SIERRA

A young woman sees a face from her recent past. A man she shot dead.

 

            'Fancy seeing you here.' said a man's voice behind her.

 

As 25 year old Cathy turned from the shop window she was smiling, but the smile

 

faded rapidly when she saw the man who had addressed her. She looked with disbelief into

 

'the mans blue eyes. Almost as if checking the rest of him was real she slowly inspected

 

him, from his black nondescript woollen hat and well-worn black leather jacket to his old

 

grey Nike trainers. Her mind racing, she looked quickly to her right, then to her left, but said

 

nothing. The blue eyed man stepped to her right side. Cathy started to walk quickly to the

 

left and as she did a blonde woman about ten years her senior stepped out of a shop doorway

 

and blocked her way. 

 

On making eye contact, the blonde used an inclination of her head to suggest the

 

younger woman looked in the direction of the kerbside. A black cab was parked only a few

 

steps away, and beckoning Cathy from within was a man in a pin striped suit. 

 

Cathy turned back and looked directly at the blonde, who in turn inclined her head

 

downwards and started to remove her hand from inside her tweed jacket. Firmly gripped in

 

rock steady fingers was a Walther PPK, the preferred weapon of a certain type of operative. 

 

When once again the two women made eye contact the blonde raised her right

 

eyebrow and allowed herself the faintest trace of a smile before she spoke. 

 

'We want you dead,' she said sweetly, 'but the gentleman in the cab wants you alive.'  

 

During a silent fifteen minute journey through the city, Cathy's bag and clothing

 

were quickly, but thoroughly searched by the blonde. The cab turned into a narrow alleyway

 

then into a private car park where it parked up beside a silver people carrier with mirrored

 

windows. Once the two women and the silent, suited gent were in the back of the people

 

carrier, 'blue eyes' got into the driver's seat and immediately got the next part of the

 

journey underway. The silver MPV made good time getting out of the city then keeping

 

strictly to the speed limits it was driven towards Kent. In the back of the vehicle the 

 

blonde and the gent sat silently, watching as the city became suburbs, and the suburbs

 

became countryside. They sat silently through choice, both occasionally glancing at

 

Cathy. Cathy sat silently too. Not through choice, but because she was blindfolded and

 

gagged and her hands were hand-cuffed to the grab handle above the sliding door.

 

 

 

Eventually, after a fast drive along a stretch of motorway they left the main

 

route to use a narrow road lined with hedgerows. On these quiet roads the vehicle was able

 

to travel at a reasonable speed and occasionally the sound of the tyres screeching on a bend

 

caused the blonde to mutter under her breath. Once, she broke her silence and said, 'There's

 

no hurry...'. She stopped short at using a name.

 

Cathy had at first tried to judge the time, and the road surfaces but it was to no

 

avail. The driver had taken so many tight turns and had possibly back-tracked. Then there

 

was the time spent on what was definitely a motorway. These people were professionals. 

 

The vehicle slowed, there was a slight bump, followed by another very rapidly. A railway

 

level crossing? That was something to note if the journey wasn't going on much longer. Five

 

minutes later the people in the silver MPV arrived at their destination. The man who'd been

 

driving got out just long enough to open what sounded like a large sliding door, then he was

 

back behind the wheel and the vehicle was driven inside over the small rail of the door.

 

 

 

 

Cathy was released from the grab handle and she immediately tried to get some life

 

back into her numb, lifeless arms and fingers. Within two minutes she found herself standing

 

in the middle of a large empty barn. The blindfold and gag had been removed but nobody

 

spoke. The room was empty, except for herself, her captors, and the MPV. Natural light was

 

coming from two large skylights in the roof, a strangely modern fixture in such an old

 

building the young woman mused. A few feet behind and to her left stood the blonde.

 

Behind and to the right was 'blue eyes'. Standing only a few feet away, immediately to

 

her front was the gent in the suit, who Cathy guessed might be about thirty five. Behind

 

the gent the silver vehicle was parked, engine off, doors and tinted windows all closed. 

 

For over an hour the young woman was interrogated incessantly by the man in the

 

suit. His voice was never raised, he never used foul language and he never threatened. If

 

anything struck her as strange it was that the man seemed to know everything she had done

 

over the preceding three months, and impressively he never referred to any notes. At what

 

seemed to be irregular intervals the gent would indicate 'blue eyes' with a nod and ask his

 

favourite question, 'Who were you working for when you shot him?'

 

The young woman maintained her silence. She concentrated hard to mask her

 

feelings. She had adopted a blank expression since getting out of the vehicle. 

 

'I'm going to ask you one more time, then I'll give you five minutes to think about it,'

 

the gent said evenly, 'then I'm going to toss a coin.' He stopped briefly, then continued in

 

the same matter-of-fact tone, 'heads... this lady will kill you... tails, my blue-eyed associate

 

will kill you.' He paused for effect then continued, 'He may take longer and enjoy it more,

 

but he will kill you my dear. Don't die for an ideal. You're young and quite pretty and you

 

could still get out of this sorry business alive.' He raised his voice for the first time after a

 

slight pause, 'Who were you working for when you shot him?'

 

 

She winced very slightly at the change of tactics but continued to stare defiantly at

 

the scar below the man's left eye. It gave her something to concentrate on, and it made him

 

angry because it made him think she was staring him out. Time had ceased to mean anything

 

to Cathy from the moment she remembered those blue eyes. She briefly reflected on her

 

orders. She was to get close enough to make sure she didn't miss and she was to be sure to

 

shoot him in the chest, not the face. The face was to be avoided at all costs, because the

 

agency wanted him to be identified quickly after the shooting. She had found it so hard, but

 

she had carried out the plan to the last detail. Even being gone from the scene within ten

 

seconds of him falling to the floor, blood oozing out of the front of his jacket. Now he would

 

get his revenge. Amongst the chaotic mixture of belated guilt, fear and anxiety there was the

 

blonde. How did she fit into all this? Then there was the suited interrogator?

