Past and Present
Chapter 21
They landed in Ireland near midnight. The sky was nearly pitch black, and for that the group was grateful. They moved quickly and silently to bury the inflatable, and they got a move on.
They had beached close to a small fishing village. The group stole into the town and were able to steal a car. There was a tense moment were it seemed the unfortunate owner was going to discover them, but he went back in. Silently Jack thought it was probably better for the man, seeing as the terrorists would have killed him in an instant. They drove until they came upon Youghal, where they abandoned the car.
In Youghal they checked into one of the less reputable hotels, and stayed there for the rest of the day. When it was dark again, they left the hotel and met with a UFR member. He was a fat man with a large mustache, and he stuffed them into the bed of a pickup truck and buried them under a mound of hay.
He drove them all the way to Dublin; he went extremely slowly. When they finally arrived in Dublin, he dumped them off and drove away without saying a word. Jack inquired about the man's rude behavior.
The women answered, "He's just sour that I left him a few years ago. To be honest he needs to move on."
"You have relations with subordinates?" Michael asked surprised.
"I do what I want," came the cold reply. "And if you're wondering why I would be with someone who so obviously doesn't take good care of himself, it's because I didn't. He coped with our break up by eating."
"That's a lot of information," said Jack.
"Why do you care?"
"You just seem a little... unprofessional," he said hesitantly. "Which is the opposite of how you were on the ship."
"That was work."
"And this isn't?" Jack said.
"Quiet," the big man had finally spoken. There was silence for the rest of the walk through Dublin's streets.
They arrived at a small house in the outskirts of town. The woman walked up to the door and knocked in a seemingly innocuous way. A voice with a dutch came from inside the home, "Who is it?"
"It's Lise, Lise Villameur," the French women said.
All was silent for a moment. Then the door swung wide open to reveal the figure of a small, mousy man. He was in his late sixties, but had only recently begun to bald. He wore large horn-rimmed glasses that rather dominated his face.
"Lise!" He exclaimed, and he grabbed here shoulders lightly and kissed here on the cheeks. "It's been ages since you've been in Dublin. But, why are you here? I was told nothing of your arrival. Did something go wrong?"
"No, no my dear Johan," Lise said quickly. "Something very good has happened. We need for you to arrange transportation to France."
"We?" Johan looked out the door. He peered at the men accompanying Lise. Recognition was in his face when he saw the big man, but he looked baffled at Michael and Jack. Suddenly he seemed to start, and he peered closer at Michael. Almost to himself, he mumbled, "I know that face."
Jack hurriedly said, "Would you let us in, old man. It's freezing out here."
"Ah of course, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself, I am Johan Hartjes. Welcome to my home."
They trudged into his home, thankful to be out of the cold wind. It was a small abode; there were only a few rooms, but it was a nice place. It was cozy and filled with books and papers, the sort of home you would expect an absent-minded professor to inhabit. Johan led them into the main room which contained a coffee table and several chairs around it.
He insisted that they sit down so he could give them tea. They drank tea in silence, as the elderly man fussed over them like a granny. Michael would have expected Lise to be less than accepting of this, but she seemed to enjoy it, humoring the old man.
When they finally finished the tea they got to business, "You said you need to get to France?" Johan said.
"Yes, and as quickly as possible." Lise replied.
"If you're willing to risk a flight, I can have you there day after tomorrow."
"I'm not sure a flight would be worth it, at this point. It will be rather hard to get through the airport, unless you have a private plane in mind."
"That I do indeed Lise. But I know that neither you nor our large friend here have any flying experience at all." At this gestured to Lise's large companion. "Unless one of your new friends can fly, it will be quite a while before we have someone for you."
"What happened to the pilots stationed in Dublin?" Lise asked worriedly.
Johan's face darkened at this. "So you have not heard the news, eh?" He sighed, "They all deserted, along with a large chunk of our mercenaries throughout Ireland. It seems there is someone new hunting us, recently surfaced. He's only known as Arthur. He had already stopped and arrested several of our operatives, when the desertion occured. Those still with us are the suicidal ones, and the old ones like me who know nothing else."
Michael perked up at this. He had been barely keeping up with the conversation until Arthur was mentioned. Could it be...?
"I can fly," came Jack's voice.
"Be that as it may, we don't trust you yet," said Lise.
"It seems like you don't have a lot of choice."
"If you cross us-," Lise said. "I think you know the rest."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had planned to put out another gameplay update, but the fates were aligned against me.
Also something of note, this was typed in the middle of my pointless typing class and has not really been edited.
P.S. Give yourself 10 points if you caught the semi-obscure reference to a franchise-ruining game.
