John Wells followed his prey with the single-minded persistence of a shark with the scent of blood in its nose. He'd been chasing the little bitch all over Paris for months. He'd lose her this time over his dead body.
Or hers, if necessary.
He'd first heard of the prize they both sought a year ago. A device that could render a large area completely invulnerable to attack. Some kind of force field - completely childish science fiction crap, but for some reason his superiors believed it was true. If it was true he was going to make damn sure America ended up with it. Not some piss ant terrorist hell hole, and not some ungrateful eurotrash place like this.
He caught a quick flash of a familiar brunette head disappearing through the crowd ahead of him and quickened his pace to catch up. Two large French women carrying bags of baguettes blocked the sidewalk ahead of him. Without a moment's hesitation he reached out between them with his right arm and shoved one out of the way. As he rushed by he was sure he heard her hit the ground behind him with a startled "oof!"
Serves you right, you cow. Lay off the cream cheese!
There she was. Ten meters ahead, still walking quickly. Even with the number of damn Frogs out on the street today he'd have her in thirty seconds. Finally, after all these months. He could actually feel his heart beating faster in anticipation. Like a kid the night before Christmas.
And what a gift this would be. With her back under his control he'd be so close to finishing this mission. So close to capturing the prize and being able to go home, to where there were no foul smelling rude Frogs. Where the women shaved and the men were, well, men.
He did these jobs for his country because he enjoyed them, and, honestly, because there just weren't many people who could do what he did. But after the better part of a year this assignment was getting old. He wanted to go home and breathe American air again. Get away from the damn French and their tree hugging squirrel kissing liberal ideas of how the world should work. Maybe he'd go hunting, just to thumb his nose at all of them. If he wrapped this up soon deer would still be in season when he got home.
Three meters now. One old man doddering along in front of him, but not really in the way. He brushed by the geriatric quickly, and then the girl was right in front of him. He reached out to grab her shoulder--
And she took off running. Wells sighed, sick to death of these games. He reached under his jacket and yanked the pistol from his shoulder holster and aimed it at the fleeing girl. He didn't know how she'd known he was there and didn't really care. All he knew now was that he was through playing her games. She'd gotten away from him for the last time.
But no. He might miss and hit her somewhere more critical than the leg he had in mind. It wouldn't do to kill her just yet. He needed either her, or a complete copy of her notes. Instead he started running after her.
He'd catch her and get what he needed from her without shooting her. To be sure it wasn't going to be a pleasant experience for her, but she'd made the choice. She could have just kept working with him as they had at first. Partners. Instead she decided to betray him and try to claim the prize for herself. He wouldn't let that happen then and he certainly wasn't about to allow it to happen now.
Ahead of him she turned a corner and headed into a square with a large fountain in the middle. The area was crowded with people, mostly locals by the looks of them, and all of them with far too much free time, apparently. Soft people. He'd known plenty of their kind back home. Soft in their bodies, soft in their convictions, or soft in their heads. Or maybe all of them. Weak people, anyway. He'd always been amazed that some of them had thought themselves strong enough for the challenges of life serving the awesome country they lived in.
But at least they were Americans. These soft people didn't have the virtue of good heritage to help them. Hell, they were so soft they'd even built a tunnel so their government could escape to England more quickly next time the Germans invaded. At least even the soft Americans had some spark of courage to them; these people reeked of the cowardice that infected their nation.
And they were in the damn way! He'd lost sight of his quarry in the crowd. He stopped in the middle of the park and looked around. There were easily a hundred people in the area. He scanned through them quickly, mentally discarding each one as too old, too tall, too male, too fat, or whatever. Then finally he spotted that hair he'd been chasing earlier, walking calmly along with a group of other young women, trying to blend into their group.
Oh NOW it's over! he thought as he sprinted towards her. Now he'd get his information and his prize. Soon all of America would sleep safely under a blanket of impenetrable safety. A blanket they would all be able to thank him for providing. This mission had been a pain in the ass, but once it was over it would all be worth it. Soon. Very soon.
In seconds he'd reached her. He snarled as he clamped his hand down on her shoulder and spun her around.
And found himself staring into the face of a girl who could be no more than fourteen years old.
"DAMMITT!!" he bellowed at the entire world in general. He'd missed her. Again.