by T. J. Mines
While he waits he sees couples of guards patrolling the streets, looking at all the men they spot. One of them, Hank, looks Ismael straight in the eyes. Ismael thinks Hank recognized him, but the couple walks on. Ismael lets out a sigh of relief. Long after the day shift ended Meryam exits the building. She's walking hand in hand with a man Ismael never saw before. He looks southern with a sun browned skin and dark features. They are chatting away while they walk in the direction of the entertainment quarter. Ismael follows them from a distance.
In the restaurant section of the entertainment quarter they enter a side street and go into a small noodle shop. Ismael follows them but stops just shy of the shop's windows. He peaks inside. The place is empty except for his sister and the man she's with. There is an elderly man with a white stained apron approaching them. They order and the man walks away. Ismael checks both sides of the street. It's empty. He opens the door and enters the shop.
"Hey you!" he says and grabs a chair to join Meryam and her friend. He puts it down and takes a seat.
"Ismael?" Meryam asks, "what're you doing here?"
"Grabbing dinner, did you forgot you asked me?" Ismael gives Meryam a stern look. She raises her eyebrows in question. He shakes his head and indicates outside by tilting his head towards the door. Meryam frowns but nods once.
"Oh yes!" Meryam says, trying to act normal, "I totally forgot. How stupid of me."
Abdul looks at his girlfriend and the men who just joined them.
"Who are you?" Abdul asks.
"Oh yes!" Ismael says, "I'm Meryam's brother. And you are?"
"Ish," Meryam says smiling at Abdul, "this is my boyfriend Abdul."
"Boyfriend?" Ismael says. He never heard of this guy before. This isn't like Meryam.
"Yes, we met at work." Meryam places her hand on Abdul's.
"Nice to meet you," Abdul says, "if I'd known you'd join I'd have chosen another restaurant."
"Oh, this one is fine by me," Ismael says, "Nice and quiet."
"But how did you know…" Abdul starts.
"Meryam told me," Ismael interrupts, "she gave me the address this morning."
"This morning?" Abdul looks at Meryam.
"Yes Abdul," she says, "this morning."
"But," Abdul starts again. Meryam stops him by squeezing his hand hard.
"Let's have dinner and tell me all about yourself," Ismael says.
They eat and talk for a while. Ismael is skittish the whole time, making Abdul and Meryam more uncomfortable than they already were upon his arrival. Abdul does share a bit of himself and Ismael tries the same. But every time a customer walks in or someone passes the restaurant, Ismael cringes.
After they paid for dinner and drinks they all stand up.
"So," Abdul says, "Nice to meet you Ismael."
"Yeah," Ismael says, "likewise."
Ismael walks to the window, almost knocking over the table next to them, and looks outside to check for patrols. He sees nothing suspicious and puts his hood up again. It's been a full 6 hours since his arrest was ordered and they should be getting desperate to find him now. He doesn't know how to keep away from capture. Her sisters boyfriend doesn't make it easier to talk private with Meryam.
They exit the restaurant and walk towards the main street. At the crossing Ismael sees a doorway set back in the wall and drags Meryam with him into hiding.
"Sis, I need your help," Ismael starts.
"No shit!" Meryam looks furious, "What in hell are you doing? I was just planning on a quiet dinner with Abdul, ALONE, and enjoy our limited time together. But here you are, butting your head into my business and acting all weird."
"About that," Ismael says, "I've been framed."
"Framed?" Meryam doesn't know what to say.
"Yes, framed," Ismael continues, "Quint Seif, you know him, he's behind the Al Bari assault. He's been a spy for them. At least I think he is. After we got the notion the Captain issued an order to arrest me."
"So why not turn yourself in?"
"Because I'll be put on public trial."
"What?" Meryam has seen a few public trials in her life, and none turned out well for the accused. "What are they charging you of?"
"Treason."
Meryam nods.
"What do you need?" she asks.
From the entrance to the side street with the restaurant Abdul waves to the throng in the main street and calls out. Ismael ducks behind Meryam. A lady emerges from the main street and greets Abdul.
