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“Where exactly are we going?” I asked Marc the next day in the train.
“I have contacts here, and we are going to need all the help we can get.” He said, looking out the window away from me.
The train was small, but we had a compartment to ourselves, and now we were speeding along. Caitlin caught my eye and rolled hers. I nodded.
Oh. I thought to myself sarcastically. Just like those Bond movies I watched back in the day.
I sent this thought to Marc and Caitlin, and Marc smiled his full-blown smile, this time facing me.
I was glad I was sitting down, or I might have fallen over.
He said out loud, “Yep. I’m the famous, world-renowned, handsome Bond, and you two are my temporary partners in crime.” I scowl-smiled at him, and he and Caitlin laughed.
We settled back in our seats and talked, knowing that this might be the last time we could rest for a while, before we entered the land of treachery and deceit.
“We’ll be getting off near the compound I told you about.” It was an hour later, and we were approaching our destination.
His voice betrayed none of the emotion that I had seen the night before.
“When we get there, we will simply look around, see what we can find, try to find a lead. The compound has been unused since after the incident, about six months ago. That doesn’t mean no one is there, so be careful.” I nodded.
“How are we going to look around?”
“Well, first, we need to change you.” Marc said ruefully. “Juliana and Caitlin, between your coloring, eyes, and hair, you are both much too noticeable. Unless, of course,” he added, grinning wickedly, “you want all those guys who have been giving you their numbers to keep hounding you.”
I blushed, and Caitlin laughed.
“How did you know that? I noticed that they did it when you were gone. And anyway, I flushed them all down the toilet.”
Marc looked surprised, then laughed.
“Flushed them down the toilet, did you?” He chuckled again. “You’re given to theatre, aren’t you?”
I did not dignify that remark with an answer.
“Yep,” said Caitlin, “She just can’t control herself.”
I pretended not to hear that, and instead I leaned back and watched the scenery from the window.
After a while, the beauty of it all overcame me, and I was like a little kid on Christmas.
Hands and face pressed against the window, I peered out at the miles of farmland once we were out of the city. Huge rolls of hay were scattered on the landscape like forgotten toys.
I was sorry when we finally stopped, and got off, and Caitlin looked regretful as well.
The small train station was the only thing around for a while, other than an old house and fields.
Marc got directly off and walked down a dusty road towards the house. I followed with Caitlin.
“So, do you have a contact that lives here?”
Marc ignored my sarcasm. “Actually, I do. He’s an old friend, and he’ll have what I need.” Caitlin and I sighed at the same time.
I hated the ambiguity of his statement. As a lawyer, I liked all the facts in front of me. However, with this man, nothing was like that.
When we got to the house, Marc knocked on the door. A man appeared, and Marc could have been his younger brother.
The man looked about forty, with the same black hair and same build. He glanced at Caitlin and me, than turned his attention to Marc.
They had a prolonged conversation in French, which I now thoroughly regretted not having learned.
Finally, the man turned and called out into the house. A woman appeared, wiping her hands on a washcloth. She was petite, with Asian bone structure. She was actually very pretty, and her nature was docile.
She led Caitlin and me to a small bathroom while Marc and the other man, who introduced himself to me as Jordan De Mestre, talked in the dining room.
Half an hour later, I emerged from the bathroom.
My dark brown hair was cut shoulder length, and my hair spilt off to one side. My bangs were cut to the bottom of my cheek, and the color contrasted with my cornflower blue eyes. All my skin had been dyed a slightly darker shade. In short, I was not at all Juliana Antoinette anymore.
In fact, my passport read Jamie de la Fontaine, and apparently, Marc was supposed to be my husband, Marc de la Fontaine and Caitlin our daughter, Caitlin de la Fountaine.
I was annoyed about the fact that I had to change my first name, but I had to live with it. Caitlin looked she could be my sister, because she was almost as tall as me, and her hair was cut the same way.
That, paired with her skin color, which was also like mine, made her look like a copy of me. The only difference was that the contacts made her eyes brown, and mine were blue.
When I entered the dining room, I saw Jordan talking to a man with sandy brown hair. When he turned to look at me, I saw that he had stubble spreading across his cheeks.
I gasped. “Marc?”
The man grinned. “You’re not the only one who needs to change how he looks.” Then he sobered. “While we’re here, I need to ask. Can you use a gun, or a knife?”
I nodded. “I learned after Andreas.”
“Good.” He handed me two knives and a gun. The knives strapped to my forearms, and they were paper-thin. He demonstrated how to release them quickly and fluidly.
Then he turned to Caitlin. “Can you?” she shook her head, and Marc started to teach her, showing her how to hold the knives, and then how to use a gun.
“Hopefully, you won’t have to use your new knowledge, but we need to be prepared.” He said after an hour of instruction.
Then he stood. Jordan, who had been quiet all this time, stood as well, and with a nod, left the room.
I had an uneasy feeling, “What is it?” I asked, feeling a now familiar feeling of dread and anxiety.
Marc looked at both of us straight in the eye, and then said. “I should have told you earlier, but I didn’t want to, because I didn’t know how you would react. I have another power.”
Oooo…. Cue scary music. I thought sarcastically while trying to think of what to say.
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You would think that by now, I would be used to things like that, and not really care. But frankly, I think my mind is still trying to keep me vaguely in the realm of sane, so it was constantly surprised.
