World Class: A New Beginning, Part 2


    Joe the U.S. Marshal awoke to a knife on his throat.  He didn’t remember going to sleep, or even meeting the man who held the blade before.  He concluded that he had been knocked unconscious, a theory that was held up by the fact that he was lying on the floor.

    He also concluded that it involved that Asian woman that vanished from the train only hours ago.  He had been at the train station, trying to find her, after security swept the cars and found no sign of her.

    Looking for an escape was useless; he was being held down by the neck by someone as strong as he was, maybe stronger.  There was another male, and a female, all armed.  They had a restroom secured, and the door locked, so they wouldn’t be disturbed.  And from Joe’s experience, he hoped no one would disturb them, or they might end up dead.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Where is she?”  the man holding the knife asked.

    Joe thought about trying to protect the poor injured Asian’s location, but he had a family.  And as she warned, these three were ready to kill.  He felt terrible to betray her, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking.  Fortunately, it didn’t matter; she was careful enough to cover her tracks, so he really didn’t know much.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“She left the train while I was out of the room,”  he said quickly.  “I’ve been looking for her in the train station.”

    The three assassins considered that for a moment.  They nodded in succession, and then the one holding the knife to his throat pulled the Marshal to his feet violently.

    He then made his terms clear.  “You are bait,”  the assassin told Joe.  “She will recognize you.  You have one hour to find her.  Then you die.”

    Joe swallowed hard.  He declined to mention if that meant he would die only if he failed, or he would die anyway.  He decided not to push his luck and ask.  His only chance was a distraction - to find a realistic lead where the woman may have gone, and direct the assassins to it, while freeing himself simultaneously.

    He thought about where she might have gone first, and he had his answer right when he exited the restroom.  In order to disappear affectively, she would have needed money, and she didn’t have much on her while she was on the train.  Across the station was a bank.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“There.”  He pointed at the bank.  “She must have stopped there.”

    The knife-wielding assassin put a knife to his back, and urged him forward.  Joe noticed just then that there was a small group of city police officers entering the station during a shift change.  Now was his chance.

    He gave the knife holder a hard shove, and started sprinting toward the officers.  They looked a little shocked as he approached, and one began talking on his radio.  But they were not shocked because of him.

    There was a loud ‘boom’, and another, and another.  In seconds, six police officers in total, and two train station security people, were lying on the floor, bleeding.  There was a constant drone of shrieking train passengers as they ran, and tried to flee certain death.

    The female assassin carrying the shotgun - and deadly accurate with it, apparently - leveled the barrel at Joe.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“You should have cooperated,”  she said.  “You would have lasted longer.”

    Joe didn’t hear the last boom.  He didn’t, because he was already running.  Somehow, breathlessly, he made it outside the doors, and kept running, panting till he felt like fainting, all the way down the steps and onto the street.  He ignored the approaching police cars, not trusting that they could protect him, and continued running some more.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why did you let him go?”  the blade-carrying male assassin asked the female.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“He’ll look for her for protection, for his family.”  she explained.  “All we have to do is follow.”


---


    Keiko entered the hotel room she had just finished checking into.  One of the hotel bellmen followed her to the door, and unloaded several bags onto the dresser just inside the room, in two neatly arranged rows.  She rewarded him with a fairly large tip, and he thanked her.

    As soon as he left, she hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the door, and closed it.  Then she took a moment to admire the hotel room.  It was a single room with a king sized bed, but was still pretty nice.  The hotel had been newly remodeled recently, so everything had that new-construction look, feel, and smell.

    Though it was kind of unusual to check into a hotel room with bags from downtown retailers and no luggage, an excuse was easy enough to come up with.  Keiko told the check-in desk clerk that she had just arrived and the airline lost all her bags.  She didn’t say train, she said airline.  Otherwise someone might ask if an Asian girl checked in at the hotel after arriving on a train, and the evidence would point right to her.

