Project Mercy

Chapter 5

After I left Hans in his fake reality, I grabbed the case. Getting changed into a pair of jeans, a shirt and a jacket so I blend in with the people around.

The guards from outside soon came in when Hans wouldn’t pick up his phone, I’d used the knives from the kitchen to incapacitate them, which left them on the floor in a rather horrible state.

Turns out the golden bracelets were trackers, the chips seemed to be only a few millimetres in size which surprised me, seeing as though this man didn’t seem to have any remaining brain cells to actually come up with something useful.

You’d think such a rich and ‘superior’ businessman would be smart enough to bring those white-suited men in with him when they made that deal, it would've saved me the hassle.

I walk down the street with the vials in a black backpack that I’d stolen from an open market in town, nobody suspected a thing as they’re too busy to even notice which was excellent for me of course.

Now, all I had to do was get back to my apartment in America to get those files, but this is easier said than done. I have two major problems, one I didn’t even have my passport with me and two I was now on the run from one of the biggest terrorist organisation in the world. 

The only option I can think of right now was to visit an old friend, which then means taking a train to Croydon. I sigh, the ride from Paddington Station to Croydon directly will take at least an hour which would be too long in one space meaning I would most definitely get caught, but I have no other option.

I cross the road keeping my head down from the security cameras on the traffic lights, the station was only around the corner on Praed Street.

The station was truly remarkable, the curved glass ceiling brings so much light to the open space and the victorian style pillars line the tracks perfectly. All types of people scurry around the platform: people in bright clothing, people in formal suits, people with children, people in casual wear and people who aren’t walking but are using wheelchairs to get around. It’s a very diverse place to be.

As I walk into the station I purposefully walk into a suited man whose wallet is lodged in the side pocket of his trousers.

“ Oh! I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going” I fake laugh taking his wallet from his pocket slipping it into my jacket.

“ Youngsters these days” He shakes his head, walking away.

I turn around walking to the nearest ticket office, I wait in line as a shaggy-haired teen unenthusiastically hands out tickets. The queue shortened fairly quickly as the time passed, I had taken about fifty from the man’s wallet holding it in the palm of my hand.

“Next” The boy mumbles just loud enough for me to hear.

I walk towards the glass, “ One ticket to Croyden please.”

“ Standard or first class” He looks at me blankly.

“Which is cheaper?” I fake a smile but he rolls his eyes.

“ Standard, it’s only seven pounds” 

“I’ll take the standard then, here” I pass him a tenner, while he prints the ticket I take the chance to look around.

No out of place men or women looking dodgy, only men, women, children and some elderly people who’d just sat down on a bench on the platform.

“Here’s your ticket and change,” The boy says, passing them both through a rectangular gap in the glass, I take the ticket but leave the change on the counter.

“Keep the change” I smile, surprisingly a small smile creeps onto his face as he slides the change off the counter into a jar labelled ‘tuition’.