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Feb-9-2007 16:26

Miss Violet Parr smiled politely at the beggar who nearly bumped into her as she walked as fast as she possibly could through the streets of New York. Though Miss Parr felt sick to the stomach, she managed to smile at someone most people around her managed to ignore. The man, puzzled, looked at her from behind his shoulder as he walked away.

Adamant that she should not physically run into another person or, worse yet, an automobile, Violet Parr sat on the steps of a rundown bakery. Her mind twirled with the thoughts that attacked it when she was checking out of the Broadway Plaza Hotel.

She braced herself and tried very hard to empty her mind from thoughts… She could not…

Violet Parr was very good at escaping her present moments. She easily drifted away in thought, though she always attempted to conceal her daydreaming as much as possible. Nevertheless, she could never escape the past. Thoughts of her last visit to New York crept into her mind despite her.

She glanced at the New York streets and sidewalks absentmindedly as her mind dragged her back into the alleys of her memory.

Feb-9-2007 16:37

Her memory was cut short-

Miss Parr was startled as a man came out of the rundown Bakery behind her. “Can I help you Miss? You’re blocking the entrance.”

Miss Parr turned to see a man that looked very much like a Baker. “Oh, how very thoughtless of me… I’m sorry...” She got up and walked away with a smile on her face.

She was glad to see someone who did not look suspicious, but very, very ordinary for a change.

Feb-10-2007 11:53

He smiled at her as he walked out of the bakery with the cake safely wrapped in its box.

"She did seem to be everywhere," he thought to himself. "Of course that purple color did make her stand out as well as her dark tresses. "

He shook his head, good that people were paying attention to things now a days. Hopefully there would be even more to see soon.

Feb-12-2007 04:01

Miss Violet Parr entered her cabin right before the ship she was onboard set sail for England. She dropped her suitcase flatly to the floor and collapsed on the paltry single bed the cabin had to offer. She opened her eyes and allowed herself to stare blankly at the ceiling. She still had not escaped the conversation she overheard some time ago at Mr. Georges’ office.

It was all a blur in retrospect. She could not decipher the difficult dialogue in its entirety. Yet she is almost certain that she heard the name ‘Barry’ and the words ‘Murder’ & ‘Death’. The name Barry was said in broken English, and she, to this day, recalls Mr. Frank Georges’ side glance towards her when the name was muttered.

“Miss Parr…” she remembers being told as she left Frank Georges’ office. “Please ignore anything you think you’ve understood here today.”

She remembers uttering a simple meaningless phrase. “You can trust in my discretion Mr. Georges.”

She did not think much of it at first, but when the famous detective Barry Grant –the only Barry she knew of- disappeared and was later hospitalized, she decided to make her way back to New York and warn him of grave danger she herself was not entirely sure about.

She noticed during her walk to the docks that the Marquee Theatre had been shut down finally, but wondered about the existence for any ulterior motives for that occurrence. Mr. Georges seemed to have been a powerful, well-connected man who would not at all need to shut down his baby –as she heard him refer to the Marquee Theatre many times.

If it was indeed Mr. Barry Grant the two men were referring to, what on earth would be the connection between Mr. Georges and Mr. Grant? She understood that a famous working detective, no matter how polite he or she could be, will inevitably make many enemies along the way. Nevertheless, she could not bring herself to believe that Barry Grant would indeed have enemies.

Feb-12-2007 04:02

All of the sudden she recalled the Broadway Plaza Hotel, and the hoax created to keep her at it for as long as possible. Her memory then shot to Sahira Quadir, who looked Arabic and had an Arab name which translated to ‘Sorceress’.

Could she have been connected to that man she saw at Mr. Georges’ office? What was she doing at the Broadway Plaza, the same hotel where Mr. Grant was? Could Miss Sahira have wished him ill? Worse yet, wish her ill?

She sat up and looked out her window towards the ocean… Perhaps she could put it all behind her once she arrives to London. After all, in her city of fog anything can be forgotten or lost… even an unpleasant, worrying memory.

