A KNOCK RESOUNDED on the sturdy, oaken door. I quickly picked up the flower pot and dumped it on the dining table, straightening my powder blue dress as I did so. I took a deep breath and addressed the outside party as the knock resounded once more.
"Come in!" I replied, doing my best to portray a convincing French accent. The door burst open and in charged two men; one in grey wearing glasses and the other tall and broad in an all black suit with a gun strapped to his hip, visible only via the uneven lump it created in his jacket. They stopped inches from me and stared me down; the tall man in black seemingly more present than his timid counterpart.
"Which one of you is Wistrom?" I asked as Moreau's voice from the room below came over my earpiece.
"I am." The broad man stepped closer. "I admire your work." He drawled, menacingly.
"Pleasure. And who pray tell, is your friend?" I inquired, matching my tone to his.
"I might say the same for your little friend over there." He gestured to Ethan's son perched on the arm of the blue, recliner couch; a stone faced expression met him.
Jasmine's POV:
"My daughter." Ethan replied, tartly.
"How sweet." The murderous woman cooed.
"Indeed." Brandt coughed.
"Where are my codes?" Ethan asked changing the topic, quickly followed with a fake smile.
"Where are my diamonds?" She countered. Despite me being strategically seated next to Ethan, I was merely inches from making her repent for what she'd done. Brandt knew this and gave me a warning look which quenched my growing rage and impatience somewhat.
"Close by." Ethan smiled.
"Your Father has quite some cheek waltzing in here without my payment yet expecting his. Does he know the meaning of fair play?" Moreau laughed and eyed me.
"Hardly. Then again, I don't suppose many business people do since they're predominantly so selfish." I mumbled yet emphasised my last word enough so that she could clearly hear. A worried glance was cast my way.
I could hear my Dad's voice in my head for the first time since he'd been killed. "Be patient, my girl. Play the long game and you'll win. It's the only outcome in a business like this." He reminded me; his words of advice echoing and bouncing around my skull. Deciding to heed this, I took a deep breath and flashed a polite smile.
Jane's POV:
"You have my payment?" I presumed.
"Not until I see those codes." He growled.
"You won't see anything if you talk to her that way again." Miles warned from beside me.
"Quite the charmer, you have there." He sneered.
"Quite the as-" Miles was interjected by a knocking on door. Wistrom and his associate quickly jumped up but I placed a hand on their shoulders, commanding them to sit back down.
"No, no do not worry. I thought we could have tea." I explained, throwing a knowing glance at Ethan's son. "Miles go and help the man whilst the adults discuss propositions." I waved him away, watching him cringe at his hasty dismal and patronisation.
YOU ARE READING
The Analyst's Nightmare (Mission Impossible 4)
Action"This message will self destruct in 5 seconds." He turned to look at me, a quizzical expression covering his features. "No, no, no, no! Don't give me that look I know what that means!" I said, defensively. What is it that one does hours before wh...
