Free Operation Zulu Redemption: Out of Nowhere - Part 2 by Ronie Kendig

Hours
    Trace could not have designed a more perfect nightmare. What were the odds that one of his elite female operatives would cross paths with The Turk? And not just cross paths. The Turk had followed her. Somehow seen her as a threat.
    “Act casual,” Trace said, catching Téya’s hand in his and praying she didn’t misinterpret the move. “We’re a couple.”
    Gratefully, the 5’9” woman didn’t hesitate. They cleared the ticket area and he walked straight toward the platform where their train to Calais waited. Even as he moved with ease, he remained watchful, scanning the sides of the station. Looking for anyone
not
moving. Anyone on the hunt. Anyone watching them. . .
too casually.
    “Hard not to think of Jason Bourne,” Téya said as they made their way around the cluster of umbrella tables littering the walkway.
    Trace frowned at her.
    “The sniper. . .in the train station.”
    “That was Waterloo,” Trace said. “And as long as you don’t panic and make a break for it, we’ll be fine.” He meant it to be funny, but the intensity rolling off Téya was almost palpable. “Relax.”
    The terse eyebrows and taut lips softened.
    Then Trace stiffened. Saw a man in a baseball cap. He’d seen him back at the entrance. Trace diverted to a small café and got in line.
    “What are we doing?” Téya asked, her voice low. “They just announced our train.”
    “Ordering hot dogs.” He stuffed a few bills in her hand. “I’ll be right back.”
    “No,” Téya hissed and went rigid.
    But Trace slipped away into a crowd of tourists standing near the café. He worked his way through them, marking the target with each maneuver. Keeping his eyes on the target. Wishing for his team, for backup. Easing his way around the upper platform, Trace ignored the gnawing in his gut as the target closed in on Téya. He resisted the urge to rush. To move too quickly and draw attention.
    The target entered the eating area but remained enough on the perimeter for Trace’s plan to work. He rushed up behind the target, slipped an arm around his neck, and applied pressure. The man struggled for a few seconds as Trace increased the pressure, not enough to kill the man, but knock him out.
    As the man went limp, bystanders noticed them. Trace met the eyes of one man. “Help,” he said, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulder and easing him into a chair. “He was sick—dizzy. Call for the police!”
    Almost immediately, people surrounded them.
    “I’m a doctor,” one woman said as she knelt beside the target, checking for a pulse. “What happened?”
    “He felt faint. I saw him sway,” Trace said, shifting to the back of the crowd that pressed in. In a few steps, he was clear. He rushed to where he’d left Téya by the café with the yellow and red umbrellas.
    But she wasn’t there.
    Panic lit through him. He spun. Scanned the area. Nothing but tables, umbrellas, people, luggage, and workers. Branches rustled hard in one corner.
    Trace’s heart climbed into his throat.
Téya!
He threw himself in that direction, skidding around the corner as Téya slammed her foot into the stomach of someone, who doubled over her leg. Caught it. Drove Téya backward.
    Overhead, he heard the station call for their train. Five minutes.
    Trace slammed a hard right into the man’s temple.
    He flung to the side, his head bouncing off the wall. The guy dropped, stunned. Disoriented. Clumsily struggled to all fours.
    Trace spun Téya toward the stairs to the platform. “Go go!”

Téya
Paris, France
28 May – 0015 Hours
    The metal stairs rattled beneath her feet as Téya sped down them to the platform. Trace was two steps ahead of her, but she was gaining fast. She jumped, skipping the last three steps, and ran to the train car. Trace jolted to a stop and she bypassed him, but he caught her hand and tugged her back. She swung around and into the Eurostar train.
    Trace moved with purpose through the train, though he wasn’t running