Feb-13-2007 22:02

British War Office
Intelligence Division
Bletchley Park, just outside London

Douglas Sullivan pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut in disbelief, then read the dispatch again. Doug looked up from reading the coded telegraph message and at his colleague, Charlie Cobbe, who was sitting at a nearby desk patiently waiting. "She slipped through the dragnet in New York!"

Charlie's feet came crashing off the desk, "What?!"

Doug handed him the slip. "Some idiot purser on the Oceania let himself get sweet-talked by Violet Parr into letting her on board the ship! She's due here in London tomorrow morning.

Charlie read through the telegraph slowly, rubbing his stubbled chin as he studied it. He glanced up at Doug, "Looks like we get to go fishin' tomorrow."

Doug ran his hand wearily through his dark hair. "That woman has the best luck on the planet." He looked at Charlie morosely, "You read what happened to Sahira?"

A glacial tint to Charlie's light blue eyes was his only reaction, "Mmm."

Doug's emerald eyes were dark with anger, "You think whoever's after her'll be daft enough to do it again tomorrow?"

Charlie shrugged imperceptibly, "I know I don't wanna be ta daft bugger t' underestimate these blokes ag'in, whoever they are, or that bird, fer that matter." His thick accent sounded British, but could've been from any of a dozen different Commonwealth territories.

Doug nodded, then reached for the telephone on the desk, "Get me the Yard, please." He covered the mouthpiece as he waited for the connection to go through, "Wouldn't hurt to have some friends along to watch our backs on our sharkhunt tomorrow."

Charlie's mouth curled up slightly at that...

Feb-13-2007 23:02

(Early the next morning....)
The London Docks
Pier #17

Fog blanketed much of the water, making visibility mediocre at best. The four men sitting in an unoccupied corner of the Harbormaster's Office, located in a second story warehouse above the docks, were blissfully unaffected by the damp cold at that moment as they carefully observed the already hectic bustle of dockworkers, passengers, tourists, and wharf rats dashing about below them.

One of the men pointed a stubby finger at the windowglass, "There. By t' gangplank. T' lout not doin' nowt, just standin' there."

The other three men nodded, noting the man's clothes and appearance. "That makes four," Doug murmured. They continued searching. Some minutes later, Charlie spotted a fifth man wandering aimlessly amongst the crowd.

Just then, they heard a ship-to-shore radio call from down the corridor. It was the Oceania, announcing its arrival into port. Doug looked at the other men, "Okay, there's our boat." He turned to the two plainclothesed Scotland Yard detectives, "Evan, will you and Nigel deal with the two goons we spotted over by that warehouse? Charlie and Murphy will take the others. I'll get the girl, and get her outta here, in case there's more people we haven't spotted. Remember, disable 'em if you can, take 'em down if you have to. We need the girl alive at all costs."

At Evan's silent nod, Doug checked his gun, leaving it unbuckled in his shoulder holster, then looked around at the others who were also checking their various weapons. "All set? Good, then let's do it." Silently, the four men slipped out the back of the Harbormaster's Office, down the stairs, and into the noisy crowd....

Feb-13-2007 23:54

Fifteen minutes later, Doug waited patiently for the gangplank to be rolled over to the now-docked Oceania. So far, things had gone just as planned. The Brits, Evan and Nigel, had both detained their targets with few people being any the wiser. Charlie and Murphy had been even more stealthy. One second, they'd slipped out of the fog next to each of their targets. The next, both captors and prey had completely vanished.

Doug smiled furtively as he watched the passengers waiting to disembark from the ship. He spied a woman dressed entirely in purple, with a violet scarf wrapped around her head, carrying a small suitcase near the front of the line. 'Not exactly being subtle, is she,' he thought to himself, as he slipped into the shadows off to one side of the gangplank corridor to wait.

Miss Violet Parr hurried down the gangway, eager to be off the ship and back home in London. She was exhausted from the long trip and bad weather across the Atlantic, and from being confined in her tiny cabin the whole time. Suddenly, a hand wrapped firmly around her elbow.

"Darling! I've missed you!" a low male American voice murmured beside her.

