Death by Denim Page 6

  “It’s time,” Caraday said.

  I nodded and drained my glass. Without a word, I followed her out the door and down the apartment building stairs. Once we had slipped outside into the balmy night air, she whispered her instructions.

  “You will take the overnight train to Varese.” She held out a small piece of paper. “Here is the Mulos’ last known address.”

  “How did you get it?” I asked.

  “Your mother. She doesn’t know you are doing this. Are you still okay with that?”

  I straightened my shoulders and nodded.

  Caraday tucked the paper into my hand. “You must memorize this address and then destroy the note, do you understand?”

  Again, I nodded, my fist closing around the paper.

  “The Mole will know you are coming,” Caraday said softly. “He will be following you, but don’t worry; he wants you and the Mulo boy together. You will reach his family unharmed. Once you are there and The Mole emerges, our operatives will take over.” She handed me an envelope containing a train ticket and a small stack of Euros.

  I pulled out the train ticket and stuck the envelope in the waistband of my running shorts, pulling the hem of my shirt down to cover it.

  “Your train leaves for Varese in less than an hour,” she whispered. “Go now.”

  “My mom—”

  “She’s sleeping. Go.”

  I slipped out into the shadowed streets, my heart tripping crazily. I’m sure part of that was adrenaline, but a whole lot had to do with the fact that I had no idea what I was about to get myself into.

  Hurrying through the darkened street, my heart sped up even more. I wasn’t sure I could find my way back to the train station in the daylight, let alone at night. I bit my lip, eyeing the shadowed doorways and alleyways, and prayed I wouldn’t get lost.

  For once I was glad for Mom’s nagging about being aware of my surroundings because as I worked my way backward through the streets I began to recognize the boutiques and cafés Ryan and I had passed earlier that day. I also heard traffic noises just outside the quiet of the neighborhood so I knew I was headed in the right direction.

  But then I heard another noise. At first I thought it was the echo of my own footsteps because the cadence matched mine exactly. I had to skip a step to avoid stepping onto a storm grate, but the footstep behind me fell without the interruption.

  I thought of how I had seen Marlboro Man at the entrance to the Metro and my mouth went dry. Had he followed me? I didn’t waste the time to turn around and find out, but tore down the street like my hair was on fire. I turned one corner and then another trying to shake him, but it wasn’t working. I needed lights, people, attention. I slipped through a narrow alleyway and came out near a busy intersection and cut across the street. Cars swerved and honked angrily, but I didn’t have time to worry about them. The Metro station lay dead ahead but not close enough; I could hear feet pounding the pavement behind me. Gaining ground.

  Suddenly, a man on a bicycle swerved right in front of me, ringing his bell furiously. I reared back and jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the collision. The person behind me wasn’t so lucky.

  I heard the crash and the bike going down, but I wasn’t about to stop to take a look. I leaped down the stairs to the Metro two at a time and pulled the ticket Caraday had given me from my pocket. When I tried to use it to release the turnstile, though, the turnstile didn’t budge. I cursed under my breath. It was a long-distance train ticket and didn’t work for the Metro. I shot a panicked look back at the stairs and then jumped over the machine.

  A lady inside the ticket booth yelled something to me, but I couldn’t stop to listen. I tore down another set of stairs to where a huge route schedule was posted on the wall. I paused long enough to find my train and platform number. My heart sank. There were ten minutes before the next train. What was I supposed to do for ten minutes? Where was I supposed to hide?

  I spun around, looking for someplace—anyplace—but there was nothing, not even a bathroom to duck in to. All I saw were a handful of pay toilet booths, and I had no change.

  It was well past rush hour, so only a few people milled about, waiting for the train—no crowd to get lost in. Even worse, I realized, the platform itself was a dead end. No escape routes. I was trapped.

  By then I was in full panic mode. I spun around to head back to the main platform and ran smack into Ryan. He was breathing heavily and his face glistened with sweat.