"Hi Jo-Ann," Abdul says, "What's up?"
"Nothing much," Jo-Ann replies, "why are you standing here?"
"I'm waiting for my girlfriend's brother to leave us alone."
"You have a girlfriend?" Jo-Ann asks, smiling.
"Yes, we met at the farm. Her name is Meryam. I'll introduce you when she's done with her brother over there."
Jo-Ann's smile falters.
"Are you dating Meryam Abadi?" she asks.
"Yes," Abdul confirms, "do you know her?"
Jo-Ann doesn't answer. She rushes past Abdul and Meryam to grab Ismael and push him hard against the door. He's too slow to react.
"You don't know me, but I know what happened," Jo-Ann says before either brother or sister can complain, "You need to get out of sight. I can hide you."
Ismael tries to push Jo-Ann away, but she's strong.
"Let go of me!" he says.
"I'm from the London Underground," Jo-Ann says, "I'm here to kill Quint Seif."
"You are?" Ismael can't believe what she's saying. The members of the London Underground are not the types you run into like this. They don't announce themselves unless they know you're going to be their next target. Ismael is not ready to die. That's the whole point of him running from the guards. So he's not going to let this girl do it for them.
"Stop struggling!" Jo-Ann says, "Listen, I know it's hard to believe but I'm about the only one you can trust right now. If you come with me we can stop Seif from ruling Du Bois and have it taken over by Al Bari."
That stops Ismael. He thinks about it. If she's telling the truth she could've killed him within seconds being this close. If she's not, he can handle her on his own with a bit more room to move his limbs. So he stops trying to break free. She lets go of him and steps back.
"Meryam, Abdul," Jo-Ann says, "you two go on with your evening. Don't say a word about what you've heard and tell no one you've seen Ismael. Oh, and enjoy the free time you have right now. Things are probably getting worse from now on."
"What do you mean by that?" Meryam asks.
"You'll see. But with luck we can keep it at a minimum."
"Right, you take care of my brother. I'd like to see him alive again."
"If I can help it he will be safe." Jo-Ann puts a hand on Meryam's shoulder and shares a look of understanding.
Abdul and Meryam walk away. They don't look back but their body language betrays their unease. Jo-Ann turns back to Ismael. He is dressed in a white sweater with a hood. Underneath she can see his normal guard outfit. That won't do. They need to disguise him. She looks around. Further down the side street is a restaurant. The staff there must have a locker room with clothes for him to wear.
"We need to change your clothes," Jo-Ann states.
"I know," Ismael says, "I tried with what I could find but it's too thin. I guess I've been recognized at least once already."
"Lucky you they were friends."
"I guess," Ismael shakes his head, "why did it have to come to this?"
"Let's worry about that later," Jo-Ann takes his hand, "come."
She drags him to the restaurant Ismael was earlier. He stops her just shy of the entrance.
"We've had dinner here just minutes ago," he says, "it would be strange for me to walk in again with another woman."
"It's a risk we have to take," Jo-Ann decides.
Ismael thinks a moment.
"Let's go straight to the back where the toilets are," he says, "there is a staircase up to the apartment ab
ove. I think we can find some clothes there for me. They'll be tight, the owner is a scrawny fellow."
"Go then," Jo-Ann says as she opens the door and drags him with her. As they walk through the restaurant the owner looks at Ismael. After a moment he averts his eyes and continues his work, unwilling to get tangled in the mess Ismael could be in. They go up the stairs where they find a vestibule with a jacket and boots. A door opens into the small apartment. The furnishings reflect the age of the old man downstairs. The closet of clothes does the same. Ismael rummages through the old fashioned garments to find something suitable while Jo-Ann stands watch at the windows looking over the street. The restaurant owner knows they're up here and could warn the guards of their presence. But so far there's no danger.
