He made himself comfortable in his seat. Leaning against the backrest close towards the window. The yellow morning sun warmed his face gently. His dark green eyes wandered in the distance on the landscapes of Switzerland. Green pastures and rich golden crops. Woods and towns passing by in the distance as the bus drives on the highway. In the bus, nearly all the people held a conversation with their sitting neighbour, sleeping or listening to music through earplugs and reading some book. Phillip was the only one just watching out the window. While his appearance was relaxed, he actually wasn't. His heart pounded of fear of getting caught. His mind wondered how to escape in case a spy would be on the bus, and then if he arrives safely at his destination Basel what happens next? Whenever he heard a person standing up and walking down the small aisle. His eyes quickly turned towards the empty seat beside him. But it was always a person who needed to go to the bathroom.569Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMTvA9vDh87
Damn am I on edge! No wonder after six weeks getting chased day and night. Trained spies after me and I, an ordinary citizen running for his life. Well, some life! It was a misunderstanding; I didn't shoot the agent. I saved his life; I didn't kill him! I can't shake loose of those pictures, like a film repeating again and again in my head day and night. If I tell the others, they won't believe a word of it. If only the agent were alive and can reveal the truth, then I won't be here unless on vacation.
Phillip sighed and leaned his heavy head against the window. Outside beyond the highway in the air, Phillip noticed a bird, a falcon soaring high on the clear blue sky. Slowly his frowning lips curved to a small contented grin.
I wish could be free as that falcon. No spies after me. No rules telling me what to do or shouldn't. No great care in this world but for food and shelter. My, what a view this bird must-have. It must be beautiful up there.
Phillip sighed while he is focused on the falcon. Admiring its elegant beats of the wings and the colourful appearance of the feathers. Striped in black and white with big chocolate brown flecks on the back and having strong yellow and sharp talons. Suddenly it dived down with its sharp beak cutting through the air heading by the second closer to the ground. Close before hitting the ground, it spread its wings and swooped down to claw a mouse from the grass with its talons.
Suddenly Phillip's view was cut off by something black, and lights flickered in a rhythmic interval as the bus continued to drive. It was a tunnel. Phillip crossed his arms of disappointment. There was a frowning on his young manly clean-shaven face. A thin scar was visible above his left eyebrow cutting through it, down behind his eye and over a part of his cheek. A scar he received while escaping from a spy by crawling under the barbed wire fence in North America. One of the many pictures that he sees again and again in his head. His hands balled into fists. Ahead of the bus, he saw the end of the tunnel and soon saw a part of the landscape again but no falcon insight.
After an hour, he arrived at his destination without any trouble, not even traffic jam. Without a word but quick, noticeable glances, Phillip collected his black sports-bag, wore it over his shoulder and headed to the train station Basel. While walking over the last road before entering the station, a feeling of being watched overcame him.
Damn! Don't panic! Panicking is the worst thing to do. Breathe deeply and pretend as if it were nothing, walk normally. If I look around, it's too obvious. I'll act as if being lost; then I'll win plentiful of view and see what tips me off.
He thought while continuing to walk, entering the station. Before him was a rectangular shaped square filled with people and few benches, along the walls were the counters for tickets and exchanges for the money. High above the walls hung old portraits of the Victorian Era, portraying the landscape of Switzerland in soothing warm colours. Directly beside him on the right stands information stand for tourists. One or two yards further was another entrance, nearly like a tunnel, it appeared to the large high ceiled square. Filled with restaurants, bars and shops. Ahead of him nearly across the square were the stairs and escalators heading upwards to the rails. Phillip turned hesitantly to the second entrance, believing he might win a better glance in a shop as a spontaneous plan B. He entered in the next closest shop and pretended to search something specific, beginning to wonder about as if lost. "Fuck." He whispered.
In an aisle in the middle of the room, he saw a man dressed in a suit with a special earplug to his ear, similar to what the bodyguards have. As they noticed each other, they froze on the spot. The scene looked familiar like in the western movies. Both had their legs apart and arms tensed in the air close beside the legs. Phillip's shoulders heaved while the other man remained calm.
Damn it! Fuck it! Damn it! Fuck it!
Quickly the spy holds a finger to the plug and speaks to it his location.
Why am I standing here? Move your fucking arse before it's too late!
Rapidly Phillip sprinted towards the spy. Pushing as hard as his arm could aside from the spy. He heard rattling sounds.
The spy must have hit the shelf.
"Stop! Halt!" The spy cried immediately from behind.
Phillip gave a glance over his shoulder. He was running after him. Phillip ran out of the store and ran right into the opposite side, a restaurant. Sprinting onward past multiple tables and chairs knocked few of the empty chairs over. Soon he spotted the second exit and ran out on the square where the bus halted and further trams. Quickly he stopped and looked around him.
Down to the park that lies beyond the square or down the road on the left?
"There he is!" Called a spy after him from the restaurant.
Immediately Phillip sprinted down the square, across a busy street and into the park. Quickly turned to left running down a deserted street. At the next crossing, he halted.
Where to now? Onward, left or right? Alright, think! What would a stupid person do and smarty pants? If I were stupid I would run onward, just onward. If a smarty pants, to the left or right.
Soon he heard familiar voices of the spies in the distance.
Quick-witted he ran onward then on the next crossing to the left and again to the left. Soon Phillip halted and listened they were out of earshot. He sighed and leaned relaxed against the wall of a building. His chest heaving to his deep breaths. He wiped away the drops of sweat from his brow and headed back to the station. Keeping an eye sharp for any further spies. As he reached the counter for a ticket, everything went smoothly. Paid in cash the ticket and headed to the rails.
No spies till now. Did all of them leave? I hope so. After all, no one is that stupid to return here so soon after what happened. That's why I'm here again so soon because I am stupid.
Thought Phillip suspiciously always throwing back glances. With the escalator he went to his specific rail, a train stood at the rail. At one of the doors ahead of Phillip stood the conductor patiently. Without hesitation, Phillip walked up to him and handed his ticket. Quickly the conductor punched a hole in the ticket, handed it back and welcomed Phillip on board the train to Paris, France. Phillip gave the nod and stepped in. Within the minute, he found an empty seat and made himself comfortable. Patiently he waited for the train to move. Drumming his fingers on his knee and looking out the window.
I hope this train doesn't carry any spies along. Damn! Why did I wait in the shop? Some vain hope that they will bring the news that I am innocent. Some hope, some life. Why did I agree on helping the agent? How could I have been such a fool! I just wanted to help and do the right thing. Unfortunately, it leads me to the opposite direction here. Oh god! I need some time to find out why I am accused of murder. Something is foul, but from whom? The spies never gave me time to think until now. No wonder I'm having trouble with sleeping lately, but where to start? It must be someone from the inside, that means in the USA! I must be crazy! They'll seize me the moment the aeroplane lands at the airport.569Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYa72NlfBYj
Sighed Phillip and looked over the opposite side of the wagon. A young beautiful woman was freshening herself with makeup. Suddenly it snapped in Phillip's mind.
Not as long I'm in disguise and with a false ID! But where can I get a false ID?
Phillip sighed again and let his head rest against the window; his hands were balled to fists...
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