Counterfeit Conspiracies

by Ritter Ames

  We stood in the check-in area, travelers around us taking chairs, wheeling luggage, or standing against the beige columns waiting for their turn. I scanned the overhead lighted signs, checking how far away I was from my designated platform. I found an attendant and a kiosk, gave my code to get a ticket, and check-in was easy. Passport at the ready whenever I needed, ticket in place, Prada looped around my neck, and a shopping bag in each hand, I was ready for boarding.

  "Platform ten, according to the attendant." I raised one shopping bag to point. "This way."

  Cassie grasped the handle of the bag in my left fist. "Let me carry this one. I feel silly with empty hands while yours are full.

  "Okay, but the escalator isn't that far."

  "It will make me feel useful."

  I squeezed her forearm. "You are most definitely useful."

  Cassie and I matched the pace of the rest of the crowd as we headed for the correct escalator and platform, fighting our desires to run and to hide. We semi-attached ourselves to groups heading in the right direction, branching off and joining others when necessary, all to make our bodies appear less conspicuous to the probing cameras. I pulled the bill of the cap down a smidge closer to my brow.

  We stopped at the bottom of the moving stairs. Enough passengers were already mingling that I felt comfortable saying goodbye to Cassie and getting her out of the station. If anyone was going to come after me now, I wanted her far away from any scuffle.

  "But I can stay with you." She wore her stubborn face, a bit of a pout and a lot of steel around the eyes. I knew that look well from college. She may have been a year behind me, but this look meant she was going to try to pull rank anyway.

  "Cassie, you've been a godsend tonight." I set the shopping bags on the ground and gave her a hug. "I could have never gotten here without you and with all my stuff. But you have to work tomorrow. You're trying to get on full-time at the V and A remember, and sleepy interns do not impress bosses."

  She shrugged, then craned her neck to review the waiting passengers. "I can't believe this many people travel in the middle of the night."

  "I'm just grateful they do. It's never fun to be the only person on a red-eye flight or train run."

  "More importantly, there's safety in numbers," she said, turning to stare me straight in the eyes. "Be sure to get in the busiest car, and sit near a bunch of people."

  "Yes, Mom," I said, striving for levity.

  The edges of Cassie's lips turned downward. "This isn't funny, Laurel."

  "I'm sorry." I brushed her shoulder with a hand. "I'll be careful, I promise. But your concern for me cannot overweigh what I feel about your safety either. I want you to head straight home. Right now. And text me when you get there. I may not have good phone coverage on the train, but I will receive texts."

  "Okay. Should we have code words?"

  I would have made a joke about Get Smart or Austin Powers, but I could tell by the set of her jaw she needed me to keep things serious. "Not a bad idea. If you need help, call nine-nine-nine, of course, but text me the name of your first pet."

  "Snowball. He was a bunny."

  Of course he was.

  "Snowball it is. And mine was a German shepherd named Bruno."

  "Really? How old were you?"

  I thought back to that wonderful dog, twice my size and as loveable as he was huge. He'd been trained as a guard dog, and my grandfather brought him into our household after a spate of kidnappings ran through our family's financial circle. The pain I felt as a fourteen-year-old when we had to put Bruno down for arthritis was still too close to contemplate. Arthritis aggravated by a bullet he took once while pushing me out of harm's way. Even after all the intervening years I could see the dark concern for me that showed in his eyes as he performed the act out of both love and duty. Grandfather hired a physical therapist trained to treat canines to get him back on his feet. It gave us a few extra years with him, but a few is never enough. "I was five when Grandfather brought him to me."

  "A puppy?"

  "No, full-grown. He went everywhere with me." My eyes focused on the near distance, and I could almost see Bruno standing guard, watching out for me even still.

  So intense was the memory, I barely heard Cassie say, "What a wonderful companion. Did you always have German shepherds, or did you get another breed for a pet, too?"

