15

15

         “So, you’ve got the doll, right? Come on, let’s settle this peacefully. We don’t need any bloodshed.”

         “Then you’d better follow my rules, or someone from your side will die.”
         A blonde man in green t-shirt and long jeans was talking inside a phone booth in (), as he looked around him anxiously. A lot of people were passing by, and he’s been talking for at least two minutes – he could get suspected by anyone at anytime now. And what was the unluckiest thing for him was that a red haired man in a suit was standing behind him, waiting to use the phone. He would look at his golden Rolex watch that shone brightly under the sun every few seconds – this busy businessman must be in a hurry. That has also caused the rise of the tension inside the blonde man, making him want to end the call quickly. He then heard the bass voice on the other part spoke again.

         Any police or agent might be hiding around this crowd.

         “Of course, it’s not difficult to…”

         “We’ll end this here.” He could see the countdown timer on the screen at ten, then decreasing into nine, and eight, and…

         And so, he put down the phone. But by that time, it was too late.

         “Thanks for using the phone, mister.”

         Suddenly the blonde man felt a paralysing pain on his spine, causing him to fall to the hard phone booth floor. He then felt his back got heavy, and fell down to the ground. He then felt his hands being pulled by someone, and before he knew it, they were wrapped in something smooth.

         “Charlie Charlie, panda. I’ve got the target.”

~•~

         “I see. So it’s Ivan.”

         Georgia looked down at the iPhone she was holding in her hands, where a white cable was sticking out of it. Two white cables were also hanging down from her ears, but she didn’t seem to be annoyed with that. She then nodded and looked at the painting of the lady in black kimono painted on the doors of the wardrobe in front of her, and looked at one of the yellow flowers, which was a part of her kimono’s ornaments.

         “I think they can change my room now. I’ll go check later. …I’ll just reason that the water heater is broken. Well, it is. Is there anything else?”

         She remained silent for a while, trying to listen from her headphones, then suddenly her eyes saddened. As if she just remembered something very precious she just lost, and that there was no way to get it back, even if she wanted to…

         “Yes. She chose that way. I guess it’s a bit too much to her…”

         She then nodded, then forced a smile, but what appeared was a thin, grim smile.

         “Of course, I’m not going to be taken away by that. …Okay, call me if something happens.”

         “She pulled the headphones out from her ears and put the phone on the bedside table. She kept sitting on her bed for a while, not moving, as she felt her mind wandering.

         Ivan. Someone I thought I could trust…

         Is there really nobody I can trust?

         She turned to the wooden door, which was protecting her room, then she sighed and walked to the door.

         Then, next is…

~•~

         Dave was sitting in front of a Mac, moving his index finger around a grey metal pad. Shown on the screen was a white window, with a lot of words in rows on it. He moved his finger, and the black arrow on the screen moved according to how his finger moved. The words then changed – there were fewer words on the screen, and some bigger, bolder words above all those words.

         “An email from your girlfriend?”

         He felt his heart jumped in surprise, and quickly turned back, only to see a blonde woman with wavy hair standing behind him. He smiled sheepishly, in relief that it was nobody, too, and turned back to the screen.        

         “It’s, well, from a friend.”

         “Then I won’t interfere with your business,” she said as she turned away. “I’ll go ask the hotel manager if I can change rooms.”

         “Eh? What’s wrong?” I thought everything has been going quite smoothly, well, the service is good…

         “The water heater is broken, or kind,” she answered. “The water is either icing cold or boiling hot. I’ll ask if I can go change my room.”

         Oh… “Okay.”

         He turned back to the screen as he felt his heart raced a bit. Actually, he was feeling a bit uneasy about what just happened, but he clicked the words in blue on the screen anyway.

         …The plan can’t be messed. I have to keep an eye on her now…

~•~

         “So who do you work for? Answer me.”

         Abigail poured herself some coffee as she watched a fat man with brown hair talking to a blonde man, who was sitting on a wooden armchair with his hands handcuffed to the arm rests. The poor blonde man looked much thinner compared to his interrogator, who was looking at him with fierce eyes.

         “Tell me.”

         “I said, I’m not working for any…”

         Abigail sipped some of her coffee as she watched the violence action going on in front of her. She then felt something strange on her tongue – the coffee must be too bitter. She took a small bag of white sugar and tore it open.

         “Well, if it is just some random crank call…” Connor tilted the head of his victim and put his face a few inches in front of his. “Then it’s something impossible. You know why?”

         “Why?”

         Connor looked at the young man’s eyes, which were looking at him. The eyes were giving out a very unpleasant look, as if he was looking down at this interrogator who might just kill him slowly, painfully. And just looking at the young man’s eyes actually made Connor’s blood boiled in his head, making him want to kill the young man right there, shouldn’t Abigail be in the room. And to top off his wrath… The young man was smiling to him, no, maybe a smirk would be a better words, making him look awfully cynical.

         “I’m not telling you, until I’m being told.”
         “I’ve told you,” the young man insisted. “I know nothing about it.”

         Abigail turned to Connor – now his face flushed in anger – he was surely mad with the stubborn young man. She sighed silently in boredom and poured herself more coffee.

         To me, this is gonna take forever. Maybe I should take over and save some time.

         “Connor, let me handle this.”

         “Eh?” He quickly turned to her with a shocked expression. Women usually don’t mess up with this kind of violence, especially in such a rude, Gestapo-styled ones…

         “But…”

         “Oh, come on, Connie,” she said as she pushed him aside with her whole body, reconsidering his weight. “Just watch and learn, okay?”

         She smiled a fake smile and stood in front of the blonde young man, who was looking at her with the same cynical smile. He had long hair, so he couldn’t possibly be a student – he had metal earrings, a spider tattoo on the back of his left hand, and he looked like he was on his twenties… nearing thirties. Slightly younger than her.