Chapter 21
They landed in Ireland near midnight. The sky was nearly pitch black, and for that the group was grateful. They moved quickly and silently to bury the inflatable, and they got a move on.
They had beached close to a small fishing village. The group stole into the town and were able to steal a car. There was a tense moment were it seemed the unfortunate owner was going to discover them, but he went back in. Silently Jack thought it was probably better for the man, seeing as the terrorists would have killed him in an instant. They drove until they came upon Youghal, where they abandoned the car.
In Youghal they checked into one of the less reputable hotels, and stayed there for the rest of the day. When it was dark again, they left the hotel and met with a UFR member. He was a fat man with a large mustache, and he stuffed them into the bed of a pickup truck and buried them under a mound of hay.
He drove them all the way to Dublin; he went extremely slowly. When they finally arrived in Dublin, he dumped them off and drove away without saying a word. Jack inquired about the man's rude behavior.
The women answered, "He's just sour that I left him a few years ago. To be honest he needs to move on."
"You have relations with subordinates?" Michael asked surprised.
"I do what I want," came the cold reply. "And if you're wondering why I would be with someone who so obviously doesn't take good care of himself, it's because I didn't. He coped with our break up by eating."
"That's a lot of information," said Jack.
"Why do you care?"
"You just seem a little... unprofessional," he said hesitantly. "Which is the opposite of how you were on the ship."
"That was work."
"And this isn't?" Jack said.
"Quiet," the big man had finally spoken. There was silence for the rest of the walk through Dublin's streets.
They arrived at a small house in the outskirts of town. The woman walked up to the door and knocked in a seemingly innocuous way. A voice with a dutch came from inside the home, "Who is it?"
"It's Lise, Lise Villameur," the French women said.
All was silent for a moment. Then the door swung wide open to reveal the figure of a small, mousy man. He was in his late sixties, but had only recently begun to bald. He wore large horn-rimmed glasses that rather dominated his face.
"Lise!" He exclaimed, and he grabbed here shoulders lightly and kissed here on the cheeks. "It's been ages since you've been in Dublin. But, why are you here? I was told nothing of your arrival. Did something go wrong?"
"No, no my dear Johan," Lise said quickly. "Something very good has happened. We need for you to arrange transportation to France."
"We?" Johan looked out the door. He peered at the men accompanying Lise. Recognition was in his face when he saw the big man, but he looked baffled at Michael and Jack. Suddenly he seemed to start, and he peered closer at Michael. Almost to himself, he mumbled, "I know that face."
Jack hurriedly said, "Would you let us in, old man. It's freezing out here."
"Ah of course, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself, I am Johan Hartjes. Welcome to my home."
They trudged into his home, thankful to be out of the cold wind. It was a small abode; there were only a few rooms, but it was a nice place. It was cozy and filled with books and papers, the sort of home you would expect an absent-minded professor to inhabit. Johan led them into the main room which contained a coffee table and several chairs around it.
He insisted that they sit down so he could give them tea. They drank tea in silence, as the elderly man fussed over them like a granny. Michael would have expected Lise to be less than accepting of this, but she seemed to enjoy it, humoring the old man.
When they finally finished the tea they got to business, "You said you need to get to France?" Johan said.
"Yes, and as quickly as possible." Lise replied.
"If you're willing to risk a flight, I can have you there day after tomorrow."
"I'm not sure a flight would be worth it, at this point. It will be rather hard to get through the airport, unless you have a private plane in mind."
"That I do indeed Lise. But I know that neither you nor our large friend here have any flying experience at all." At this gestured to Lise's large companion. "Unless one of your new friends can fly, it will be quite a while before we have someone for you."
"What happened to the pilots stationed in Dublin?" Lise asked worriedly.
Johan's face darkened at this. "So you have not heard the news, eh?" He sighed, "They all deserted, along with a large chunk of our mercenaries throughout Ireland. It seems there is someone new hunting us, recently surfaced. He's only known as Arthur. He had already stopped and arrested several of our operatives, when the desertion occured. Those still with us are the suicidal ones, and the old ones like me who know nothing else."
Michael perked up at this. He had been barely keeping up with the conversation until Arthur was mentioned. Could it be...?
"I can fly," came Jack's voice.
"Be that as it may, we don't trust you yet," said Lise.
"It seems like you don't have a lot of choice."
"If you cross us-," Lise said. "I think you know the rest."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had planned to put out another gameplay update, but the fates were aligned against me.
Also something of note, this was typed in the middle of my pointless typing class and has not really been edited. P.S. Give yourself 10 points if you caught the semi-obscure reference to a franchise-ruining game.