  The pressure in my eyes built quickly. I was too tired for this kind of emotion. "I never had another dog. Grandfather died soon after Bruno, and life got too complicated to try to bring a new pet into my life."

  Above, the squeal of a train pulling in saved me. Passengers shuffled more quickly in anticipation of their own boarding.

  "That's my cue, Cass," I said. "Gotta go. But I really do thank you for all your help today."

  "No problem," she said, wringing her hands as she spoke. "Are you sure you're going to have enough room for everything onboard? I wish you could check your bags so you don't have to keep an eye on them, too. Will shopping bags work? Maybe I should have packed everything into one of my suitcases."

  "Nico has me in business class." I retrieved the second bag from her, after unwrapping the handle from her clinging fingers, and accepted a goodbye hug. "I'll find a place to put them in the racks over my seat. No worries. Plus, I'll have no problem getting a power port to charge my phone."

  "I should have done that while I had the cell."

  "Cassie, you've gone above and beyond, believe me." I pressed my thumb to the center of her forehead. "Remember what it means when we do this?"

  She rubbed her fingers on the skin. "One of our invisible gold stars from college."

  "Right. Now accept your reward, and no more 'I should haves' from you."

  Another quick hug and we went our separate ways; me heading upward for the platform and Cassie, I hoped, grabbing a cab outside. I'm not normally leery of subways, but after being almost trapped by Weasel and Werewolf I wanted to make sure Cassie didn't risk suffering the same dilemma. She might not have a Jeremy nearby, whose foot she could trounce as a diversion.

  By daylight, the St. Pancras platforms always made me feel like I was in a gorgeous giant birdcage, as the sky poured in through the never-ending skylights. By night, the fluorescents do their job, with the light reflecting back from the heavenly glass above.

  Lit signs in English and French directed me to the area forming the queue for my train's business class. The timing could not have been closer. Within minutes, my Eurostar was shushing into view.

  All bright and light, interior brown upholstery and brushed aluminum trim, I carefully chose one of the comfortable reclining seats in the back corner and grabbed a complementary English paper. I took a window. Yes, I was boxing myself in, but while the aisle seat offered quick exit out the door, it also afforded anyone coming from either direction a clear shot at seeing me. The business class car wasn't even half-full, so both shopping bags went into the seat beside me. Again, another barrier to my exit, but also a second visual stop before anyone looked at me. There was ample space above, but closing off access to the connecting seat not only meant I could keep an arm looped through the bag handles at all times, but dissuaded casual camaraderie from other passengers.

  Doors closed, and the speaker came on with instructions and information relayed in a lovely Parisian accent. Even the English words sounded beautiful. I pulled out lip balm and swabbed my lips to fight the drying air in the car. Right on time, the train eased out of St. Pancras and headed for Paris. Above ground now, we made out way past a couple of public estate complexes, and through miles of train cars waiting their turn for departure. Streetlights lit the area, but encroaching trees masked neighborhoods, giving most houses the allusion of privacy.

  In a blink, I'd plugged in my phone. Normally I would have used the device to watch a movie to cover the length of the journey, but I didn't have the interest or the attention span at that point. Simon's laptop was tempting, just to see if I could get a heads-up on anything, but Nico would
do a much better job of unearthing its secrets than I, so the machine stayed safe and buried until I could pass it on. He said he was bringing a new toy. This way I'd be able to offer one in return.

  I took a moment to lower the lens of my glasses, and improve my vision to scan my fellow passengers. No one seemed especially keen on watching me, no quick movements when I glanced a different way, so all seemed safe for the moment. I kept the cap pulled low, daring CCTV to peek through my subterfuge. I tried not to make eye contact anyway. I wanted this to be an opportunity to rest, not chitchat with someone who spent the whole trip marveling at all the people who travel in the wee hours of the morning, and wanted my full Curriculum Vitae in the process so they had a reason to impress me with theirs.

