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  “Hello and welcome to Head Trip Travel Services. My name is Andrew. Where would you like to go today?”

  Chapter Two

  Shelby stood on the platform waiting for the train to transport her from Frankfurt to West Berlin. She was still a little disoriented from the office procedure in frozen downtown Chicago that had left her standing on a rail platform, April sun high in the sky, somewhere in the place still known as West Germany. It was funny how the whole thing worked.

  First thing Saturday morning, she had climbed into what could only be described as a technological marvel of a recliner, taken the pill a technician named Lois had given her, slipped the virtual reality helmet over her head, and basically fallen asleep. Her personal research coupled with the propaganda from the company served as proof enough she would be safe and cared for during her day in the office. The fact that she was now standing on a rail platform somewhere in Northern Europe, wearing the tightest pair of jeans she had ever squeezed her butt into, served as ample reminder she was definitely not experiencing the Chicago of the mid twenty-first century.

  “This is so cool.” Shelby bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. She held one foot out to look at the shoes that were now part of her attire. Cute little white leather high-top sneakers, complete with a double set of Velcro fasteners around the ankles. Those struck her as a great idea, especially considering the button-fly jeans she was now wearing were so tight she wasn’t sure if she could manage to bend over to tie the shoes. Oh well, she knew the style was right for 1985, and she would deal with the shoelace problem tomorrow. Shelby liked the bright purple sweatshirt with the hood and the big pocket in the front. She especially liked the old-style logo for her alma mater, Northwestern University, emblazoned all over the front. She reached under the purple fleece to check what else she had been dressed in and discovered quickly that the ribbed knit fabric of her white tank top was no different from the ones currently in her dresser drawer back in Chicago.

  “Back in Chicago…” It was weird to think about since she was in reality still in Chicago, but everything she could see, feel, and hear told her it was 1985 and she was in Frankfurt. Her stomach rumbled when the smell of grilled sausages from a street vendor’s cart reached her nose. As she ran her fingers through her short hair, she came away relieved that her actual appearance hadn’t changed. While her own background research had shown her a style known as “mall hair,” she was abundantly grateful she wouldn’t have to deal with anything quite so ridiculous. A blow dryer and a comb were all she would need, items she assumed were packed in the black canvas duffel bag sitting next to her feet on the rail platform.

  A voice from a loudspeaker overhead announced the imminent arrival of the train to take her to West Berlin. She managed to pick up some of what the male voice had said, but fluency in German was evidently not considered vital to her adventure, so therefore not included. As she looked around the platform, people began milling about, checking their luggage, making their preparations to get on the train. There were a few other young people dressed much like she was, leading her to believe they were American college students, just like she was supposed to be. She contemplated walking up to them and asking how the heck she was supposed to get these pants buttoned again if she needed to go to the bathroom, but decided they would probably think she was crazy and most likely ignore her.

  Shelby stopped watching people fiddle with their luggage and kiss loved ones good-bye when she caught sight of a woman who nearly stole her breath away. She stood several yards to Shelby’s right, dressed in tight black jeans that hugged her oh-so-shapely behind in a way that Shelby just couldn’t stop staring at. “Wow,” she breathed out quietly. She let her gaze drift up, over the back of the black leather jacket the woman was wearing. Hair the color of Hershey’s milk chocolate tied in a ponytail fell past the collar of the jacket. As if the woman could feel Shelby’s eyes freely roaming up and down, she pulled off her mirrored sunglasses and turned to look at Shelby, studying her with the iciest crystal blue eyes Shelby had ever seen. This woman, this Amazon goddess, was breathtaking, and Shelby didn’t even bother to try to hide the fact she was staring. The woman returned Shelby’s look with a little smile, put her sunglasses back on, and turned her attention toward the train now pulling into the station.

  Shelby reached into the large pocket on the front of her sweatshirt and found several items, including a wallet, complete with several hundred Deutschmarks in cash, an Illinois driver’s license, and a Visa card. Further examination revealed a United States passport and tickets for the train. She checked the ticket to determine where she needed to sit and stepped back a short distance from the edge of the platform as the train hissed and rattled its way to a stop. Shelby leaned over, as much as the damn tight jeans would allow, picked up her duffel bag, and began to make her way toward the train. Strangely enough, one last look around the platform revealed no trace of Shelby’s Amazon with the black leather jacket, but she could worry about that later. She was certain there was adventure on the way, and she was eager to get to West Berlin.

