Femme Fatale

Chapter Ten: Past And Present

It was the early morning, and young Jo was fast asleep in her canopy bed. It was still dark out, and her alarm wouldn't go off for another hour. Suddenly, a gloved hand covered her mouth. Before her eyes could even open, her head was jerked up and a black piece of cloth was tied over her eyes. Not able to see, she blindly flailed her arms, trying to hit her assailant, but she only made contact with the air.

Jo was flipped onto her stomach. Her arms were pulled back painfully, and her wrists were tied together with rope. When another set of hands grabbed at her ankle, she tried to kick them off, but her little legs were no match for the strength of a grown man. After Jo's legs were bound together, she was hoisted into the air and flung over someone's shoulder. She was carried out of her bedroom and down a flight of stairs.

Even though she was blindfolded and tied up, Jo remained relatively calm. She had to keep a level head in order to think clearly. She felt herself being carried down another few flights of stairs. Where were they taking her?

Jo was being walked through a long hallway. She heard a heavy pair of doors being opened, and she could smell chlorine in the air. The man carrying her walked another fifty yards or so before stopping. He hoisted her off of his shoulder then flung her into the air.

With a loud splash, she was submerged in cold water and enveloped in bubbles. She had been thrown into a pool, just as she predicted. Jo struggled with the rope as she started to sink. Just as she was about to reach the bottom, Jo finally freed her arms. She pulled off the blindfold. 

With her legs still tied, Jo pushed off from the pool floor and butterfly kicked to the top. She gasped for breath when she finally broke the surface. A striking raven-haired woman with porcelain skin was sitting at a nearby table, smoking a cigarette and watching Jo coolly.

Jo climbed out of the pool, her pajamas sopping wet, and unfastened the rope around her ankles. The older woman exhaled a cloud of smoke, then picked up a silver stopwatch from the table. She smiled.

"Well done, little one. You beat your brother's time. He almost drowned!" she chuckled. "Francois is making blueberry pancakes for breakfast."

Jo grinned, pleased with herself. Her mother wasn't usually one for compliments.

"After you wash up, go to the kitchen and practice your French with Francois. He says your accent needs work."

Jo's smile quickly turned to a frown. Francois was a liar - her accent was perfect. He was probably just upset with her for stealing his chocolate. But what did he expect from a child whose mother forbade sweets?

*        *        *        *        *        *

Jo was floating in and out of consciousness. She had been dreaming about her childhood "tests," as her parents so cutely called them. The first test occurred on her tenth birthday, when she had been playing with her brother in their backyard.

Jo and Thomas had been racing each other when two large men appeared out of seemingly nowhere, grabbed them, and threw them into separate black cars. She was dragged, kicking and biting, to a warehouse where she was then tortured for information. It was the only test that she almost failed.

When it was revealed that the torture was Agency-sanctioned, Jo became upset. "But it's my birthday!" she pouted to her mother, folding her little arms.

"Little one, life does not care if it's your birthday," Sophia told her daughter. The beautiful woman bent down and looked her mini-me straight in the eye.

"You must always be ready for life's twists and turns. Do you understand me?"

Jo nodded, and Sophia pulled her daughter in for a hug.