  He caught me as I stumbled backward. “We’ll need to work on your evasion technique.”

  My hands curled into fists. “That was you chasing after me? Why didn’t you just tell me? I about had a heart attack.”

  “You didn’t exactly hang around long enough for me to tell you anything.”

  “Ever heard of calling after me?”

  “Would you have stopped?”

  “No. Why are you following me, anyway?”

  “To make sure you were safe.”

  I thought about me dodging cars on the boulevard and I wanted to hit him. “Go back home, Ryan. You’re not going to stop me.”

  “Stop you from what?”

  “Oh, come on. I know what you’re doing.”

  He raised his chin, challenging. “And what is that?”

  “You found out where I’m going and you came to take me back to my mom.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “I’m coming with you.”

  “What? No.” What was I, twelve? I didn’t need him to hold my hand. “I can do this myself.”

  “So you know where to find your boyfriend?”

  I don’t know why that made me mad, but it did. Maybe because I knew it could never be true. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said darkly.

  Ryan started to reply, but his voice was drowned out by an incomprehensible voice coming over the loudspeakers. He cocked his head as he listened and then pointed his chin toward a long line of cars rumbling into the station. “This is our train.”

  “My train,” I corrected.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close so that his face was within inches of mine. “It’s my job to protect you,” he said in a low voice. “I’m coming with you.”

  CHAPTER 6

  I stared him down. This was not the first time Ryan had told me he had been assigned to watch over me. When we were in the Cascades, he’d said the same thing. What was he, my permanent guardian? I wasn’t sure if I liked the idea or resented it. In any case, it made arguing with him pointless. I had little alternative but to give in. At least for the moment. “Fine,” I grumbled.

  Ryan ushered me onto the train and steered me toward a couple of vacant seats. The weight of his hand on my back felt at once comforting and confining.

  As soon we sat, he grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. My eyes grew wide and I quickly tried to pull my hand away, but that only made him tighten his grip. Again I pulled and once again his fingers tightened. It was like getting caught in one of those Chinese finger traps you get at cheap arcades. Anyone looking on would think we were just two lovers holding hands, but I knew there was nothing romantic intended; Ryan had tethered me to him as surely as if he had locked handcuffs onto both our wrists. His smug smile made me want to fight. I wasn’t as weak as he seemed to assume. On the other hand, any action I took would cause a scene and my mission would be over before it began. I sighed and let my hand go limp.

  It wasn’t until we transferred trains in Gare de Lyon that I realized Caraday had booked a private compartment for the overnight trip to Varese.

  Ryan grinned like a little kid. He plopped down on one bench seat and stretched out his legs, resting his feet on the opposite bench. “Perfect.” He tucked his hands behind his head. “Maybe we can catch a few Z’s on the way.”

  That left me with no other option than to take the seat next to Ryan.

  Suddenly, I didn’t know what to
do with myself. I folded and unfolded my hands in my lap, crossed and uncrossed my legs. Finally, I hugged my arms and stared out the window—anything to avoid looking him in the face. Several hours of awkwardness alone in a dark, enclosed space with Ryan was not exactly what I had in mind when I signed up for the assignment. I would have preferred to make the ride alone.

  He must have misinterpreted my unease because he reached across the empty space between us and placed his hand on my knee. “You okay with this?”

  I stared at his hand, a wave of heat spreading across my face. “What do you mean?”

  “What they’re having you do. You can still back out, you know.”

  “Oh.” I dragged my eyes away from his hand on my knee and searched his face. Was he saying I was a coward? “I won’t back out.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “You understand why I have to do this, then.”

  He cocked his head and gave me a solemn once-over. “Yeah. ’Cause you’re your mother’s daughter.”

  I frowned, hugging my arms even tighter.

  “What? You don’t think so?”

  I shrugged. “I know I’m her daughter.”

  “But?”

  “But I’m not sure what that means.”

