Chapter 12

One hour after Calla left the cabin.

Pov Linda

I’m heading towards general Ravens office. We just got the call that something went wrong with a training exercise in the Omega facility. I don’t know what it is but I hope Calla is okay.

*Knock knock*

“Enter” I hear the generals voice. I open the door and close it behind me. I note that there is Brian and another man with the general. The office is a big corner office, with a desk by the corner, large bulletproof windows instead of outer walls and a table with four chairs and a couch to the right from the door.

“Sir” I salute the general and throw an inquisitive glance towards Brian and the other man. The other man is wearing the clothes of the Omega facility. He is a bald, warrior like man with blue eyes. But he doesn’t look like much of a warrior at the moment as is evident on his face. He looks nervous, and something is obviously pressing on his mind.

General Raven gestures us to sit by the coffee table and takes the chair at the end of the table for himself.

“Mr. Owel. Please tell the major what you just told me.” The general says.

Owel lets out a loud sigh, before beginning his explanation.

“I got a phone call couple of nights ago from my wife’s number…” He goes into the explanation.

When he goes to the point that he was told to arrange Calla’s death, I cannot help but to angrily yell:

“What!?”

“Calm down Linda, let him finish” Brian tries to calm me down.

I got very attached to Calla in our brief moments of interactions. In that short time I came to see her as something akin to a daughter or a little sister. I didn’t realize it at the time but now it is obvious as my worry goes through the roof when the attempt on her life is mentioned.

Owel finishes his explanation about what has transpired and I am relieved when I hear that Calla didn’t even sustain any injuries. The general informs me of the corrective actions that has been made so far:

“We already have people looking for Mr. Owel’s family. We have sent a picture of Calla to the local authorities and gave them an explanation that she escaped our medical quarters and that she suffers from PTSD. Lies of course, but we don’t want them to know about her past. We told them that she has some training and if found, they should report it to us and to not take any action to secure her, as we don’t want the Frances finest to get hurt.”

Well that was a good choice of action. He couldn’t just say that the assassin we were trying to train as an operative escaped after an attempt on her life. They would try to forcefully apprehend her and that wouldn’t end well.

“And now you are up to speed. Do either of you know where she might be heading?” The general says.

“No sir” I answer as I really have no idea where she would go other than the J.A.T.F. base, and that isn’t going to happen.

“Sir, she asked questions about the kidnappers and my instructions. I think she is going to go after them.” Owel says.

That is all well and good but we don’t even know who they are. Safe bet would be someone from her past or someone who saw her potential and didn’t want her in the J.A.T.F.

*knock knock*

“Enter” general Raven says.

A man in a suit enters the room and I recognize him. He is the doctor who did the psych evaluation on Calla.

“Sir, I just came from the medical quarters. It seems that three of the candidates are dead, and two are severely injured but nothing fatal.” Dr. Lenz says

It seems the doctor knew a little about the situation but not much as general Raven briefly explains it to him.

“Do you have any idea what she would do in a situation like this?” The general asks.

“If it were a normal girl who came under an attack she would find the police or go to a place familiar to her or somewhere she would feel safe, a church for example. But alas, she isn’t a normal girl. If I have to guess based on the information I have about her I think she would firstly find a way to arm herself and hide. Or rather than hiding she would find a place where to plan her next move and rest.” The doctor says.

“She is armed. She took the live ammo I had.” Owel grudgingly says.

I cannot help but to worry. She has no idea how to act with the normal populace and that is probably where she would go to hiding.

I want to say something useful but nothing comes to mind. I’m worried for her safety when I should be worried about the safety of those around her. She could perceive a simple gesture as an act of aggression. She has never been to a big urban area and the amount of people in the base already made her uncomfortable. I hope she is not heading for Paris.

“I thought as much. Brian. Take a team of analysts and start combing through the surveillance cams at Paris for any sign of her. Also monitor the police radios if they happen to find her. Major, you can participate in the search but Brian is in charge. Leave your emotions out of it. Our primary concern is the safety of the civilians, but I don’t think she poses a threat to them. Dr. Lenz, call the hospitals if something out of the ordinary comes to their attention. That is all, dismissed.” The general issues our orders.

