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Alexis found the noise hypnotic, as was the periodic whump, whump, whump as the car ran over connections between the grates.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“We have a mission.”
Alexis snorted. “We? Since when did I join your merry band of spies?”
“Let’s put it this way,” Mel said, raising his voice over the road noise. “Your sister’s in the hands of a group of terrorists, but apparently hasn’t told them anything. With any luck, they won’t torture her to find Daniel’s papers, with or without your help.”
Alexis gasped. “Oh, my God.”
“Don’t worry.” Mel dismissed the torture scenario a bit too fast for Alexis’ comfort. “Thing is, we could call in some heavy hitters with guns, but that could get ugly. We couldn’t guarantee your sister’s safety. You, on the other hand, could get to the papers without incident. Now, would you rather do that with or without our help?”
“Well, obviously with it.” Alexis paused. “Not that I have much choice . . . .”
Her words trailed off. The car hit the pavement again, plunging them into a thick, uncomfortable silence.
“I guess we’re partners whether I like it or not,” Alexis said.
Mel’s lips curled up in mild amusement. “You catch on fast.”
Mel took Alexis to a small brick house in Queens. He grabbed her bag, hustled her through a gate in a waist-high chain link fence and into the cramped building.
The living room had only a sofa, TV set, and freestanding lamp that looked like they’d been picked up at a rummage sale.
“This is nice. Who’s your decorator?” Alexis said.
Mel grunted. “Funny. They say laughter is the best medicine.”
“I’d like to give you at taste of your own medicine,” Alexis muttered between clenched teeth. Mel either didn’t hear or chose to ignore her.
He led her down a short hallway, past a couple of closed doors to a small bedroom. He flipped on the overhead light which revealed a single bed made up with sheets, pillow, and blanket.
“Rest up,” he said. “We’ll talk about our strategy in the morning.”
And with that, he shut the door. Alexis looked around the tiny room, feeling like a prisoner.
Too weary to bother with pajamas, Alexis stripped to her undies and dived under the covers.
It was approaching 2:30 A.M., when she woke as the doorknob turned with a metallic snick. Alexis froze, watched the door open, saw a slender, shadowy figure slip inside. The silhouette was barely visible, black against blacker. A slender person, not short and stocky like Mel. Alexis lay completely still and breathed evenly, as if she were asleep. A ball of anxiety formed in her belly, as she awaited the worst.
Alexis could sense a person approaching, stealthy as a tiger. Squinting, she could make out this person’s silhouette beside her.
She wondered how fast Mel would respond if she screamed.
Then, a hand was laid, light as a
feather on her head. The hand made slow sweeping strokes over her hair, giving her goosebumps. I know the feel of that hand! That clean smell.
The hand slowed but didn’t leave her hair. “Alexis. I’m sorry,” a man said.
That voice. Alexis sat bolt upright. It can’t be.
“Turn on the light,” she said, her voice choked with emotion.
The man walked over to the light switch and flipped it on to reveal the last person she ever expected to see.
For a moment, Alexis didn’t know whether to scream, cry her eyes out, or simply run over and hug him as hard as she could. And in that moment--an eternity, really--she simply gaped at him, unable to speak.