Ismael turns his back to Jo-Ann as he takes off his guard uniform. He folds his clothes and puts them in the closet for the man living here to keep. He doesn't want to steal, so this feels like an equal exchange. He strips down to his underwear. Behind him he hears Jo-Ann snicker.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing," Jo-Ann answers.
"You're laughing at me."
"You bet I am! Look at how you turn from me. Are you embarrassed?"
"No," Ismael says, "It's just that I don't know you and don't know your customs."
"Oh, so you're courteous!" Jo-Ann laughs, "Right. Good for you."
"No, really!"
"I believe you," Jo-Ann says, "for the record, I've seen many a man naked in my life so you're not making me unconfortable."
Ismael, wearing old man's pants now, turns around. Jo-Ann looks at him, letting down her guard. She purses her lips.
"None too shabby," she says.
"What's that?" Ismael asks while he puts on a shirt.
"Nothing," Jo-Ann says. She gives him a wink and turns back to monitoring the street below.
They exit the restaurant together. Ismael is now dressed in brown loose pants and a gray t-shirt. He's wearing a long overcoat in which he stuffed his gear. The fit is far from perfect, accentuating the look he's going for. He put on the old man's cap, shielding his face, for good measure.
From a distance the two look like he's just arranged for an escort. Jo-Ann in her shiny black tight jacket, skin tight leggings and high heels fits the description. To complete her look she redid her make-up and hair before they left. She looks the part.
As they come up to the main street through the restaurant district they see small gatherings of guards all over. They're scanning the crowds. With all the security in sight the locals sense something is wrong. They look over their shoulder and talk in hushed voices. Their step is a bit quicker than normal. The tourists don't seem to notice anything. A group of Al Bari business men stand in the middle of the street, boasting about who drank the most last night and how they'll better their friends this night. They seem to be well inebriated already.
The act Jo-Ann and Ismael preform is working. A few times one or more guards scan them and dismiss the old pervert with his mistress. Still, Jo-Ann doesn't relax and neither does Ismael. She guides him through Du Bois' restaurant and entertainment districts. Then on to the hotel district. They near the hotel Jo-Ann is in, one of the more expensive venues in town. The security on the streets lessen. The private security seems to handle it well enough on their own.
Jo-Ann is residing in a hotel that values discreteness over budget. The hotel has a long standing agreement with the London Underground to house their people send on mission to Du Bois. She walks around to the back with Ismael. There she keys in a code next to a door. It opens and lights turn on inside. She ushers Ismael inside and follows, closing the door behind her.
"It's upstairs, six flights," Jo-Ann instructs Ismael. He starts ascending the stairs.
"Six flights?" he asks, "but that's above ground."
"So?" Jo-Ann responds.
"So? You must be rich!"
Jo-Ann laughs.
"I'm not exactly rich," she says, "but the London Underground has no shortage of funds, or useful connections for that matter."
"You're really from the London Underground?"
"Yes, I told you already. Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Because if you are, you wouldn't say so," Ismael says as he looks over his shoulder.
"Sometimes the situation means breaking the rules," Jo-Ann says as she gives him a small push in the back to make him continue walking.
"So you broke the rules," Ismael says, "For me?"
"For the situation you're in," Jo-Ann clarifies, "one more floor and we'll talk."
Jo-Ann opens the door to her hotel room. She walks in and opens her jacket. She throws it on the crisp white covers of her king sized bed. Ismael is stunned by the size and luxury of the room. Next to the bed it's furnished with a desk and wheeled chair, a reading corner with a lounge chair and a love seat. The door to the bathroom has a gilded knob. The sheer size of it all feels awkward for him.
Meanwhile, Jo-Ann walks around the room dropping her stuff all over the place. He sees her jacket on the bed, one shoe next to it and the other is kicked under the desk. Now standing at the desk she puts her leg onto the chair and rolls up her legging to reveal two throwing knives in a strap. She puts them on the desk. Next she undoes the buttons of her blouse. Ismael notices her breasts for the first time. Under the sheer blue fabric is a black lace brazier, with a gun tucked in it. She takes the small caliber weapon from it's holster and places it next to the knives. She turns to Ismael.