 

'Okay,' the gent said, 'time's up. You had your chance.'

 

He reached into a trouser pocket and produced a coin. With more drama than was

 

necessary he closed his right hand into a fist and balanced the coin on the thumbnail.   With a

 

flick it was sent spinning into the air. As the coin fell he caught it in his right hand and

 

slammed it onto the back of his left hand and slowly uncovered it. He looked at Cathy, then

 

at the coin, then smiled briefly before nodding in the direction of the blonde woman.

 

Cathy hadn't heard them approach her from behind and within seconds she was once

 

again blindfolded and gagged. The small group left the barn and headed along a narrow

 

gravel path before stopping. The young woman was being helped along by the blonde and

 

blue eyes to make sure she didn't falter. When they stopped the men were silent.

 

'I want her ankles tied over the line and her wrists to that post, well away from it.'

 

She continued deliberately, 'We wouldn't want her to roll onto the line and finish the job.'

 

 

Cathy struggled violently for the first time, but there were three pairs of hands and

 

she was quite helpless. She felt the cold metal of the railway line against her ankles. The

 

gravel around the area of the sleepers was digging into her body, but she didn't feel that. 

 

As her arms were pulled to stretch her body out she should have felt her body temperature

 

fall with the proximity to the cold earth, but she was preoccupied with her predicament.

 

She heard the sound of footsteps on gravel as they receded into the distance to leave her

 

to her fate. Now she shivered involuntarily, and it wasn't from the cold. The realisation

 

of her situation was coming home to her. Under the blindfold her closed eyes were leaking

 

tears, tears of abject fear. She was biting her bottom lip to prevent herself from the

 

total frustration of trying to cry out with a gag. Her head was spinning with a thousand very

 

different thoughts and she continually fought to free her wrists and ankles.

 

There was a slight vibration on the rails. Then there was a low humming sound,

 

followed shortly after by the unmistakable sound of a train. As the noise grew and the

 

vibration increased Cathy tried to scream and she became aware of the metallic taste of blood

 

oozing from her lip. The thunderous sound of the locomotive became almost deafening as it

 

closed the distance to where she was bound to the rails. Cathy passed out.

 

 

 

As she regained consciousness Cathy was aware of the chink of metal against metal.

 

When she felt her legs freed she instantly swung her legs up to her chest and in a continuous

 

movement rolled away from the line, only to be stopped by the bindings on her wrists.

 

Something was pulling at the ropes which bound her wrists. Her wrists came free from the post.           

 

In an instant she pulled the gag from her mouth and removed the blindfold. As she sat up she

 

quickly tried to take in her surroundings. Immediately to her front were two sets of railway

 

lines. A few feet away the closest set were orange and rusted from many years of disuse

 

and neglect. Running alongside them were a set of bright silver, well-maintained rails.

 

As she was taking this information in she started to cry uncontrollably. Hand clapping started

 

behind her. She spun around, still sitting on the damp gravel. Seated on the verge only a few

 

feet away were the suited gent and the blonde. On one knee right beside her was blue eyes.

 

In his right hand was a large hunting knife. He leaned forward quite suddenly and sliced

 

cleanly through her bindings. Cathy continued to cry.

 

 

 

The young woman sipped at her coffee, then looked slowly around the well-appointed

 

farmhouse. The other three people had all removed their jackets and were now seated as she

 

was in leather armchairs. On returning to the farmhouse which was on the opposite side of

 

the barn she had been given time on her own to come to terms with her emotions and have a

 

shower. Fresh clothes, which looked remarkably like her own had been supplied.

 

Nobody else was speaking and they all looked relaxed. She was no longer gagged.

 

'Okay,' Cathy ventured, 'is somebody going to tell me what the hell is going on?'

 

The blonde lady smiled, then spoke, this time with no malice in her tone, 'Your

 

codename is Sierra. I know that because I am working on behalf of your agency. Before I

 

continue there is one question that you must answer.'

 

'Go on.' Cathy said abruptly.

 

'Do you still want to be involved in the work the agency does?'

 

Cathy looked at each of them in turn. There wasn't an emotion to be seen. She

 

swallowed hard, looked at each of them again then said to the blonde, 'Yes, I do.'

 

'At this point, allow me to introduce myself,' the blonde said amicably, 'I am Quebec,

 

your team leader.' she paused to let that information sink in, then continued. 'About a month

 

ago when I saw your progress reports I took over your tasking and training objectives. If you

 

were going to be in my team, I wanted to know what you were made of.' She looked briefly

at one man, then the other. 'We've all been observing you throughout your training and

 

we've been impressed by your professionalism. Working as part of a team like ours depends

 

on total and absolute loyalty - even in the face of death. Today you became one of us.'

 

Quebec nodded towards blue eyes and the gent respectively and continued, these two guys

 

are Bravo and Kilo. I speak for all of us when I say, 'Welcome to the team, Sierra.'

 

Agent Sierra allowed herself the briefest smile, looked at each of them in turn, then said,

 

'Thank you, Quebec.'     

 

 

 

The End

Author's Note

All reviews and comments welcome. Please give your age if 18 or under so that I can work out my target audience.

Reviews

[Frank F. Atanacio]

Very gripping-- great flow and controlled words-- yeah it's worthy of the title, and it was easy to read which makes it a want to read..:)

[nightyalia]

wow this was so great -16