The safety of the civilians, huh. Well it’s only natural for the J.A.T.F.

“And also major, Calla said she is sorry” Owel tells me.

I rise from my seat and follow Brian as we start heading towards the situation room. She is sorry. She shouldn’t be. From the way I see this, she is the victim, yet again.

I really hope she isn’t headed for Paris…

Paris

Pov Calla

Fuck, it hurts my ears. The noise. The sun has barely risen and there are already so much people on the streets. The cars are buzzing about and honking away, and every time they do I have to cover my ears.

Everywhere, even from the houses I can hear people walking, talking, arguing and yelling. I can hear several cries of babies but can’t say from which direction they come from. The different music and radio shows the car drivers are listening is becoming a one loud mess in my ears.

I can barely walk straight as the noises haunt me. And the visual distractions. Every time a traffic light changes I flinch at the direction. Every time a new car comes around the corner I automatically and involuntarily check its model and license plate. I cannot take this.

All I want to do now is to hug my knees and scream but my better judgement doesn’t let me do that. I am still far-off the center of the city and I’m already in this much trouble.

I spot a narrow alley couple of steps ahead of me and head there, supporting my walking by keeping my hand to the wall. I get to the alley but the noise is still too loud and I head deeper to the narrow back alleys.

Finally a breather. I am not sure how long I walked but the noise is manageable now. I stop in the dirty alley and lean against the wall, steadying my breath. I still hear conversations taking place inside the houses but that is something I can take. The street noises were the worst of it.

I look around. The alley is narrow, so much so that three persons could barely walk side by side. The houses surrounding me is brick walled six or seven storied apartment buildings from the looks of it.

Now that I can think clearly I remember what I had to do. I need money and ID. My trainers once mentioned that in the major cities there is usually a go bag of their organization hidden. In the bag there would be money, a gun, ID’s for different ages, names, genders and nationalities with the picture left blank. And a phone that has two numbers. One of them would be some guy from Al-Aman. My trainer told me that if I’m ever separated from them I should use that number. He didn’t tell me whose the other number is.

If I remember correctly it should be in the train- or metro station that have customer lockers and that is nearest the tallest building in the city. I really hope that it is there. But to get there without any problems I need money for a cab.

As I’m thinking about this I hear some voices from further down the alley.

“Shut up and give it to me! You chose the wrong way to take a shortcut.” Is heard in French with some snickering.

I walk around the corner and keep going. The narrow alley widens a bit, now a single car could drive through it.

“Okay, okay. Just don’t hurt us.” A woman’s voice sounds.

They are behind the next corner. I am not sure what is going on but it sounds like someone wants something from someone. And that someone doesn’t want to get hurt.

I take a peek behind the corner and see a couple dressed in lavish clothing. And opposite of them is two men in ragged clothing and the other one is holding a small knife.

Are they threatened? Is this a mugging? A threat of violence with the intent to rob. Probably. Why isn’t he defending himself? It’s only a small knife with a man that looks malnourished.

I step from behind the corner and walk towards them. When the assailants notice me they glance at each other and letting out a devilish smile, showing their yellow teeth.

“Now what do we have here? A little girl has come to play?” He says in French. Now I’m glad that I was taught the different languages by my trainers.

I don’t answer them and just keep walking towards them. I’m sure they wouldn’t look so confident if I hadn’t thrown my holster away and hidden the weapon to my lower back, under my belt with the knife.

“Run away! Leave!” The well-dressed woman yells to me but I ignore it. Instead I look at the thick wallet that one of the thugs has in his hand.

“You ain’t going nowhere kid” The one holding the knife says. What an idiot. Double negative means I am going somewhere. I guess I’m better versed in French than the two Frenchmen in front of me.

He takes a step closer to me, coming to a stop where he could reach me with his knife while the one holding the wallet circles to my left.

Before they have a chance to do anything I do a rapid wristlock to the knife man so fast that he hasn’t got the time to adjust and I break the bones on his wrist. The knife drops to the ground and the other assailant takes a step back in fright.

