Chapter 2

Written by: annetteconnor

The moon crept past the courtyard. The drunk wrestled onto his crutches and hobbled to the small café three blocks away, parasol tucked under his right arm.

The Contact sat beneath the bright blue canopy of Café Blauwasser, wrapped in sleek black rabbit fur, sipping her demitasse of espresso. “Fraulein, I must tell you that Herr Stuart sent a bidder our way today,” he croaked from the other side of the iron fencing. He leaned forward and studied the menu posted on the window in the dim glow of the gaslight.

She lowered the cup, missing the indent of the saucer and spilling several drops. She mopped at it with the delicate linen from her lap, raising sapphire eyes to catch his bloodshot and jaundiced gaze. “When?”

He shrugged. “Before two, after one.” The local church bell pealed out twelve long beats as if on cue. “You’ll know him. He will bring three million rather than two.”

“You’ll get your cut - and more if he lives. Next time, don’t wait so long.”

 

Sabine Hessing’s ruby-lacquered fingertips flew across the phone, dialing a number that she’d hoped to never need. Time flew and with it, John’s chance of survival. The gap between rings stretched interminably. One . . . two . . . three . . . four. She hung up and dialed again after counting to twelve. Jerry Carpenter’s nasal twang floated into her ear.

“You’re a go. Line secure.”

“Jerry, it’s Sabine. John’s thrown up the red flare. Give me a location and extraction point.”

“Whoa, sweetheart, John-Boy’s in good hands.” She heard his teeth bite down on themselves, three times. “But for old time’s sake, I’ll take a look-see and ring you back tomorrow. Say fifteen bells at the latest. ‘Kay, babe?”

Sabine leaned against the cold concrete wall to steady herself. She hung up without answering. The teeth clatter meant the line wasn’t secure. Old time’s sake – John was at Alexanderplatz, probably in the Marienkirche or possibly the tower. Fifteen bells at the latest – a boat would be waiting for them at the docks until 3 o’clock tomorrow. ‘Kay, babe – the boat would have a child’s name, like My Precious Girl.

Sabine’s heels echoed off the cobblestone alley as she made her way to her personal munitions depot, tucked in the back of a nearby bakery. She needed to go in fast. That was fine. That was the way she liked it.

 

The one-legged man entered Café Blauwasser, fingering the three Euros in his pocket. The hostess met him three strides in, blocking his path. A smile stretched her lips, smearing red gloss across her teeth. “We are closing, sir. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and turned to the door. It was enough, she was gone. He lurched onto the street and tumbled to the ground. The knife that sliced through his spinal column was so sharp that he thought he’d tripped on his crutches until the searing pain struck harder than the pavement.

 

Annette Connor, USA

 

Comments

Welcome back Annette. "The knife that sliced through his spinal cord...." is the kind of sentence that makes the true thriller reader shiver with anticipation. What is coming next? The scene is certainly set for an adventure involving sexy agent Sabine, a deadly women on a mission to rescue John - lover? Who knows. I loved this chapter.
Yes, great chapter Annette. Great imagination, atmosphere and painting of the scene with terrific characters.
I like how different styles in this format can continue the storyline. This is a very good chapter Annette that provides extra material to expand the story.