  A rummage through my Prada unearthed a couple of luggage tags I used to close the bags at the handles, and provide identification. From past experience I knew Eurostar got snarky when you didn't have names on everything, and if my stuff ended up in overhead storage, the bags definitely needed a means of getting tagged back to me. Yes, my Prada was a treasure trove of unexpected necessities, but traveling as much as I did meant I picked up emergency luggage tags like Post-It notes, so having two available was no great surprise. I've even used Beacham business cards before in a crunch, but didn't want to do so while attempting to dance through incognito on this journey.

  I worried over whether my picture would be one flashed at all security checkpoints. Until I knew how much clout Jack truly had, it was important to plan for the worst and hope for something better. At least I could pick my seat. The Eurostar cattle car option annoyed many, but I found not having a designated seat was a great way to make sure I monitored who sat next to me, and who did not. Of course, I didn't have to travel with children either.

  By the time we cleared London's environs we were thundering along at just under one-hundred-ninety miles per hour. This little informational tidbit came via the nice French-accented attendant who wanted to know if I needed anything—I didn't. The train stopped at Ebbsfleet International to take on more passengers, but still no Nico. Again at Ashford, strangers boarded, but not my friend. I remembered both places from coverage during the London Olympics, since the sports venues were spaced so far apart. Surely, Nico hadn't missed his own train after reading me the riot act about the itinerary.

  The man in the aisle seat across had an app on his phone that told how fast we were going, and constantly told his seatmate the current speed. I hoped the toy Nico promised was more interesting than that guy's. Sheesh! Finally, one of the blokes in the row ahead of him said, "Will you bloody well shut up about the train speed, mate?"

  A man after my own heart.

  My interested porter returned to inform me the train would soon be rolling through the fields of Kent. Unfortunately, we'd see nothing of the landscape at this hour.

  When he offered to bring me a juice, I acquiesced. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was until he mentioned it.

  The plan had called for breakfasting in Paris before grabbing up the rental car Nico promised for the next leg of the journey. I wasn't sure how he accomplished it all, but I hoped not to be anywhere near Max when our boss got the next credit card billing.

  My personal Eurostar attendant returned with my juice and explained where the train's bar/buffet was in case he wasn't around when I needed something. I was pretty sure he was giving me special privileges, since I didn't have any breakfast service on this trip.

  After a few more words of small talk, he glanced at my cap and touched his own. "From Chicago?" he asked in his lovely accented English.

  "It's a friend's."

  He smiled, nodded, then slipped out the back door. The paranoia in me rose again, wondering if he was reporting on the American blonde who wore her hair up in a Cubbies cap. Maybe I should have let someone sit beside me so I wouldn't stand out, and look like I was traveling with a friend.

  Speaking of friends, where was Nico? I expected to see him before I boarded, and now we were already en route. I hadn't seen a sign of him in the station or on the train. I checked my phone, but the only text was from Max, and I was ignoring that one.

  To tamp down the concern, I hit a few keystrokes to send a "Where are you?" alert to Nico's number. I hoped he'd answer soon. My nerves were stretched enough.

  A second later, I got a text from Cassie saying she was safe in her flat. Well, I could strike off one worry at least.

  We hit the Chunnel and rode underground in darkness for just under half an hour, but the cabin stayed bright and light. The trip always amazed me, especially when we reached the other end, since it meant we'd gone from London to France in less than an hour.

  I dropped off asleep at some point, and woke when the loudspeaker greeted us on arrival in Paris, first spoken in French, then English, and thanked us for traveling with Eurostar. I remembered the words of the medical tech, how he'd told me to have someone along to wake me throughout the night. Thank goodness I hadn't taken his advice, since what little sleep I had accomplished was well worth the risk.

  For just a second, I wondered where Jack was, and whether he had someone to wake him.

  The multi-storied glass façade of the Gare du Nord was a welcome sight, and our train slid into one of Eurostar's upper story platforms. The business car passengers rose as a group. I waited until everyone else departed before moving into the little hallway that led to the exit. The platform was not as airy as St. Pancras but visitor-friendly just the same.

