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Post by Sakari Lehtinen on Mar 2, 2005 19:03:32 GMT -5
Sakari extends his hand.
"Sakari Lehtinen. A pleasure, mister Bassarov." I say, noticing that the guy who checks for tickets is now searching through all the seats.
"And if you excuse me, I occasionally get motion sickness. I'll be right back." Sakari stands up and heads into the bathroom, and fills up a little cup with water. He kneels on the floor waiting for the opportune time... Footsteps approach.
I let out a loud, painful vomiting noise, seconds before there's a knock at the door, slowly pouring the water into the toilet.
"Oh god... Oh, okay, hold on.... Just a-" Another loud vomiting noise, followed by more water.
"I'll leave you alone, don't worry about it." Said the voice on the other side of the door. Footsteps trail off in the distance, and I keep it up for a few minutes to sound convincing, before heading back to where Valodya was seated.
"Sorry about that. You're from Russia, then?"
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Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 19:06:57 GMT -5
"Yes I am. I actually don't live far from the Finnish border. Less than 50 km. I assume that is where you come from, Finland, correct?"
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Ian "Mad" Sweeney
Card Carrying Member
IRA Terrorist/Dock Worker
I was born on a storm-swept rock and hate the soft growth of sun-baked lands where there is no frost
Posts: 107
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Post by Ian "Mad" Sweeney on Mar 2, 2005 19:07:44 GMT -5
Mad Sweeney, who had been standing previously, takes the seat that Alexander abandoned.
"' 'Scuse me, I hope you don't mind if I sit here. My feet are fecking killing me. You Russians need to put more fecking benches into your fecking trains, no offence intended," Sweeney says in English.
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Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 2, 2005 19:14:56 GMT -5
Unoffical, but effective. Peter returns the files he removed to their former place, being as careful as he can to make sure they are exactly as they were.
Trent had fingers in everything but there was nothing here to tie him to the computer thing that... "Hold on," Peter says to himself, his eye catching the letter head on one of the papers.
He removes it and skims the materal. "Project Heimdall... this was supposed to be discontinued..." Peter's thoughts are disrupted by a loud click. Peter's blood turns to ice. That was the sound of the door's lock coming undone.
He returns the letter and slides to the edge of the door, kneeling and leaning his head out sightly to look into the main room. When he sees a woman in white ruffles rather than one of the black suited security men he almost laughs with relief.
He waits for the maid to move out of the main room and off to one of the bedrooms before bolting for the door. Opening and closing the door silently is hard but he doesn't think the maid heard it over the sound of the vaccum.
Outside in the hallway Peter lets out the breath he's been holding and heads for the stairs, pulling out his phone as he goes. Deepthroat would want to know about this. "Project Heimdall," Peter mutters to himself, "Much more interesting than a few micro chips..."
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Post by Sakari Lehtinen on Mar 2, 2005 19:18:03 GMT -5
Sakari smiles and turns to Bassarov, then to the newcomer.
"Not to talk on behalf of Mr. Bassarov here, but by all means, take a seat. We're all about sharing." I say, nodding my head.
"Where you headed, lad?" Sakari replies in a somewhat forced Irish accent.
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Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 19:21:44 GMT -5
Bassarov was an exchange student to Ireland and is excited to talk to this Irish stranger.
"Yes, yes, by all means take a seat."
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Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 2, 2005 19:32:51 GMT -5
"Gray, relay this to Deepthroat. I need a supply pick up at Central Station and a one way to Russia. Something new's come up. Besides, I got nothing else to check out on the chip case. When Fred shows again we can see what he found out... assuming he's not dead.
....
No this can't wait. It's about the Rainbow Bridge.
....
Yes! God, get moving already! I'm ditching this line so make sure there's a new one at the pick up."
Peter snaps his phone closed then taps a tiny button on the side of the phone five times in a regular secence. He casually tosses the phone into a barrel in the alley way he's passing down and a moment later there is a hollow bang, followed by a thin line of smoke rising out of the barrel.
"Damn Gray. Am I working alone here!?" Peter lights himself a cigarette and slowly starts making his way towards Grand Central Station. Gray might be thick but he could relay a message. And Deepthroat always worked fast.
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Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 19:35:43 GMT -5
The train stopped at grand Central Station. And Alexander got off and went outside. He needed to find a phone.
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Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 2, 2005 19:41:21 GMT -5
Peter waits for fifteen minutes at the front doors before going inside. He moves to the drop point inside the station and retrieves a locker key from the hiding place.
Key in hand Peter moves to the lockers, working his way through the crowd, until he finds the right one. Inside is a brief case, as usual. A quick check shows it has everything that he asked for.
He put the plane tickets into his inner coat pocket and takes the brief case and closes the locker. He had a few hours before the flight... maybe he should get something to eat. He'd always heard New York's pizza was good...
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Ian "Mad" Sweeney
Card Carrying Member
IRA Terrorist/Dock Worker
I was born on a storm-swept rock and hate the soft growth of sun-baked lands where there is no frost
Posts: 107
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Post by Ian "Mad" Sweeney on Mar 2, 2005 19:42:58 GMT -5
"Well, I'm on my way to Moscow, same as everyone else on this train," Sweeney says, ignoring Sakari's painfully bad accent. If he was allowed to be less inconspicuous on this trip, and if Sakari wasn't just a kid, he probably would have seriously questioned Sakari's mother's virtue, and her possible relations with certain farm animals at this point.
"Don't know why you're calling me a lad boyo, you're only a bit yourself. Your accent could use some work," Sweeney says with a somewhat amused smile.
Sweeney turns to Bassarov.
"Oi, do you know if they serve bevvies here, or do they only give those to the laudy daws in first class?"
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Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 19:45:49 GMT -5
Alex went into a Pizza place and got a slice.
He sat down and looked at his watch. His return train was in about 2 hours. He deicded to screw and just have his jet come pick him up. After his socialist ordeal, he dident want to ride a train agian.
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Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 19:53:49 GMT -5
Bassarov shrugs. "I don't know. They just passed by with the cart an hour ago. I don't expect to see it again." Bassarov says to the Irish traveler.
"So where in Ireland are you from? I spent a semester in County Mayo about two years ago. "
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Gen. Vlad Kolov
Provisional Member
Operations director for ESA
%\1\%
Posts: 98
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Post by Gen. Vlad Kolov on Mar 2, 2005 20:05:01 GMT -5
I enter my office for the day and the situation already looks grim. The world is a mess, as usual, but as of late the situation has been rapidly deteriorating. I decide to keep a close eye on the situation and see if things get worse...
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Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 2, 2005 20:07:15 GMT -5
"Well well," says a voice from behind Alex. Peter is sited behind the man, their backs to each other. Peter has a large slice of pizza half way to his mouth. "Alexander Larson. You should be careful wandering around on your own like this." He takes a bite of pizza, continuing on with his mouth full, "I mean, after all, there's alot of guys out there who don't care for guys like you."
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Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 20:22:05 GMT -5
Alex turns around. I know how to defend myself. Now tell me, how do you know my name?
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