“We’re here,” Jack said, startling me from my lengthy slumber, as we’d driven a few hours through the night to reach our destination. I’d awoken at various points during the drive to spy long green pastures nestled in between tall spires of the Apennine Mountains, which had stolen more of my awe in the pale morning light.
I stretched the passenger seat and yawned like a restless cat. “Couldn’t have picked a secondary hideout a little closer to home?” I smirked through a second yawn, covering my mouth partially with my palm.
“This is a little different,” Jack said, pulling off-road and driving down a green path past a little fence line leading to a quaint wooden cottage.
“If everyone knows about this spot, won’t the traitor still be in the midst?”
“Not everyone knows about this location.” Jack said with a glint in his eye.
After parking, Jack kicked open the door and rounded the tiny abode, while I followed in quiet pursuit. There was a curtain with a wash bucket inside it, still droplets of water remaining in its bottom, and a little black motorcycle leaning against the back of the cottage walls. I ran an idle hand across its tattered black leather seat, before we came back around to the front door.
Jack glanced at me, almost telling me to keep alert. I was surprised he even brought me with him, but I guess it was safer with him than not, all things considered.
Raising his knuckle to knock, the door suddenly creaked open and pulled back, to reveal the wearily handsome face of Angus.
“Ugh,” Angus groaned, his charming Scottish accent cutting through thick. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t be you.” He eyes tracked from Jack down to me, before he turned around and walked back deeper into the single room cottage, a kitchen, pull out bed, and living space all in, shaded in the dimly lit space with curtains drawn tightly shut.
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“Can’t believe you’re not happy to see us,” Jack quipped.
“Not us,” Angus chided, “you.” He returned to the kitchen stove and continued cooking some foul smelling gruel in a pot, that looked as unappetizing as it smelled.
“Why does he hate you so much,” I whispered, pulling aside Jack as he closed the door behind us.
Jack sighed. “Well...Natalya just took a better liking to me, is all,” he shrugged.
“Not true,” Angus bellowed from the short distance away, seemingly hearing our conversation. “We were...a pair.” His face twitched with rage at this remembrance.
“That’s not what she told me!” Jack cried out, in a great defense.
“She didn’t tell neither of us many truths,” Angus spat back.
“You know I wouldn’t have, had I known,” Jack said sorrowfully.
“I don’t know nothing about that, American,” Angus snarled.
Jack held silent for a moment, mournfully honest in the words he had just spared.
“Speaking of,” I started up, still gazing around the small room, “where is Natalya? Is she supposed to be here?”
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Something rapped upon the wooden door, before halting for a brief moment and continuing again.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The hard thumping, rhythmic barrage played musically, echoing throughout the room itself, before falling silent again.
Angus and Jack shot each other narrow eyed expressions. Jack looked back at me with concern.
Something was off.
I opened my mouth to speak, before Jack sidled up to me and covered it with a gentle palm, shaking his head resolutely. I nodded in understanding.
Jack removed his hand and reached for a handgun holstered at his hip, while Angus snatched a a carving knife from a wood block on the counter-top, spun it in his hand and poised it at the ready, the blade shining out from underneath his closed fist. He slowly slipped the knife past the side of the curtain above the sink, where light filtered in opaquely, his eyes looking for a reflection bouncing off the flat of pristine cutlery, to inspect the outside.
CRASH!
Angus jumped back as a canister shattered the window and flew inside, trailing tear gas into the room!
I stumbled to the floor, startled and coughing, as Jack prepared for combat. He looked at me with intense focus in his eyes. “Stay down.”