  Signs noted taxis to my left and the Metro to my right.

  I stayed with the crowd, but kept distance between myself and others, while the cap rode low over my eyes. Since there were stairs in my near future, I slipped off Cassie's reading glasses and put them in the Prada. No point in risking a broken neck. I walked with the shopping bags held loosely at each side just in case I needed to move one way or the other in a hurry. So, I was ready when a hand grasped my shoulder from behind.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Anger and adrenalin pumped through my body, and instinct took over. I stuck out my foot, tightened the grip on my cargo and twirled, breaking my attacker's hold with the pivot and catching his mid-section with a roundhouse kick. The guy's backpack threw him off-center, and helped complete his quick trip to the ground. Best of all, everything I carried stayed safely in the shopping bags. Not one item spilled. Even my Prada hardly swayed.

  Then I got a good look at my attacker. His curly black hair. His angry dark eyes.

  "Oops. Sorry, Nico." I crouched down and pulled him into a hug, supporting his shoulders as he doubled over and moaned. It's amazing how rage dissipates almost immediately when the person you've been looking for suddenly becomes the one you hurt. "I was beginning to really worry about you."

  He smirked. "I can tell."

  "Well, you did say you were going to make the trip with me. When you didn't show my angst increased." I shrugged, and moved the shopping bags into one hand so I could help him get back to his feet. "Besides, you should be grateful for small favors. I could have slammed you in the groin."

  "Yes, all those small favors." He rolled his expressive eyes at me as I got him by the arm and hustled us toward the staircase.

  Just like at St. Pancras, the Gare du Nord banishes shadows through use of skylights, in addition to all the wonderful window walls on the outside of the structure. From previous trips, I knew the rental car companies operated from the area located right below the Eurostar arrival zone.

  "I assume picking up the rental car is our next destination," I said as my feet hit the next floor. "But I don't suppose we could squeeze breakfast in first."

  "If you prefer train station food, that is entirely possible."

  "It would give us the chance to exchange our gifts to one another."

  Nico stopped and turned toward me, raising both dark brows as he said, "I don't want another gift like the one you just gave me."

  "Nah." I waved my hand. "My kicks come as a bonus."

  He laughed,
and propelled me toward the bistro area. "Then by all means. Let us find some croissants and a café for each of us."

  Ah, coffee. My drug of choice.

  We soon had our own outside table in weak Parisian sunshine. We scooted the chairs close enough to gain privacy as we talked and both ordered the same thing, petit déjeuner français. The croissant was flaky, the juice the best second jus d'orange of the day, and my cup of Americano hot and highly caffeinated. I reveled in my food. Horns sounded in the street, and a stiffening breeze kept the morning crisp. Leaves fell with a sigh, people hurried by us, and I luxuriated in the ability to relax for just a moment.

  "That hit the spot," I said. "Should hold me for a couple of hours."

  Nico twisted to reach the backpack hanging on the other chair and looked inside for a few seconds. His hand came out with a flourish, and he grinned when he put something unexpected in my hand.

  "Glasses?" Not even attractive ones at that. They kind of looked like safety glasses without a bottom rim. And there was a funky second window in the top of the right lens. I noticed the earpieces were wider than normal, as wide as the plastic rim across the top of the frames.

  Nico opened the earpieces and slipped the glasses on my face. "Be impressed. These are prototypes. With a few modifications I added, of course. Have you heard of Google glasses?"

  "They aren't on sale yet."

  He grinned, leaning close to whisper, "Hence my opener about these being prototypes."

  "What can they do besides make me look a little nerdy?"

  "Prepare to be impressed."

  Step by step, Nico showed me the capabilities of the glasses. How I could unobtrusively shoot video while peering through the lenses. Why the tiny square in the upper right corner of the right lens was a secret weapon when I needed to know additional information. The way I could open stream what I was looking at, so Nico or anyone else could view it on their phones or a computer.