Violet whirled around in stunned shock to find a tall, dark-haired, emerald-eyed man dressed neatly in an expensive three-piece suit and overcoat strolling beside her. "Who ARE you?" she whispered.

"Darling?" he replied, wounded, "You don't recognize your own fiancee? How could you?"

"WHAT?" Violet shrieked.

Doug chuckled silently to himself, then saw her glance wildly about, and felt her arm tense as she prepared to strike out at him, and he squeezed his hand around her arm bruisingly. "DON'T!" he growled lowly.

Feb-14-2007 00:47

He shook her slightly, making her focus on him again. "I'm your only chance of getting out of here alive right now. My people have already taken out five of your friends who were waiting here to kill you. There's probably more somewhere in the crowd. If you want to live through the next ten minutes, play along, dammit!” he rumbled as he pulled her through the mob.

Violet stumbled after him, too numb from exhaustion and anxiety to respond.

Doug gentled his grip on her arm slightly as he led her through the crowd down the quay, but didn't trust her enough to release her entirely. He pretended to banter back and forth with her for whomever might be watching them, asking her about her trip, and if she'd like lunch at the Savoy Grill before they headed for home.

He noticed as Charlie came up on the other side of Violet, gazing about at the crowd for anything suspicious. A moment later, he saw Evan come up in front of him, and glanced quickly over his shoulder to see Nigel bringing up the rear. She was now flanked by agents on all sides, and was as protected as was possible.

Several minutes later, the crowd began to thin as they reached the end of the wharf, and Violet finally noticed the other men accompanying them. She looked up at the stranger in confusion, "Who're these men?"

Doug smiled at her, "Your bodyguards, Darling. They're the good guys."

He glanced at Charlie as the group approached a car, "Where's Murphy?"

Charlie tilted his head at a neighboring lorry as he unlocked the car and stowed Violet's suitcase in the boot, "Watchin' over the sleepin' beauties, mate. They should be fine for a bit."

Doug nodded, then held the door open for Violet, "After you, Darling."

Violet glared at him distrustfully, "Where are you taking me?"

Doug glared back, "Somewhere safe. Captain Ridley has a hunting lodge nearby, and we have some questions that need answering. Are you getting in, or do I need to 'cuff you?"

Feb-14-2007 00:54

Violet huffed irritably, but slid into the back seat of the car. Maybe she could get away from this lodge, wherever it was. And who in the world was Captain Ridley?

The four agents climbed in after her, Charlie at the wheel, and drove off quickly into the London fog....

Feb-14-2007 01:32

(Back at Bletchley Park, just outside London....)

Doug and Charlie guided Miss Parr through a maze of corridors and hallways in the old mansion. Leading her down a wide flight of stairs, they went through another warren of offices and passageways, coming finally to a heavy wooden door. They went in without bothering to knock. Inside was a starkly furnished office, bare of windows and the most basic of decorations. A second door was built into the opposite wall from the entry.

Doug waved Violet to one of the two simple wooden chairs in the room, "Please have a seat, Miss Parr. I'm sorry we don't have anything more comfortable for you at the moment."

Violet ignored him, interrupting him, "Who are you? Why am I here?"

Doug reached into his left-hand inner suitjacket pocket and pulled out a badge, showing it to Violet, "Douglas Samson, United States Office of Strategic Services." He tilted his head at Charlie, "That's Charles Cochran, His Majesty's Australian Secret Service." Charlie nodded silently in greeting at her.

"You're here because we believe you have information is vital to the safety of the United States, her Allies, and the people working to defend them from harm," he continued. "Several days ago, you gained illegal entry to a classified government facility, and spoke with a man there. He's been working for us. You remember Barry Grant, don't you, Miss Parr?"

Violet paled slightly, then sniffed dismissively at Mr. 'Samson'. "Names can be faked, Sir. Badges can be forged. How do I know you're really who you say who you are? How do I know you're not going to kill me if I talk?"

Doug pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in exasperation at Violet. Then he looked up at Charlie, "She thinks WE'RE the ones out to get her."

Charlie shrugged, "Mebbe she'll believe the Boss," and nodded at the other closed door.