    She knew her enemy; when she checked in, she asked for a room facing the busy street, but with no balcony.  The assassins she used to work with knew how to rappel off the side of a building, so she didn’t want to give them a nice, hidden, easy way into the room.  She also chose a newly remodeled hotel on purpose, because they have elevators that require a room key, and will only take you to your own floor, and stairway doors that set off an alarm.

    The room itself was plushly carpeted with slick, high quality sheets on the bed.  It had a small refrigerator, a microwave and coffee maker, flat screen TV mounted on the wall and a DVD player, plus a desk with a lamp and high-speed internet.  There was a large picture window, but Keiko’s rightful paranoia led her to shut the curtains as the sun began to set.

    It was comfortable enough to stay in for a long period of time if necessary; but she didn’t plan on staying more than a few days.  She needed just enough time to make sure those hunting her weren’t able to track her this far.  There would be one more hop to her trip, to where she would stop and build a new life - but she had to make sure that choice was made only after she lost her pursuers.

    The big problem, she pondered, was how to get to her next stop.  Airline and train tickets were out, because the organization she worked for would have access to that information.  Bus tickets were still private, but once the options had been narrowed to just one, she could bet that her pursuers would be watching the bus stations.  She could rent a car, but that would be risky, because if they caught up they could kill her in a crash on a lonely highway somewhere when she’s by herself and defenseless.

    Still, she would have to choose one of those.  She would have to make a calculated decision of which one would be the lowest risk.

    Right now, however, she had only to calculate how to get dinner, and a supply of water and snacks for her next few days there.

    Keiko ventured back out of her room, heading downstairs to the hotel lobby.  She looked down the hallway to the bar, which was crowded and noisy at that time of the evening.  That wouldn’t be too safe, too many noisy people were as bad as none at all in terms of witnesses.

    Then she saw a poster advertising a restaurant that was on the highest floor of the hotel.  Half a floor, actually, because part of the place had seating outdoors.  That could be ideal - outdoors is just quiet enough yet just busy enough to assure she’s being watched at all times, and makes her a difficult target for snipers.

    A few minutes later, she was upstairs at the restaurant.  It was cold and windy out that night, being the Bay Area, so the outside eating area was closed.  Instead she took a small, high table near the bar area.  Since the hotel had several of them, the bar wasn’t too busy.

    She ordered some kind of ravioli, and munched on bread and hot tea while she waited for it.  That’s when she noticed the man at the next table staring at her.  She looked at him, but then paid closer attention to her bread, hoping he would believe she’s not interested in talking to him.

    It didn’t work.  He walked right up to her table, holding a nearly full glass of beer that he just ordered.  

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“You mind some company?”  he asked.  “I’m kind of alone here for a convention.  I haven’t talked to a human being in two days.”

    A convention?  With hundreds of people?  And he hasn’t talked to a human being in two days?  Oh, she thought to herself, he’s being funny and clever.

    She replied.  “I had a really long day, I just want to go to have dinner, and go to sleep.”

    He was kind of clever, though, and right off the bat, instead of using some silly pick-up line.  And he was very good looking, too.  Hot, actually.  He was very fit, slightly tanned, cut but long-ish hair, looked like he worked out a bit, but not so intimidating to look like a steroid or gym addict.  

    While men like him were more common in the U.S., she would have considered him to be exotic and exciting, while she was a teenager in Japan.  So while her mind wandered back to that time, she made the mistake of continuing to stare at him, which kept him from simply walking away.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Okay, fine,”  she finally relented, and she offered him a seat with a wave of her hand.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sean,”  he introduced himself.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Keiko,”  she echoed her own name back tiredly.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“So you really are Japanese,”  he noted.

    She looked up at him, confused.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“In California, all the time I see an Asian with an American name, and they’re like, second or third generation, born here.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh,”  she answered quietly.  “I was born in Kyoto, lived there all my childhood.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“You have a very slight accent, but not much.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“So do you.”  she replied.

    Sean’s smile disappeared for a moment, but then he laughed when he understood the joke.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“I went to a very good English school,”  she explained.  “Here in the U.S.”  She was careful not to mention which state or city.

