to do was press the little red button...

"Freeze, Mary Poppins!"

Paige whirled round and took a defensive stance, gripping a sheet of pad paper between two fingers. What she saw made her eyes go wide as dinner plates. She knew that voice, but the figure it came from puzzled her. He stood a few paces from her, his body covered in padding and a baseball bat and hockey stick strapped across his back. Obscuring his face was a white hockey mask that was painted to resemble a skull.

"Casey?" she gasped. "What are you doing here? And what on earth are you wearing?"

Casey propped up his mask, revealing his painted face. "Enough, Paige. Tell me why you've kept all this from me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You tell me, Paige."

"You're sure it's her, Casey?" Leo asked, keeping a steady hand on Casey's shoulder.

"I'm positive, Leo," he answered shakily.

Donnie decided to weigh in. "The photo was taken twenty years ago, Casey. Maybe-"

With a huff, Casey shrugged off his friend's hand. "I know what I saw, guys! That's Paige. I'd know her anywhere."

The boy then proceeded to pace around the den, nearly tripping over Karai, who was knelt down and wiping up the soda he'd spilt. Donnie was still sitting with his laptop, typing to see what else he could find. Master Splinter sat with Mikey, holding an ice pack over his sleeping son's head; the poor turtle had suffered a relapse from all the excitement.

"Calm down, Casey," Raph insisted from his place near the kitchen.

Leo agreed. "Yeah, Casey. When it's Raph that's telling you to calm down, you know it's bad."

Raph nodded. "Yeah…Wait, what?"

"I can't!" the human boy bellowed. "What the heck is Paige doin' in that photo? What's she doin' with Bishop? The British Library? Gah! I don't even know where to start!"

Donnie's fingers were a blur over the keyboard. "According to this, there's no record of her. Paige Higgins, right?"

"Yeah," Casey sighed, having calmed down somewhat.

The purple-banded turtle shook his head. "Nope. Nothing."

Casey bent down and braced his hands on the edge of the coffee table. "This sucks! This sucks donkey-"

"Ahem," came from Splinter, and Casey wisely shut his mouth.

Karai stood, a rag and a bucket of dirty water in her hands. "And if you make a bigger mess, I'll kick in whatever teeth you have left." She made her way to the kitchen to wash her hands.

"Guys," Donnie continued. "Seriously, I'm not getting anything on her. There's practically no information about the British Library's employees."

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked Raph. "Let's go see this 'Paige' lady and see what she knows."

"No," was Casey's immediate response.

Raph shrugged. "Okay, then you do it."

"No," Casey repeated firmly. "Just drop it, Raph."

"You said so yourself that that's her," Raph insisted, threatening to turn this into a shouting match. "What do you wanna do, then?"

"Nothing!" he snapped. "You don't get it. This woman used to feed me a-and put clothes on me. She read stories to me and my little sister. She was there for me when my…mom died. And now I find out she kept this huge thing from me…I find out that she might be an enemy. You guys just don't know what it's like."

"I know what it's like." The voice came from Karai, who'd come in from the kitchen. She was wiping her hands with a paper towel. "Casey," she began in a serious tone. "The only way to know-the only way to get any peace of mind-is to find out for yourself." She locked gazes with Casey, but he was the first to look away, his own eyes downcast.

Leo wanted to relieve the tension in any way he could. "Donnie," he began. "Switch tactics. What can you find out about the British Library? Are they friendly?"

"From what I can see here, they were very friendly. They were a major superpower in the fields of education, humanities, publishing, health-care, etcetera. They were basically the driving force behind the whole United Kingdom and-to an extent-the entire Western world."

"Wait," Raph began, having picked up on one little detail. Past tense. "Were?"

The turtle in purple nodded. "Yeah…it says here that they shut down twenty years ago. Bankruptcy."

Raphael scoffed. "How does a major superpower go bankrupt?"

Donnie scratched at the back of his head. "That's just it. Everything's so shady…How can a huge, globally-ranked organization disappear so suddenly? As if they never existed."

"But they did exist," said Splinter as he ran a damp rag over Mikey's face. "I remember them now. They were the ones who sent missionaries to my clan's village. They taught us the basics of the English language and the alphabet."

Donnie nodded. "That does sound like something in their field. Well, the way I see it, no source on the internet is gonna tell us the whole story. If we want answers-to everything-then Paige is the only way we have of getting them."

"Then let's go and see what she knows," Raph persisted.

"That is not up to you, Raphael," Splinter countered firmly. After gently laying the ice pack on Mikey's head, he stood and made his way over to Casey. The rat placed one cold paw on the boy's shoulder. "Casey, I will have my sons swear not to hurt this Paige-san, but if she is indeed a link to Bishop, then we must find out what she knows about him." There came a tenseness in his voice as he added, "Especially if this Bishop intends to harm my sons."

It was true. His friends' safety was on the line. And the timing was very suspicious, Paige just happening to show up just as Bishop entered the country. The circumstances were also a red flag; Bishop was head of a medical group, and Paige was a licensed doctor. Could she really have worked with him? Could she still be working with him?

Paige?

Sweet but stern, gentle, and loving Paige? The same woman who sang his little sister those beautiful Hindi lullabies? Who provided his father with free healthcare out of the goodness of her heart? Who baked him birthday cakes with his mom every year for ten years? Who picked him up from hockey practice when his dad couldn't? Who sang him to sleep the night his mom passed away?

He took one deep solemn breath, letting it out with a sigh.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Here's the plan…Paige said she would cancel her plans tomorrow to have lunch with me. I'll tell her I can't make it and we can tail her from there…She told me she had a new place in…"

"You followed me here?" Paige demanded. "Stalked me the whole day?"

"Paige," Casey continued, his voice breaking. "What have you done?"

Paige's hands were trembling. She still couldn't believe he'd caught her. "Casey, I-I…I can explain, I swear."

"It can wait." He thrust out a mitted hand. "Just give me the remote. I'm not letting you blow up Central Park."

"What? No, Casey, it's not a bomb, I swear. Yes, there's C4 on it, but-"

Casey flashed his teeth, his patience wearing thin. "I said can it, Paige. Give me the remote."

"No, Casey." She tightened her grip on the device on her wrist. "I'm going to finish what I started. What I'm doing is harmless, I swear."

He lowered the mask back onto his face. "Last chance, Paige."

"No!" she repeated firmly. "Casey, I need you to trust me."

"Well, right now the people of New York need me to keep them safe." He drew a hockey stick from the holster strapped to his back.

All the gloom left Paige's face, replaced by an intimidating seriousness. "Casey, I know you won't fight me."

"That's why we're here."

From the trees around her descended three green creatures. Tall as the average man, they had large shells mounted on their backs and limbs that resembled a human's. Strapped over each of their faces were eye masks ranging in the colors red, blue, and purple. Then came a rustling behind her and Paige looked over her shoulder. There stood twenty paces from her was the Asian student she'd shared an elevator with at the library. She'd discarded her leather jacket in favor of a black suit and her book bag for a short single-edged sword.

For a moment, Paige was completely baffled.

That was when they struck.