Eva shook her head. “I did the guy. You know, the guy with the thing.” She waved her hand to her side. “The arm thing.”
Bishop’s well-manicured features broke into a scowl. “That wasn’t the last one.”
“It totally was.”
“Do you not,” the man’s confusion hadn’t dissipated one iota, “see the gun? What are you talking about?”
Bishop waved an index finger in the air. “I think it’s you, Nash. We can’t seem to decide ourselves.”
Shaking his head, Nash replied, “Pacificism, remember?”
His protestations notwithstanding, Nash realised the others weren’t positioned correctly.
Raising an index finger on his free hand, the not-humble-waiter interjected, “Whatever you lot are on about, I wa—”
Nash struck like a cobra. One instant the gun was in the man’s hand, the next it was in Nash’s. Before the shock had fully formed on his face, Nash followed through with a bone-crunching elbow to the side of his head. It was more of a reflex than a conscious decision.
As the man he hit the floor, out cold, Nash offered a weak, “Sorry.”
Hefting an eyebrow, Bishop eyed the gun in Nash’s hand. “This pacifism thing of yours seems quite fluid, I must say.”
“It’s a matter of degrees.”
The comment amused Bishop. “How so?”
Motioning to the prone man, Nash replied, “There was a time I would have just snapped his neck.”
“And yet, I’m not sure he’s going to wake up and thank you.”
“The fact he can thank me or not is proof of my evolution. All I can do is be the best I can in the present moment. That’s all any of us can hope to do. The real test of nonviolence lies in being brought into contact with those who have contempt for it. Mahatma Gandhi said that.”
Eva looked out the window. “What do you think?”
“I think anyone who quotes Gandhi is smarter than I am.” Bishop smirked.
Groaning good-naturedly, Eva replied, “I meant about our friends outside.” Her eyes scanned the grey streets. “It would have been good to keep him conscious. How are we going to ask him questions now?”
“With his friends outside somewhere, I doubt we’d have had much of an opportunity.” Nash slipped the Beretta into the back of his jeans under his jacket.
“The man makes a good point,” Bishop conceded.
All three had their game faces on. Whoever was after them, they were armed, well manned and proficient in the ways of espionage. How else could they have traced them to the remote bar even before they’d arrived? They were no slouches, therefore they had to be treated as worthy adversaries, and—Nash felt the weight of the Beretta—likely deadly ones.
Eva took a hair tie from her pocket and tied her hair into a ponytail, a move Nash recognised as showing she meant business. Bishop picked up two cheese knives from a nearby tray. Nash’s hand rested on the pistol under his jacket. They opened the glass door.
Even with the grey clouds, there were still a smattering of people on the streets. Frequent cars entered the roundabout. A train could be heard as it forged its way through the rail trench nearby.
The three turned left towards the station. They made it all of five steps. On each side of the road stood two pairs of thick-set men. All wore similar long black coats. All sported an intensity and stared directly at the three of them.
“Maybe we should…” Eva thumbed in the other direction.
“Good call.”
The three quietly headed away from the black-coats, across the bridge over the rail trench. They didn’t make it far before they saw another set of four black-coats coming the other way. They couldn’t go forward. They couldn’t go back. They were trapped, with the black-coats closing in.
“I have a proposal.” Nash eyed the nearby station. A train’s horn sounded as passengers disembarked. “And I don’t think either of you are going to like it.”
Eva was the first to cotton on. Her face instantly changed. Nash wasn’t sure if she liked the idea or not.
“Oh, get fucked.” She shook her head. “Get royally fucked with a corgi.”
Nash was reasonably certain she didn’t like the idea.
“What…” Bishop started before his face morphed as well. “You can’t be serious? See those things? They’re electrical wires. And the train? They move!”
Nash heard another horn, indicating the train was about to depart. They didn’t have long.
“It’s just about to leave the station, it’s not at full speed.” The words sounded uncertain, even to his own ears.
“And when it is at full speed?” Eva asked.
“Hold on and hope for the best.” Nash grimaced. “That’s always been my philosophy in life.”
The black-coats walked faster, as if sensing what was about to transpire. Nash was the first to move. Rushing to the railing, he hoisted one leg over, followed by the other. There was a small ridge at the base of the overpass and he held both hands on the railing, leaning into the void. Eva and Bishop reluctantly followed suit, bunching together about the width of a train carriage.
The train left the station.
The black-coats broke into a run.