  “It means that this is in your blood.”

  “This what? What are you talking about?”

  Ryan spread his hands. “This. The life. You can’t leave well enough alone. You have to know what makes things tick … and then you have to do something about it. Just like your mom.”

  I wanted to deny what he was saying was true, but it had been my inability to leave well enough alone that got me mixed up with the Mulos in the first place, and I’m sure Ryan knew that. He probably had a file on me somewhere if he was supposed to be my bodyguard or whatever. He would know that when the Mulos came to our island, I couldn’t rest until I discovered who they really were and what they were up to. And by the time I found that out, I was neck deep in intrigue and it was impossible to walk away.

  “Is it in your blood?” I asked.

  He grinned, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Hell, yeah.”

  I latched on to his enthusiasm, hoping to steer the conversation away from me. “Runs in your family?”

  His smile faltered. “Yes,” he said after a moment, “yes, it does.”

  I realized that I must have struck a nerve, but I didn’t know what I should do about it—stay clear or keep pressing. I didn’t have to decide, though, because he took the initiative. “It’s not always black and white,” he said. “Sometimes you can pursue one dream only at the expense of another.”

  “I’m not sure I—”

  “Your mom is fiercely proud of you, Aphra. She must have really trusted that you were ready to find your way, or she wouldn’t have let the job’s call take over.”

  I blinked. How had he done that? He switched from his nerve to mine so smoothly I never saw it coming. Well, I wasn’t going to play into his hands. I steered back into safe territory.

  “Why did you follow me to Paris?” I asked.

  He didn’t hesitate. “To keep an eye on you.”

  “So you didn’t trust my mom to keep me safe?”

  “Listen, Aphra.” His voice grew serious. “When that ring of Mulo’s revealed the list of The Mole’s associates, we were able to capture most of them. But a handful, including The Mole, just went further underground. Until we can account for every name on that list, you are my responsibility.”

  That was sobering enough to keep me quiet for a moment, but then I had to ask, “So you don’t think what I’m doing, going to Varese and all, is dangerous?”

  “On the contrary. I think it’s very dangerous. That’s why I’m riding along.”

  “Oh.” I let that sink in for a moment, but it didn’t compute. “So you’re supposed to be protecting me, but you don’t mind if I do something that might get me hurt.”

  “Oh, I mind,” Ryan said. “But I wasn’t joking when I told you I thought you’d be an asset to the Agency. You need to have the experience of an op to see what it’s all about.” He grinned again. “Then you’ll be hooked.”

  I gave him half a nod. What he didn’t understand was a lot. He really thought it was going to help me to think that my mom was willing to leave me and my dad because being an agent was just too thrilling to give up? Maybe that was his incentive for sticking with it, but I would never believe it was hers. I couldn’t.

  I turned from him and closed my eyes. His words chanted in my head with the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks: You’ll be hooked, you’ll be hooked, you’ll be hooked. No, he didn’t understand me at all.

  I woke sometime after midnight. The sway of the train had changed; we were slowing down. With a jolt I realized I was leaning against Ryan’s shoulder and I quickly sat up. “Are we there?”

  “No. We’ve only just crossed the border.”

  “Maybe they need to check our passports.”

  “They don’t do that within the EU. Once you’re in, you can travel anywhere.” He checked his watch and peered out the window. “We shouldn’t be stopping. Sit still. I’m going to check and see what has happened.”

  Ryan ducked out into the aisle and I rushed to the doorway to watch him go. At the end of the car, a man in a conductor uniform stood talking on a two-way radio and gesturing wildly with his free hand. Ryan didn’t even talk to the guy; he just stood there and listened, and then he came back to report to me. He ushered me back inside the compartment.

  “You’re not going to believe this; the train ahead of us hit a cow and several cars derailed.”

  “No way. A cow?”

  “That’s what the man said. Line’s closed from here to Omegna until they can clear it off.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Emergency crews have been summoned, he says, but no telling how long it will be until they arrive.”