"Not so shy anymore, aren't you?" she says.
Ismael blushes bright red and looks away.
"Well," he tries to say, but can't think of anything else.
"Don't you think I'm pretty?" Jo-Ann asks.
Ismael looks back at her and takes a long moment to see what's in front of him. He doesn't like the pale skin he now sees. The line where her make-up stops makes her look artificial. He feels tricked. But the shape of her is flawless. Her breasts, before mushed into her tight jacket, are now free to fill the bra. They don't even overspill the top, which he sees a lot with the older, bustier, ladies at the market. Below her breasts is a well toned stomach. He belly button is a nice shape and the two lines formed by her muscle definition make her look fit. Her legs are stunning. Her calves must've taken a lot of working out to get that shape. He tries to look at her ass, but walking around would be too awkward.
"Are you done?" Jo-Ann says with a frown.
"Yes, but no," Ismael says, "you don't look pretty."
"I don't?" Jo-Ann looks hurt. Her frown deepens, making the first attempt seem like a jest.
"No, you don't," Ismael continues, "I wouldn't call you pretty because that wouldn't do you justice. I'd call you beautiful, shapely or stunning. But not pretty."
Jo-Ann bursts out laughing, slapping her thigh in the process. Ismael doesn't know what happened and waits for her to stop, which takes a few moments.
"Thanks, Ismael," Jo-Ann says wiping away a tear, "that's very honest of you."
She turns around and walks to a sliding door. She opens it to reveal a host of dresses and other garments. She takes out a sweater and puts it on. Ismael checks out her ass and likes what he sees. The movement of her muscles when putting on the sweater looks interesting. He nods to himself as if to praise her internally and walks over to the love seat.
"Let's talk about why we're here," he says and sits down.
Jo-Ann joins him and takes the lounge chair.
"Right," she starts, "so, you've been marked as the spy who told Al Bari about the underground garage and how to use it to compromise our walls."
"I know that," Ismael says, "or at least I gathered as much from what Xabier told me. I've guessed Seif was behind it. You confirmed it when you tackled me in the street."
"I didn't tackle you, I prevented you from fleeing and making an ass of yourself."
"Semantics," Ismael says.
"But yes," Jo-Ann confirms, "Seif is behind the warrant for arrest. He is also behind the leak to Al
Bari about Du Bois."
"That, I figured out too. He hacked Xabier's devices and found out I was on his trail."
"But what you probably don't know is that Seif has been leaking information to Al Bari for years. He's been send here by the Al Bari warlord to take over Du Bois. His whole time here he's been working towards becoming a council member and now he's on the final track of becoming mayor."
"How do you know that?" Ismael asks.
"He's come to our attention when he started campaigning for mayor last year. We thought it strange that an Al Bari man would be up for a position like that so we looked into his past and present actions. When we thought to know what he was planning we decided to stop him."
"And so they send you."
"No," Jo-Ann shakes her head, "they send Trend and Jones."
"And where are they?"
"Dead, or presumed dead."
"I'm sorry," Ismael says and leans forward to put his hand on hers in comfort.
"I'm not," Jo-Ann says, stopping Ismael in his motion forward, his hand hanging in the air.
"I'm really not sorry," Jo-Ann clarifies, "they were send on a mission which they didn't finish. Now I'm here to do it for them and if I fail someone else will come. Unless he wins and we can't get anyone in anymore."
Ismael sits back in his seat.
"I understand, I think," he says, "so here we are. Me, hiding from the men that I called friends just hours ago and you, an assassin trying to kill a council member I swore to protect."
"I know," Jo-Ann nods, "It sounds like a movie or something."
Ismael laughs and shakes his head.
"Now what," he says, "you're the clever London Underground girl who knows best."
"Now we go kill Seif."
CHAPTER NINE
Quint is sitting in his office at home. His phone rings. It's Senior, his butler.
"Sir," Senior says, "there's a contingency of the guards at the door."
"What do they want?" Quint asks.
