Smooth Operator.

05. An Alliance Forms

CHAPTER FIVE
AN ALLIANCE FORMS

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PUSHING THE ANXIETY DOWN TO ITS SMALLEST INGOT, BLACK CAT STEPPED INTO CARRIAGE THREE. As she thought deeply into the situation, she would have no way to find this briefcase, than by asking the people who would be willing to kill to get it back.

Yes, the chances of them shooting her head off were utterly through the roof, for she would be admitting that she had been the one who'd stolen their case, and then promptly lost it. So she would completely understand any harsh feelings or rash decisions not entirely in her favour.

When she set eyes on them, they were messing about with the third man, the one she assumed to be the Russian. He sat limply in his chair, brown hood pulled over his head.

In his hands Lemon held a set of plastic pink glasses and pressed them onto the man's face, who made no effort to remove them. Not suspicious at all.

And, when she approached the four-seater, Tangerine was leaned over the table, hands on the Russian's jaw, and Lemon was carefully laying his head against the window.

They both sat back in their seats, exhaling deeply as if they'd just completed such a strenuous task, which putting Momonga glasses on someone didn't appear to be – but, hey, how should we know?

Their eyes trailed from one another over to Black Cat.

"You know, it's rude to stare," Tangerine stated, eyes narrowing as he looked the woman up and down. Dark curls pulled back into a ponytail, two ringlets sitting comfortably at the front to frame her face. An oversized black blazer, buttoned together to cover her white button-up and black tie, and short black skirt.

Black Cat let out a small huff at his wandering eyes. "Could say the same to you, too."

Eyebrows furrowed, she gestured for Tangerine to move up, and once he did so she sat down beside him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Lemon asked, his voice low as he gazed at Black Cat in confusion.

Black Cat tucked one of her ringlets out of her face. "Call me Estela," was the first thing she said as she tried to think of the words. "Uh... It seems like we're all in deep shit." she looked between Lemon and Tangerine.

She brought her hands onto the table, still quite unsure how to behave, and what to say. "I'll just be upfront. I took your briefcase." She looked between the men once again with an awkward smile, a combination of guilt and uncertainty.

"You what!?" Tangerine almost roared, rising in his seat to probably wring her throat, but Lemon leaned across the table to push him back down into place.

With Tangerine seething all the while beside her, Lemon looked seriously over at Black Cat – or Estela, as he now knew her. He leaned forward in his seat, eyebrows upturning in worry. "Why would you risk telling us? What's happened?"

Estela's eyebrows furrowed and her lips tugged into a straight line. "I don't exactly know where it is." She shrugged again. "But there's a decoy, which this guy with big glasses has, but he probably thinks it's the real one. But that doesn't tell us where the real one is."

When she glanced over at Tangerine, he was practically sizzling with rage like a strip of bacon in a frying pan.

"So, what do you want us to do?" Lemon asked again, concern in his voice. It was clear to Estela who was the kinder fruit; she'd always liked lemons much more than oranges. You know, there was sherbet lemons – she liked those – and lemon meringue pie – she made a mean lemon meringue pie.