Before he can do anything stupid I kick the ankle of the man whose wrist I just broke, taking him of balance and tripping him, while simultaneously I take my weapon from by back aiming to the other man.

He looks stupefied as he raises his arms towards the sky. The couple looks at me with round eyes, or rather they look at my gun.

Nobody moves or speak for a few seconds before I break the silence.

“Give.” I say in French while pointing the wallet with my left hand.

He obediently hands it over. I take a few steps back and point at his friend.

“Leave before I break something important.”

He looks me for a second before going to his friend and helping him up.

“Wait.” I say. I still look too suspicious even without the gun as I’m wearing the Omega training clothes. The man who had the wallet is wearing a thin black parka jacket, that doesn’t look too worn out. I want it.

“Give me you jacket”

He looks stupefied for a moment and then unwillingly hands his jacket to me. I watch as they walk around the corner before putting the jacket on. It’s too big but it will do for now. I put my gun to the big pocket on the right side of the jacket and take all the cash from the wallet before throwing it to the ground.

The well-dressed couple just realized that they weren’t saved.

“Now you are going to rob me?! Where are your parents?” The man says.

“No idea. And I didn’t rob you. I robbed the guys who robbed you. There’s a difference.” I say and throw the wallet to the man. I don’t need his cards. Only the cash.

I turn around to walk towards the street noises while hearing some very colorful use of the French tongue behind me. Is that the origin of the expression ‘pardon my French’? I wonder.

Now I have money for the cab, but as I’m nearing the street I remember something crucial. The noise. How can I hail a cab for me in the noisy street? I remember when my trainers told me about the world in order for me to be able to blend in they mentioned cabs or taxies then. You can hail them at the street, and they’ll take you to where you need to go if you pay them.

But I still need to get to the street. Then I have an idea.

I take the rubber bullets that were left in my pants pocket. From two of them I take of the metallic cartridge, leaving only the rubber parts to my hands. I stuff them to my ears and the noise pollution drops to a quieter level. I’m a fricking genius. I cannot help but to smile a smile of victory against the streets.

I walk to the ‘not so noisy street anymore’ and start walking by it. I want to disappear to the masses of people before the well-dressed couple comes out of the alley.

The streets are a lot cleaner than the alleys I just came from. The six storied buildings are replaced with few stories higher as I walk towards the Eiffel Tower that is seen behind the tall buildings.

I look at the different display windows to my left as I keep going, and surveying the different cars that come and go.

Then I see it. A white car with a taxi sign on the roof. I raise my hand and it stops next to me. I go into the backseat and ask the driver:

“Is there a metro or train station with customer lockers near the Eiffel Tower?”

He looks at me questionably for a second and I just smile back at him and then he answers that there is a metro station but he isn’t sure if there is lockers in it.

“Take me there” I say. If that isn’t the place I just have to find another taxi and try again. The couple had a lot of cash on them so money shouldn’t be issue for a day or two.

I board the back seat and we start moving. I’m looking at the driver, or more precisely his actions, as I was never taught to drive and it interests me.

At some point our cab enters a big circle for cars to drive around it. I don’t understand why there would be something so pointless in the middle of the city. At the center of the circle is a big ass door made of white greyish stone. It looks pretty and majestic with the carvings and decorations but still, what is its point. A big ass door that nobody needs built in the middle of the car circle. Probably designed by some megalomaniac.

After the car drive which I spent looking from the window, getting used to all the different sounds and sights I step out of the cab after handing some bills to the driver. I guess the amount was appropriate as he smiles and drives of.

I enter the underground metro station. The air is a bit cooler down here. The voices doesn’t ease much because the echoes but I am not bothered by much. I walk by the tracks where people are waiting for their train. And then it comes.

*SCREEEEEECH* Sounds as the train starts slowing down.

I almost lose my balance as I cover my ears and lean against the wall. Damn, this place is louder than the streets.

I keep walking while covering my ears and slipping through the masses of people. There are so many of them. How on earth can we all be in this small place at the same time? How is there enough air for everybody? If I remember right, there should be over two million people in Paris but I never thought about the number until now. And there are even cities with greater population in existence? How can they all fit in?

