THE ESCORT

TWENTY-THREE | DESIGNER CINDERELLA

The soft whoop whoops of helicopter blades jerked Elodie upright in bed, her muddled mind trying to process what she was hearing.

Her whole body ached like she'd worked out every muscles as she climbed out of the bed. The carpeted floor was warm underneath her feet, giving her enough awareness to fully open her eyes.

The short walk to the window was a short one, and she was just in time to see the large helicopter disappear behind the tall trees in front of the house.

A car, an unfamiliar one, was sitting in the driveway, and there was no one else in sight.

Elodie must have fallen asleep for real after Bones and Rocco made their exit with Angelo's promise to meet with them in his study.

When he'd taken her to bed, she'd been too tired to follow him in order to glean more information about his meeting with Vasily Medvedev.

Suddenly awake, Elodie hurried to the bedside table where her purse laid, and took out her phone. She already had a missed call from an unknown number, although something told her that she knew this person really well.

She dialed the number.

"Ms. Evans," came Brooks voice after the first ring. "I'm yet to hear anything from you."

Elodie hurried over to the first door to her right, glad to see that it's the bathroom. Then, she locked it, and went to the shower to open all the taps. She hoped it was loud enough to muffle her words, or she was fucked.

"Brooks, I told you not to call me unless I called," she hissed into the phone, settling her back against the clean proclein sink.

"The higher-ups needs something to believe we haven't been compromised," he hissed right back.

Elodie frowned. "Do you know the danger I would be in if the phone gets picked up by the wrong person?"

Brooks sigh was one of defeat. "Okay, fine. I won't do it again. So, do you have anything yet?"

"Two of Angelo's men came around yesterday."

Elodie heard the crinkle of paper as if Brooks was opening a book to jot down in. "Their names?"

"Rocco and Bones."

"Hmm," Brooks hummed. "Rocco is Casieri's consigilere, and Bones is one of his Caporegime. Who else have you met?"

Elodie searched her memories. "A guy called Eyes, although I am yet to see him in London."

"Okay." More sounds of crinkling paper, then, "what did they discuss?"

"Vasily Medvedev is the seller of the Tsar Bomba."

Brooks sharp breath intake echoed down the line. "What?"

"Rocco said he is the seller, and is requesting for a meeting with Angelo first." Elodie glanced at the locked door, then back at the white tiled walls. "And before you ask, no, I don't know where because he stopped them before they could reveal the location."

"And where were they discussing this?"

The tips of her ears heated when she remembered just how naked she'd been when they came around. "I've got to go now."

A slight pause. "Okay. Try to see if you can find out where and get back to me."

"Okay."

Elodie hung up, then dialed Jean's number. Then, she remembered the eight hour difference and hung up. She opted to drop a message instead.

Elodie: Call me when you
wake up.

"Ms. Evans," Hana called out softly from the other side of the door, rapping her knuckles softly on the wood.