Chapter 1
New York, November 20, 2021
Alfred Jones was already having a bad day before the crazy warrior lady tore a hole through the bus roof.
It was a quarter past nine in the evening in the bustling atmosphere of New York. Throngs of people, newly replenished months after the end of the pandemic, flocked the many sights of the City That Never Sleeps. Alfred was just making his way home from another busy day at work.
Hailing a cab, he decided to go for a bite to eat before heading home. He asked the cabbie to take him to the Five Guys at 14th Street. The driver, about his age and with sharp Oriental features, nodded and hit the gas. Off they went, passing gift shops, train stations, and a bagel store that, while being absolutely tempting to Al at the moment, was sadly long-closed since the afternoon.
Alfred had knowledge of the cabbies in New York that bordered on clairvoyance. The man on the wheel was not familiar to him, and he had ridden almost every cab in the city, from the loud, obnoxious pseudo-intellectuals engaging the radio programs in debate, to the placid, dreamy-eyed ones who were obviously on crack, or at least weed.
"Hey, you new to the job here, mister?" he asked in a jovial tone, noting that, while the driver seemed quite knowledgeable on the directions, seemed ill-prepared to brave the vicious traffic, which typical New York cabbies are practically born into. Must be an exchange student, Alfred guessed.
"Yes, this is actually my first week around here. I'm an exchange student from Tokyo."
Knew it. Patting himself mentally in the back, the would-be Sherlock Holmes settled into a more relaxed position. Soon, his head started to bob and the lights swam before his eyes as he drifted into sleep. It didn't even register in his mind that it was very difficult for a college student, both financially and time-based, to get into a career as a taxi driver, let alone an exchange student, whose VISA would only permit him to work within campus.
A sudden sharp turn jolted him awake, introducing his face to the window. It was a normal occurrence with the cab drivers here in New York, but what struck Alfred as strange was the sight of the Empire State Building looming large to his right. He realized they were now on 36th Street, on a fast careen across the now relatively open streets.
His first thought was kidnapping. He considered trying to wrestle control of the wheel from the scrawny driver. He very slowly positioned to tumble into the driver's seat, when the latter suddenly arrested him with a look from the rear-view mirror.
"Alfred", said the driver, to his shock. "I know you're probably freaking out right now, but you need to let me drive you to the John F. Kennedy Airport as soon as possible".
"The hell you do," said Alfred, indeed freaking out. He grabbed the door-handles, only to find them locked from the front. "I don't know how you know my name, but you're going to pull this cab over and let me out or you'll be catching these hands!"
"At the present, there are at least sixty-four ways I can maim you right now from back there, without any trouble from you since you never progressed beyond pastel belts in any martial arts discipline, but please, trust me, I'd rather not. Just try to stay still for now."
Alfred's heart was racing. One minute he was headed for a nice cheesy Patty Melt, the next he was a character in a Preston and Child thriller. He prayed for a distraction or a way to escape.
Seeing no sign from above, Alfred tried appealing to the young man. "Look, kid. Take my wallet; just let me out, now!"
No response.
He took of his jacket. "This shit's classic, it'll look good on you!"
Still no response.
He ripped his shoes off his feet. "OK, OK! Take these Timbs!"
The cab veered wildly as, Alfred realized, he hadn't changed socks for a week. The funk had shocked the driver and made him momentarily lose control of the cab. Alfred lunged, seizing the opportunity to knock out the driver. It didn't take long for the cab to finally collide with something, a swing set at the Robert Moses Playground. Mercifully, the grounds were free of children and the two junkies sitting at the swings had scattered seconds before impact.
Crawling over the slumped form of the driver, Alfred hastily unlocked the doors and ran off, tripping a bit while putting his Timbs back on. He considered his surroundings and decided to make a run for the United Nations Headquarters just ahead of him, risking crossing the 42nd Street, just to put distance between him and that crazy cab driver.
He had tired by the time he was at the block. Suddenly, a sweet captivating scent caught his attention. It seemed to come from a rolling cart that sold all sorts of international fare. Alfred, deciding he was safe from the cabbie, went to grab a hasty bite before his next move.
The owner of the cart, more of a mobile kitchen, really, was a girl Alfred guessed was in her 20's. He caught a whiff of Aloe Vera as she swept her hair back into a net as she prepared to take his order.
"We serve South and Southeast Asian meals, sir. Please consult the menu at the side" she said with a smile.
Her English was impeccable for someone he guessed was either Latina or Indian. She was free of the usual idiolects associated with those two groups. He tried to focus on the menu but something about the lady distracted him, as if he knew her from some time before.
"I think I'll have the adobo package."
"Very good, sir. That's our bestseller. A favourite hailing from the Philippines"
A light-bulb went up in Alfred's mind. She must be, those guys can blend into the American accent pretty well. His order came out hot and steamy in a takeout box. The girl rang up five dollars and ninety nine cents for it.
He sat down on the kerb and began attacking the box with gusto. The food was so good; he didn't even notice the sleepiness that overcame him, swift as a thief. He slumped, spilling the remains of his takeout box on the ground.
The lady swiftly secured Alfred, tying him up and loading her onto her vehicle. Taking care not to leave evidence, she swept the floor and removed all traces of the transaction. Then, she pulled out a phone and dialled a number.
"De La Cruz to HQ, target is sedated and ready for transport. Rendezvous point at Pier 25 down the Bay."
"Noted. Prepare for trans-Atlantic travel. There can be no delay" reported a strong European voice on the other end.
Maria de la Cruz took a deep breath. She was not an expert at these kinds of operations, but she had to step up if she were going to succeed. The HQ had placed faith in her ability to lure Jones into her trap and deliver him to them, and she dared not let them down. She took one last look at the side mirror before flooring the pedal, making for Sixth Avenue.