  “So what do we do?” I tried to sound calm, but inside the panic was rising again. The whole operation could be thrown off if I wasn’t on my mark by morning. Caraday had said that The Mole hadn’t found the Mulos yet, but I didn’t doubt that he would, and that he would hurt Seth’s family if I wasn’t there as the sacrificial lamb.

  “First thing we do is clear the train. They’re ordering everyone off.”

  There was nothing to be done but to join the rest of the grumbling passengers in our car filing down the narrow aisle and out the door. A uniformed train worker stood on the platform, directing people into the station. If his haggard face and drooping posture were any indication, he was as tired as we were and just as irritated by the inconvenience.

  Apparently, the station itself was not prepared to accommodate travelers in the middle of the night. The lights were on, but nothing was open—not the ticket booths or the stationmaster’s office or any of the small shops that lined the perimeter. The only place to go was into a small lobby area, where there weren’t nearly enough chairs for everyone to sit.

  I wasn’t worried about the seating arrangements, though. I kept glancing at the huge round clock on the far wall, calculating and recalculating how much time we had left before showtime. Impatience buzzed through me. I paced. The room was too small, too crowded. I was suffocating. And I had to get to Varese.

  Ryan wandered over to the ticket counter and grabbed a train schedule printout. He brought it over to me and we scanned it together, looking for an alternate route or some other alternative that would get us to Varese on time.

  And then I smelled it. The strange sour stench I noticed every time I caught the Marlboro Man following me. My heart lodged in my chest like a chunk of ice. I turned slowly, scanning the crowd. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there.

  I grabbed Ryan’s hand. “We need to get out of here,” I hissed. “Now.”

  He leaned close, a sleepy smile on his lips, but I saw the way his eyes became sharp, alert. “What is it?” he whispered.

  I didn’t have
time for explanations. “We need to go,” I insisted.

  To his credit, Ryan didn’t press me again, but quickly steered me toward the tall wooden doors at the front of the station. I don’t know what made me turn my head. Premonition, maybe? All I know is that just as I reached for the metal bar handle of the door, I felt an uncomfortable tingle at the back of my neck and glanced behind me.

  The room went black—or so it seemed. All I could see for that awful moment was the angry face of the Marlboro Man as he fixed his cold eyes on me. Ryan must have noticed him, too, because he tightened his grip on my hand and yanked me with him as he pushed through the door and out into the night. It didn’t occur to me at the time to wonder if Ryan recognized the man or why he would have been alarmed to see him.

  Ryan slowed for a heartbeat as he turned his head left and then right, assessing the escape routes, I figured, since he pulled me to the right and down a short flight of stone steps and into the shadows. Behind us, I heard the door bang open again. I didn’t have to look back to know it would be Marlboro Man, but looking was the immediate reaction to the banging door. Sure enough, it was him. And he was carrying a gun. Suddenly, my back felt like an open target. It spurred me to run even faster, to push my stride longer to keep up with Ryan so I wouldn’t slow him down.

  Ahead to one side lay a huge open field, backed by a deep stand of trees. On the other side, a two-lane road wound down a hill, presumably into the town, lit at regular intervals by the soft glow of streetlights and fading away into the gathering mist. Either route would leave us vulnerable, exposed, but at least the field was cloaked in darkness, and if we made it across the field alive, we might be able to hide in the trees. I pulled on Ryan’s hand this time, veering into the field. He adjusted his course without question. I wondered if it was because he trusted my instincts or because he had the same idea himself.

  We bounded through the field, high-stepping over the rows of some kind of vining crop. Weak moonlight skittered ahead of us, along straight, narrow rows of stubby vegetation that caught on our feet and threatened to trip us if we weren’t careful where we stepped. By the time we were halfway across the field, my muscles felt like burning rubber, and my chest was a hot, tight vise, forbidding me to catch my breath.