Also, I had never really thought of Marc having another power. While trying to come up with something smart to say, I went on automatic sarcastic mode.
“So, who’s theatrical now, hmm? How long have you had this power?” I asked.
Marc looked sheepish. “I developed it right after I was carried out of the compound. Without it, I would have died.”
I really didn’t want to know, but I guess I had to. “What is it?”
“I feel a little like a mix of the devil and the angel, actually. I have a good part and a horrible part of my power. When I want to, I think HEAL just like that, in my brain, and suddenly the person I want to heal is healed.”
Caitlin looked at Marc. “That great! Nothing bad about that one. What about the other side?”
“Every time I heal a person, it hurts me. I feel all of their pain, or agony. Every emotion that they have felt in their whole lives floods into me before flooding back into them. When I healed myself, it didn’t matter, but when I tried to heal Conner, I couldn’t do it. He and I both thought that it didn’t matter what happened, because I could heal him. But in his life, he had felt so much pain and sadness that I couldn’t continue. He died because he trusted me.”
I wanted to protest, to tell him it wasn’t true, but his face told me that he didn’t want sympathy.
Caitlin was silent, and I thought back to the first day I met him, about two weeks ago, even though it seemed like years.
I had made a joke about having nine lives, and he had shut down and said something about how he wished others knew that they didn’t either. That would explain it.
“Marc.”
He looked up.
“I know how you feel. Remember how I told you about Mrs. Donavan, my secretary?” he nodded.
“When I lost consciousness, Andreas turned to her and killed her. I felt terrible, until one day I realized that I was human, and humans make mistakes. But the biggest mistake was to dwell on the past so much you miss the present.”
Marc was silent, and then he finally said, “You’re right.”
Something changed, almost imperceptibly, in that moment, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
Caitlin broke the ensuing silence by asking softly, “So when are we going to look around the compound?” Marc opened his mouth to answer, and someone knocked on the door.
Third Person
The woman walked coolly and with confidence down the corridor. Bodyguards were stationed all over the building, but she still carried a gun in her discrete handbag.
To look at her, you would have thought that she was a successful businesswoman, calm and sophisticated. In truth, she was the head of the Russian mafia, and one of the most dangerous people in the world, with millions of dollars on her head. And she was on her way to a meeting with the other most dangerous people in this world.
She had traveled to this small island by use of an underground tunnel of the highest technology, and the tunnel ended up right here in the compound. The whitewashed walls and metallic feel of the building didn’t bother her, and neither did the rows of people in jumpsuit, all obeying her and her colleagues against their will.
She reveled in the thought of all the power she held, but she kept her impassive mask on, not showing any of the bodyguards or other people her real feelings. That would be admitting to having emotions, which were weaknesses.
She stopped at a door, put her eye to a machine that scanned her retina, and then walked into a spacious room.
This room was also whitewashed, but this room had no camera’s or hidden mikes. In the center of the room was a oak conference table, and the other men and women were already gathered around it in silence.
When she took the last open seat, a man across from her, who was wanted in all seven continents and was a drug lord of the biggest cartel in the world spoke.
“You all know why we are here. This meeting marks the eighth month since the bomb.” The others nodded. They knew this already, and didn’t bother with talking or greetings.
Most of the people around this table had tried to kill each other before, and they all worked for different governments. Their only common interest was world domination and money.
“We are Crest. So far, our plans seem to be working. However, the incident at the compound six months ago set us back, and we are behind schedule. The man responsible for this delay is still trying to bring us down.”
Here the nondescript Asian man allowed himself to show emotion through a smirk.
“He is a fly, to be crushed by our rightful boot. However, he has a two women with him. A Ms. Juliana Antoinette, and Caitlin Antoinette. They both have powers that can be most useful. But the man, Marc Juilliard, must die.”
A woman near the back of the room, who was the best professional assassin in the world, renowned for her ruthlessness spoke up.
“I believe I have the man for the job. Though I am sure that we all have the best of assassins at our service, I know of one who has trained for many years, and of whom the older lady is terrified of.”
The Asian man nodded, no questions asked. He would have the man checked out later.
Across from the assassin, a close advisor of the president of the USA, and a completely corrupted one asked,
“The Antoinette women are assets? How?”
The Asian looked at the official with barely concealed dislike. “The older one has telepathic abilities, and can control emotions and thoughts. That would be useful for obvious reasons. Her niece can attract objects to her. That too can be used.”
The Asian turned away from the official, thinking that the matter was closed. Privately, he knew that the official would have to be dispatched. He was nosy, and when someone betrays a cause once, the next time is easier.
But the official wasn’t done.
“We won’t need her once we put the brain chips into operation. You’ve seen how effective they’ve been on the captives. It was proven six months ago at the compound. They were forced to attack each other and the traitors, and they all stopped at the flick of a switch. Once we are in power, it will be no problem to implant them into all the people who object.”
The American continued. “We can just kill her an—“ he never got to finish his sentence.
The knife had seemingly appeared out of nowhere into the Asians hand. Then it was in the official’s throat.
No one else flinched.
The woman from before spoke again. “You saved me the trouble. He was a rat for certain.” The Asian only nodded.
“My pleasure.”
The meeting continued, and when they all left the building, the Asian man looked back.
“Oh, yes.” He said, addressing one of the bodyguards. “Clean up that corpse. I detest the things. They rot and give off a most pungent odor.” He walked off, leaving the guard to deal with what was left.