ellectrical | March 2007, Wrong Way

"So let me get this straight –"

That's the important thing, after a job so completely fucked up as this one. Elle can't keep her eyes on her father – she tries, but they snap away to the stained-glass window behind him, the annoyingly loud grandfather clock, the framed photograph on his desk. But aside from her eyes, she stays remarkably still, her hands not even fidgeting every time that clock tic–

"- you found them –"

Just where he'd thought they'd be, after Peter's desperation to see his brother (whom he'd nearly killed) and tell his family he was alive (the same people that let him walk into this in the first place). She'd caught them walking out a back door (talking, Adam handed something to Peter – she knows it's important because her father doesn't mention it now).

"- the Haitian went after Peter –"

The obvious choice. She's not afraid of Peter, but it's easier to hit something that can't hit back.

"- you went after Adam, but you didn't take him out."

Elle doesn't defend herself.

"So he escaped, and Peter and the Haitian just... disappeared?"

The Haitian would be the obvious choice, if he weren't known for his shaky loyalties. Elle really needs a good partner again. She somehow doubts it was the first thing on her father's mind, after this.

He leans back in his chair when Elle doesn't speak, though she's forced her eyes to stay on him now. She really wished it somehow didn't take more effort to meet those eyes than to gaze up at people who wanted to kill her, people who could snap her spine if they nudged too hard. And she wondered if he knew that, if that was why he took so long to speak.

Finally, "If the Haitian's gone, he must have helped Peter escape. What do you think that means?"

Elle doesn't take very long to answer: "He wouldn't take Peter with him."

"Which means he's probably shipped out from the port," her father stands from behind the desk. "And you're going to find out where."

She doesn't ask about Adam Monroe. Her eyes follow as her father begins to collect things – folders, a small black book, that extra pair of glasses –

"Where are you going?"

"Cairo." He looks back up at her. "New recruit."

She recognizes the clipped tone, and turns to leave. But before she makes it out the door –

"Elle –"

That glance back is almost hopeful.

"You should try to get more practice in while I'm gone. We can't afford any more mistakes."

She smiles, despite the admonishment, and heads out the door.