I spot a wall filled with red and blue lockers. I walk by them surveying each of them. Then I see it. A locker where somebody had drawn two x’s interlapping. That should be it. I type the key code I was made to memorize.

186458

With a click it opens. Before I take the black shoulder bag made of cloth from inside I check that there isn’t anything that alarms anybody that the locker has been opened and there isn’t. I take the bag and head for the bathrooms.

I walk the tunnels to where I came from as I remember that there were doors where there read WC.

I have three doors in front of me now. By my powers of deduction I reason that the one with the picture of a person wearing a dress is for girls, the on with pants is for boys and the last on is for… No idea. People who sits on something? I’ll just go to the one with the skirt.

In my bathroom stall I check the context of the bag. There is a lot of cash, both Euro’s and American dollars. There is multiple ID’s and a pistol with a few clips. There is also a phone that is turned off.

I think a phone can still be tracked if turned off so I take the battery out of it, with its sim-card.

I check the bag itself to see that there aren’t any tracking devices in it. I put everything in the bag like it was and start heading out from the station.

Next I need a picture for the ID, and a sea route to America, as the safehouse I’m headed for is in Washington and I couldn’t hope to smuggle my pistol through airport security. Also I want a bigger gun. I already have a good idea how to obtain one. It’s simple really.

There is the two numbers in the phone. I call the one that I was instructed not to use. I say I’m Seven and leave it on a bench somewhere. Then I wait for the bad guys to show up, take their gun if they have a big one and see if I can track them back to where ever they came from.

A great plan, if I do say so myself.

Maybe if that plan pans out I don’t even need to visit the safehouse.

Well that is a matter for another time. Time to hail a cab, and ask where I can have my picture taken.

Pov Linda

“What!?” I yell at Brian. He just informed me that a girl fitting Calla’s description robbed a very influential couple in the streets of Paris.

“This cannot be happening” I mutter to myself. She has already committed a crime just hours after she left.

“We aren’t even sure it was her. Besides, how else she could get money when she knows next to nothing how the real world operates beside from her factoids.” He tries to calm me down.

I snatch the report from his hand and read it to him out loud:

“… then the assailants were stopped by a blond girl in black trousers and tank top. The girl broke the arm of one of the men before holding the other at gun point. She took the wallet of the victim and the jacket of the other assailant before disappearing in the streets…”

“…”

“Well? That sounds like her to me.” I ask him. Brian has a point though. She needs money if she wants to be able to move around but she will need a lot more than that. And now the French police are asking awkward questions that we do not want to answer.

Like why is she armed. Or what is her name.

“We just caught a hit on the facial recognition software! Look. This was taken ten minutes ago from a metro station near the tower.” An analyst comes to us waving a security camera picture. There is clearly Calla.

“What is that bag with her? And I like the jacket.” Brian says as I glance at him disapproving. Though, the jacket looks good, even if it’s few sizes too large.

“No idea. Let’s get the ground teams to survey the area. Also inform the police about it. Tell them not to engage or to try and take her in to custody if found.” I say and Brian nods. He clearly didn’t like that I said that like I was giving orders when he is the one in charge but he has realized that Calla is important to me.

“I will go too. Inform me if you find anything. I just cannot sit here and do nothing.” I inform Brian and head out of the situation room before he has a chance to complain.

Pov Calla

I’m once again at the backseat of a cab. Before I got in, I spotted a small shop that sells electronics. I bought my self a small pad for when I want to use the tracking program for the tracker I took from the cabin. I also bought five cheap phones with prepaid cards. I copied the two numbers to one of the phones from the phone I got from the go bag and threw it away.

Now, instead of being glued to the window I’m checking if the clips from the go back fit in to my gun from the Omega. That is the gun I want to use as I have a suppressor for it. They don’t fit but the bullets are the same so I empty the clips to a small pocket inside my shoulder bag and decide to toss the second gun when I have the chance.

The driver frighteningly glances at me from the back mirror. What the fuck is his problem?

