Ana, Assasin of the Mafia; Chapter 5

by Maryam in A Land Of Desert And Sun

Ana licked her lips and glanced behind her left shoulder nervously, scanning the road. It was about 1 and a half hours since she first started out, and she was probably already being tracked. You could never know whether or not the Mafia we tracing you, but it was safer to think they were. Her eyes took in the street as long as she could, then went back to the road in front of her. She hesitated, then glanced in the rearview mirror at her hostage. His smouldering eyes met hers with barely contained anger, and she instinctively looked away, shaken. OK, she instructed herself, do not look in the back again. Instead, she concentrated on the road in front of her and sighed to herself. What had she gotten herself into? This was just plain madness.
Abruptly, Ana pulled over. She got out. Then she opened the backseat. 'I'm sorry,' she told the guy.
'It was either this or you'd be dead. So please, stop looking at me like that. I started this, and I'm sorry for you. But I can't let you go. That is,' she stopped and glanced at him, 'Unless you want to be murdered within the hour.'
Ana slammed the car door and let herself in the front seat. Only then did she let herself look at the guy in the back seat. He was looking at her with a mixture of pity and resentment. Then he looked away and she clicked the gears and started driving again.

Ana was checking the road, looking for a diner to eat at, or at least something edible. Her stomach growled and she was checking her watch again, shaking it with impatience. They had been driving for 4 hours and had gone only about 350 kilometers but came to city she was driving through. Spotting a car dealership, she quickly wheeled into the parking lot. She went to the back and untied the guy's ropes. 'If you escape, you are dead,' she whispered into his ear. He nodded soundlessly, eyes checking the place out, hands rubbing his sore, red, chaffed wrists. She steered him to the waiting room inside the dealership, then sat him down on one of the chairs. 'Louie!' she called. A big, hulking man strode into the room, wiping his oil-stained hands on a rag, saw her, and smiled broadly. 'Ana!' he said, stepping forward to shake her hand. 'Louie,' she replied, smiling, 'How are you? Listen,' she said, 'I need a small, inconspicuous car that will take us to New York City in exchange for a white limo. Can do?' 'Sure,' he responded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. 'On a job?' Ana shook her head ruefully. 'You have no idea.'

Twenty minutes later, she was on the road again, stomach comfortably full with a modest cheese sandwich, driving a 'small, inconspicuous' 2001 not-so-spotless white Toyota that had a lot of scratches on the left side. Not such a fair trade for a 30,000 dollar limo, she thought, shaking her head. But it was something. Louie had given her a map to New York City and hopefully she'd know the way without having any trouble. She had retied the hostage in the back but had left his mouth ungagged. Not that he was using it, just staring out of the window mutely. She broke the silence abruptly.
'Excuse me,' she said, 'Have you ever been to New York City? By car?' He nodded. 'Do you remember the way?' 'Sure.' First time he'd spoken. 'Then you'll have to tell me the way. I know nothing about driving anywhere.' 'Fine.' They drove on for a while still in silence.
'Was your dad - Richard Urban?' He shook his head. 'My uncle.' Ana exhaled a bit. 'What's your name?' He glanced at her, surprised. 'Paul Urban.' 'Oh.' Silence again.
'What's yours?' It was her turn to be surprised; he had never started any questions.
'Ana. Just Ana.'

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OK, I hope this makes up for the super-short chappie 4. Comments, please!