         “You seem confident.”

         “Of course I am…”

         Her right hand darted to his throat, inputting a force of 200 kilopascals into his neck. He coughed loudly, coughing out something white, but then he felt something hot and bitter entered his mouth. He coughed and choked as she removed her hand from him and looked at her hand, which had coffee on it. Connor, who was standing in the corner of the dim-lighted room, was speechless at the scene.

         “Ew,” she said with a disgusted face. There was coffee and saliva on her hand, and she quickly shook it off, sending drops of liquid upon the concrete floor. “I never expected it to be this dirty…”

         She looked at the man again, then she smiled another fake smile and kicked the chair. The chair toppled over and he screamed, as the hard floor got into contact with his skull, and he could quickly see a shadow above him.

         “So… Do you have any last words?”

         The man looked at her for a while – his mind has gone off somewhere – but then as his mind got back he jerked up to her with all his might. He quickly felt a sharp pain on his wrists, thanks to the handcuffs holding him tight. He could see the black haired woman above him took out a small knife from her pocket and swung it above him.

         “You know?” she asked sarcastically. “I can drop this and kill you. And this is London. The gravity is quite high…”

         And for the first time of his life, he finally felt what fear is like. It was a paralysing feeling that conquered his body in seconds, nearly paralysing him.

         “Any last words? Maybe to your girl…”

         “They…” His tongue started to move uncontrollably. “They are planning to trade it.”

         Abigail smiled, knowing that her trick has worked, and stepped a foot on the poor man’s chest.

         “With?”

         “I don’t know!” the man shouted in panic. “Really! I don’t know! Charles is the one arranging everything! He just told us to do this and that…”

         “Where is the doll?”

         “I don’t know!” he shouted again, closing his eyes in fear. “My friends are the ones hiding them! I’m just told to contact you guys, to scare you guys! Please! I’ve told you everything I know, now please let me go!”

         “Where is Charles?”

         “The last time he met us was at the bar! He said he’d arrange things…”

         “Is there anybody else I can talk to about, for more detailed information?”

         “If there is, I don’t know! Don’t ask me! Now please let me go!”

         Abigail sighed loudly and turned to Connor, who has frozen in the corner of the room. He nodded shakingly to his boss, then forced a grim smile. She turned back to the victim, who was lying on the ground, still seated on his seat – there were brown stains on his green shirt and his eyes were closed in fear, like a kid who just watched a horror film for the first time.

         “I guess there’s no point trying to pry anything out of you now,” she said as she turned away. “Connie, call Alan and do what you should do.”

         “Yes!”

         Abigail walked to the white plastic door and opened it, then she stepped out to the cold hallway, where a few other agents were walking there. They would smile to her, or said hi to her, and she’d answer them with a hi or good afternoon. But, even if she looked just fine outside, she wasn’t inside…

         Charles.

         I guess you’ve come back to settle our odds, after last time…

~•~

         London, 2345 hours

         The bar was silent and still that day. There was only one customer sitting in front of the long mahogany table, a blonde man in olive polyester raincoat was sitting in front of him. Of course, it wasn’t raining outside, but thanks to something those called environment experts call ‘global warming’, it’s not impossible that it would rain. The man was drinking a glass of gin, and he didn’t seem to need anything else at that moment, so the bartender could wipe his glasses and keep an eye on his customer.

         “Alone today?”

         “Well, I’m waiting for a friend to come,” the customer answered. “I think he’ll be here shortly…”

         “I see that,” the bartender said with a smile. “Maybe I can make a drink for him in advance?”

         “That’s a good idea,” the man answered. “Well, why don’t you make Moscow Mule?”

         “Is he Russian?”
         “Um-hum.”

         Suddenly they heard the bell rung, but the customer wasn’t even interested in knowing who was coming to accompany him. The bartender turned to the door, though, as the one who tends the place, and gave a smile. Sadly, the brown haired man was ignoring him. The new customer must be around his fifties, and from his face, this guy’s Russian, the bartender quickly deduced. The customer then turned to the one who just got in and threw a smile.

         “Well, we were just talking about you.”

         “You know, someone is killed from my side,” the brown haired man said as he sat down to the younger man. “And I don’t want more victims. So maybe…”

         “Don’t worry about that,” the younger man said. “They caught someone from my side, and… well, I guess he’s spilled the beans. My men are running now.”

         He turned back to the bartender and gave him a grim smile.

         “Well, you know, we’re mafia bosses,” he said with a laugh. “It’s normal if you don’t understand anything.”

         “Don’t worry, just talk about what you should,” the bartender said. “Besides, we, bartenders, don’t interfere with your problems.”

         “It’s good to hear that,” the brown haired man answered. “Because I’m going to tell this little guy to get rid of all obstacles – if you understand.”

         “It’s simple,” the blonde man answered. “Is the Moscow Mule done?”

         “Of course.” The bartender slid a glass to the older customer and smiled. “Moscow Mule, sia.”

         “You bartenders are always so nosy,” the older man answered as he took his glass. “But please, don’t interfere with our problem, okay?”

         “Like he’d want to,” the blonde man answered with a laugh. “Ignore this old man. He’s just speaking rubbish.”

         “I don’t mind what you say about me,” the older man said. “I just want this to go perfectly.”

         “Of course, that’s simple, well, you know,” the blonde man answered. “I’ll make sure of that. Oh, and I’ll leave you and your men a bit fun from the game.”

         “Good to hear that.”

         And I have to make sure I can see her. That’s all that matters. It’s up to this old man about what he wants to do with those Britons…

         “Cheers,” he said as he rose his glass. “For our success…”