The car comes to a stop and the driver points at the store next to us. In the windows there are different kinds of photographs from different people in different frames.

I say my thanks as I toss a bill to the driver. I think that ought to be enough. I guess it was as the driver speeds away immediately when I get out of the car. I didn’t even get to close the door. Perhaps it was too much and he hurried away before I change my mind?

I enter the shop and a lady in twenties welcomes me.

“I need a picture for my ID” I say to her.

“All right. I don’t have any other customers now so you can get it immediately” She answers.

I sit on the chair in front of a white large paper wall. She goes behind the camera and says to me that I shouldn’t smile when a picture for ID is taken. Was I smiling? I didn’t notice. Perhaps she just informed me.

I look at the camera and concentrate on not smiling.

With a click and a flash of light the picture is taken. She informs me that she will print the picture now, and goes to her computer.

A half minute later she is giving me two copies of the pictures with shaking hands. I thank her and give her the money I owe. I look at the picture when I leave the shop. It turned out okay. I start walking the street as I don’t see any cabs near me. Just when I’m turning the corner I see J.A.T.F. cars rushing to the street and heading for the shop I was just in. How did they find me?

Surveillance cameras of course. How stupid of me. All my missions from before were in a war ravaged countries but this is a modern city with modern technologies. Of course they have some software to go through the surveillance feed and to find me.

I have to postpone my brilliant plan to acquire a bigger gun. It’s too risky to do it in Paris. I’ll do it in Washington. It’s better that way. Less risky and less to smuggle to USA.

I need to go to the sea now and find a ship headed for the states. I doubt the cabs would take me that far but there is another means of transportation. It’s like a cab but bigger and it goes by premeditated routes. The bus.

As I gain distance to the shop I keep looking at the different display windows that are on either side of the street. There are clothes and jewelry displayed with many other things but I couldn’t care less about those. I’m looking at the reflections on the windows and try and spot if there is anybody following me.

I see no one and then I spot a cab that turned my way. I raise my hand and waive to the driver. It stops and I ask the driver to go to the bus station. We drive the way I just came from and I can see that Linda has entered the shop. I fight the urge to yell out to her. I cannot go and talk to her now. I have to wait and in the future when I have resolved my matters I can see her again.

Some minutes earlier

Pov Linda

I’m in front of the stations underground access. Our teams are searching it but with no luck. Then I get a call from Brian.

“Hello” I answer.

“Linda. A taxi driver just called the emergency services. He said that there was a girl he gave a ride that fits the description of Calla. He also said that the girl was comparing two pistols on his back seat while counting her bullets. I think it’s a safe bet that she is Calla.” Brian says through the phone, clearly amused.

“…”

I don’t reply right away as I digest what I just heard. She really is oblivious when it comes to civilians. Did the thought even cross her mind that they might be wary of people with weapons other than authorities?

“Where did she go?” I ask, realizing that the situation is time sensitive and I have no time to think about her habits.

“She asked where she can have her pictures taken and the driver took her to…” He tells me the address and I jump to the car that was next to me. I tell the address to the sergeant driving the car and we rush through the streets, not caring for the speed limits.

After a short drive we stop in front of the shop. I go straight in and ask if there was a girl in here with black parka and blond hair.

“There was. She have her photo taken for ID” She answers to me with broken English. I tell the others that followed us to search the streets near this place, and I call Brian and tell him to check if there are any security cameras in the area that got a glimpse of her.

The shop owner prints something and hands it to me. I look at what is.

“…pfft hah hahahh” I cannot help but to laugh at the picture. She looks like the camera is the gun at her execution and it’s going to be fired any moment now. Or it is a target, and she is ready to ‘terminate’ it, as she would put it.

I take the picture and make sure the others who are with me in the shop aren’t looking when I place it in my wallet. Few days ago I thought that I’d like to have a photo of her and now I got it. Though I wish she was smiling.

As I have gotten no word from the men searching her I can safely assume that she has already left the area. I decide to go back to the HQ. She will survive. And when she is ready, I think she will make contact with me. I hope that.