    Just then, Keiko’s food arrived.  She noticed Sean gawking at it, so she asked him, “Would you like to order some too?”

    He shook his head.  “No, I just finished eating.  I was just thinking that it looks good.”

    Keiko shrugged.  “I’ll let you try one.”  She picked up the small plate she had left over from when the bread arrived, and passed one piece of ravioli to Sean.

    He tasted it, and nodded slowly.  “You know what you like.  I saw how quickly you ordered, and I wasn’t sure if you were a gambler, or you just knew.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“I hope this isn’t rude,”  Keiko told him, “I like the compliments, I really do.  I kind of like you, too.  But I’ve had a really awful day, and I was looking forward to some quiet.”

    Just then, a group at the bar yelled loudly as something happened on the TV.  Keiko cringed at the noise.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Picked a hell of a place,”  Sean pointed out with a smile.

    She just sighed.

    Sean then asked, “How about a walk?  It’s pretty quiet outside.”

    By then, she had finished off most of the ravioli, so she agreed.  She asked for the check, and they headed out of the restaurant.


---


    It was a risk, going outside.  Twice so, because first she had to stop by her room to get her jacket.  She thought it might be rude to ask Sean to wait downstairs for her - and dangerous, because if the wrong person spotted him with her in the restaurant, they would target him and probably kill him.  So he tagged along as she went for the jacket.

    Keiko paused at the door to her room, and glanced sideways at Sean.  “Wait here,”  she said, in almost a warning tone, as she unlocked the door without looking.

    Her new jacket was in one of the bags, because it was warmer when she arrived at the hotel.  She went through a frantic search of them to find the black leather jacket, and finally pulled it out.  Then she returned to the hallway.

    The cool wind hit Keiko as soon as she went outside, and she realized the Bay Area’s climate was cooler than she was used to further down south.  The jacket was barely enough, and she had to put her hands in her pockets to keep them warm.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“You okay?”  Sean asked.  He wore a synthetic windbreaker, so he was a little better off.  He didn’t seem to worry about his ears or hands getting cold, though.

    She nodded.  “Let’s keep this short, though.  Tell me about you.”

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m here for a convention and vacation at the same time, except you’re the first person I’ve had any fun with since I got here.”

    There was another yelling noise, similar to the one in the restaurant, near the bar, only this came from just one person.  Keiko rolled her eyes, thinking she can’t go anywhere to get any peace and quiet in this town.  Then something told her to turn around.  Something about the yell, and what it sounded like was said.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“I said,” a man approaching from behind started to say in a threatening tone.

    Keiko didn’t wait for him to finish.  She spun around and kicked him high and hard in the chest, throwing his balance off, so a second later he was lying on the ground on his back - she didn’t even remove her hands from her jacket pockets.  There was a loud clink as the knife he was holding fell to the ground, and tumbled into the street.

    Sean stood over him and frowned.  “Idiot, you know you just tried to rob a cop?”

    The man tried to scramble away, but as soon as he unstably returned to his feet, Keiko moved again and tripped him, so he landed on his face.

    Ã¢â‚¬Å“Who sent you?”  she asked.  She didn’t think anyone did, but just in case, she would carefully gauge his answer.

    And that answer was just gibberish as the man looked into Keiko’s cold eyes, and became afraid that he was going to get worse than arrested and jail.  That confirmed he didn’t work for anyone.

    This time, when he scrambled away, Keiko didn’t stop him.  He didn’t even go back for his knife.

    When she looked at Sean again, he was smiling.  “I have a question or two for you.”


TO BE CONTINUED?
    


-- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2012 by Jason Froikin, and may not be 
--    reprinted without permission.  
-- World Class and all characters therein are property of 
--    Strike Two and Jason Froikin.

Having spent a lot of time proofreading my own stuff recently, I couldn't help noticing the good ways of handlong dialogue and slipping in background story in this chapter. Mature technique, comes only with a lot of practice.

What's funny is I started doing that as an experiment during the new Supergirl fan-fiction story and bled it into other new stories because I liked the flow of it better than the straight-line conversational style.