This wasn't going to plan. The thought repeated itself in Ashleigh's head, this wasn't going to plan. She was pressed up against a wall, her heart pounding, surely loud enough to give away her position. Moving slowly, she reached under her jacket for her holster, and slid her weapon from it. Every movement conspired against her, sounding painfully loud in the quiet underground garage.
They had arrived twenty minutes earlier, and watched the men arrive. Dmitrov and James had slipped into the garage, concealed in the shadows, expecting Ashleigh to drive away a few minutes later, and wait for them at the hotel. It would be easier to conceal two people rather than three, and Ashleigh had agreed, they would keep in contact with a small radio device. It wasn't as if there would be any trouble, Dmitrov had insisted that this was simply an observation. That had been the plan. Of course, the plan hadn't included the second car turning up just as Ashleigh had been preparing to leave. She had been sitting in the dark saloon, the engine running, headlights switched off, slowly counting to fifty in case there was a problem, and the two agents were to return. Just as she slid the car into gear, a second car had arrived, and two men had clambered out, heading into the building as James and Dmitrov had minutes earlier. She had a nasty feeling that this car and its occupants were here solely to cause trouble.
So she had slipped silently from the car and into the first level of the garage. The meeting would take place on the third floor, down, Dmitrov and James were somewhere on that level. Unable to use the radio for fear of alerting whoever to their presence, it appeared that this was one message that she would have to deliver in person.
Keeping pressed up against the walls, shrouding herself in shadows, she edged towards the stair case that would lead her to the lower levels. She ached to run, but knew she would draw far too much attention to herself, her boots clicked on the concrete floor, she held her breath each time she took another step. Her gun was a comforting weight in her hand, the reassurance that she needed. She reached the door, and painstakingly drew it open, inch by inch, until she could slip through.
On the concrete stairs she had a brief respite, clattering down the steps as quickly as she dared. She peered through the grimy tiny pane of glass, all clear, she crept through. It took a little time for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, a single strip of weak bulbs running along the walls, barely illuminating the empty parking spaces. She trailed the length of the level, her eyes darting into the corners, praying that James and Dmitrov might be here, and not already further down. It appeared to be empty.
'Damndamndamndamndamn' she muttered.
A noise from the other end of the level caused her to flit into the nearest dark corner. It was time to make a move, she waited, listening, and decided that it had been her imagination; she crept back to the stairwell. On the second level, she had learnt her lesson, she simply peered around the door, realised that it was deserted, and turning, began to descend to the third level.
It was unclear who was the more surprised, Ashleigh or the two well built men that were climbing the stairs towards her. They stared at each other for a small eternity, and then the taller man, with the cold blue eyes saw her weapon. His eyes narrowed, Ashleigh followed his gaze. Both men reached into their jackets, and Ashleigh had more than a good idea about what they would be reaching for.
It was time for a snap decision, and she decided that discretion was the better part of valour. She span on her heel, and sprinted back up the stairs.
She had a good head start, taking the stairs two at a time, using the grubby feeling banister to drag herself up, listening to the pounding steps of the two men following her. She nearly tripped as she reached the top of the stairs, grabbing at the handle of the door, the rusted spring mechanism protesting at its harsh treatment as she pulled it open. The garage suddenly seemed impossibly long before her; surely it hadn't stretched to this length when she had crept along its dark walls earlier. She had to get to the end, then up the exit slope and she would be out in the open, and more difficult to target.
Ashleigh ran. Her high heeled boots resounded with an echo through the empty garage, she wondered if she could be heard on the levels below. She sprinted as if her life depended on it, in fact, it probably did. Her weapon felt heavy in her hand, her breath was catching painfully in her lungs, slowing her down. A shot was fired at her, the bullet ricocheting off the nearest pillar, frighteningly close; her hands flew instinctively to her ears, her body already crouching, trying to make herself as small a target as possible. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that the way behind her was still clear, but it wouldn't last for long, the bullet must have been a lucky shot taken from the hallway.
If she could just get to the car. It was so close, just up the slope, and outside, already she was fumbling for the keys, urging her body on, to move faster.
A second bullet and loud footsteps told her that the men were close behind and gaining, she abandoned her escape and ducked behind a pillar, cursing. Breathing deeply, trying to get a rhythm to her frantically beating heart, she fought with the clip of the gun, checking it was fully loaded. With a harsh click she slid it back into place, her thumb drawing back the safety. A final breath, she stepped around the pillar, fired twice, and ducked back.
Both men were approaching rapidly, both were armed. She swore again. The footsteps were still thundering towards her. Bracing herself she threw herself once more into the sprint of her life, knowing a moving target would be harder to hit than a stationary. It was her only chance.
Ashleigh never knew what caused her to fall, her footing slid out from beneath her, and she hit the ground with a bone jarring thump, the breath forcibly removed from her already aching lungs. Her Walter PPK clattered across the slick tarmac, tantalizingly close to her fingertips, and she scrambled for it. Strong hands gripped her back, pulling her upright. Briefly she saw the harsh blue eyes of the taller man, a fist flew through the air, a violent blow, and all went black.
They stood over her prone body, unsure what to do next. They stepped back respectively as he approached.
'Is she dead?' he asked. He only half cared.
The man that had dealt the cruel blow shook his head. 'Just KOed.'
'Who is she?' when they simply shrugged, he sighed. 'Find out.'
The other man reached down, pulling her onto her back, she had fallen onto her stomach. He rummaged through her jacket, and pulled out a slim black wallet. He handed it to the man who had just arrived.
He took it, staring down at the unconscious woman. He noted her pale face, framed by dark brows, and thick short eyelashes pressed against her cheeks. Unusual looks, he decided, and suddenly an irrational thought flickered through his mind; he wondered what colour her eyes would be if she were to open them now and look directly at him.
Pushing the thought away he opened the wallet he held, pulling out the first card he came to. He read the name upon it, feeling a flicker of recognition at the initials and surname embossed there. It wasn't a common name he mused, but neither was it unusual. He pulled out the driver's licence, and he knew then. It didn't matter that the picture that was printed upon it was small and blurred, staring at the name, the disturbingly familiar name he knew exactly what colour her eyes would be. They would be a rich warm brown, full of laughter, always amused, eyes that would change to green when she smiled. Eyes that he knew, and remembered all to well.
He smiled. He also knew what a valuable hand she was. The game was on.