  Once aboard, she found her seat, heaved her surprisingly heavy duffel into the overhead compartment, and slid into her seat next to the window. In 1985, there was no such thing as an iPod to listen to, and even if there had been, Shelby was not terribly enamored of the pop/rock nonsense that seemed to be the preferred music of the day. She debated a quick check through her duffel to see if the kind folks at Head Trip had packed her a book, but when she got out of her seat, she spotted her Amazon, sitting alone in a seat at the rear of the car. The mystery woman was staring right at her, her gaze piercing in a way that made Shelby wonder if she actually had X-ray vision. She dismissed the thought quickly. “Yeah, right, genius. A hot babe like that undressing you with her eyes? Sure.” Shelby returned the stare with one of her own. The woman averted her eyes to look out the window of the train as it began to move.

  Unprepared for the sudden motion of the train, Shelby had to grab the overhead bin to keep from falling. That was certainly no way to impress anyone, much less this vision in black leather Shelby caught staring at her again. What was she looking at? Shelby was puzzled, but decided it would be best to just sit and contemplate the leather-jacketed bombshell from the safety of her seat next to the window. “Well, maybe one last peek.” She sat up higher and craned her neck to see over the seat across from her. Shelby stopped, surprised because the Amazon was no longer in her seat. Before she could even take the time to look for her again, the woman appeared, standing in the aisle adjacent to Shelby’s seat. Shelby looked up and met the woman’s gaze head on as she asked a silent question, raising her eyebrows and pointing toward the unoccupied seat directly across from Shelby.

  Shelby nodded and gestured toward the vacant seat, which the woman slid into. While she was hoping for an introduction, or maybe just a small, “Hi, how’s the weather, and you’re really cute,” Shelby got nothing. Rather than try to make conversation, the woman pulled headphones from the pocket of her jacket and put them on. She reached back into her pocket, started some kind of music player, slipped on her sunglasses, and turned to look out the window. As she let her own fantasies about hot babes on trains drift away, Shelby settled back into her seat, gave in to the motion of the train, and fell asleep.

  Shelby awoke with a stretch and a yawn as a conductor wove his way down the aisle announcing the train’s arrival in West Berlin. She was still a little disoriented and quickly noticed her fantasy Amazon was once again missing. Although she wasn’t completely sure why, Shelby knew she was supposed to get off the train in West Berlin and make her way toward the Meininger City Hostel on Meininger Strasse. She had actually allowed Andrew, the guy from Head Trip, to explain that much before she stopped him, telling him her friends thought she was boring, and she had something to prove to herself. She would play this trip from the seat of her pants and hope for the best. Besides, it was only a computer simulation, and who knew computers better than she did? Andrew had
seemed reluctant, but she turned on her best smile and charmed him into acquiescence.

  As she struggled to get her black duffel from the overhead bin, Shelby caught sight of her mystery woman through the window. Still wearing her mirrored sunglasses, she was already on the platform, and it looked to Shelby like she was waiting for someone. Since Shelby had no choice but to be patient while the passengers clogging the aisle of the train removed their own belongings from the overhead bins, she never took her eyes off the woman. Once the people began to move, Shelby continued her study, noticing how the woman looked over first one shoulder, then the other. She checked her watch, she shifted her weight from one black booted foot to the other, she took her sunglasses off, looked around some more, and then put them back on. Shelby couldn’t help but think this was a woman with a schedule to keep, and it made her wonder what was up. Fantasies began to pop into Shelby’s head, fantasies about spies and intrigue, and she had to wonder if this woman had something to do with Shelby’s vacation. The woman’s tight black T-shirt did nothing to stem the tide of Shelby’s overactive imagination.

  Once she was finally clear of the other passengers trying to leave the confines of the train, Shelby caught sight of the woman again, still looking around the platform as though she was nervous about something. It didn’t take her long to figure out who the mystery babe was looking for. As Shelby jumped down from the last step of the train to the concrete of the platform, the woman approached her.

  “You are Shelby Hutchinson, no?” the woman asked in a heavily accented voice.

  “Um, no…er, yeah, I mean. I’m Shelby Hutchinson. Who are you?”

  “Later.” The woman began pulling her toward the exit. “Right now you need to come with me.”

  Shelby wasn’t about to go running off with a stranger, especially when that stranger’s accent sounded decidedly Russian and Shelby’s trip was supposed to include shooting at Russian spies. She planted both feet, resolutely crossed her arms over her chest, and tried again to find out this woman’s true identity.

  “Now, wait just a second here. I don’t even know who you are.”

  “I will explain, but later. Right now, we must leave.”

  As much as she wanted to argue, Shelby spotted something that quickly changed her mind. Two men appeared from around the corner of the rail terminal. Goon Number One was decked in a trench coat and fedora, Goon Number Two in a black suit. Both looked every bit the clichéd picture of the KGB agents from her video games. “Oh, shit…” was all she managed to say as she watched Goon Number Two reach under his black jacket and pull out a pistol. That was all she needed to see.

  The woman broke into a run. Shelby followed, pretty sure the goons were after her, even though she wasn’t completely sure why. She allowed a small smile as she ran after the woman in the leather jacket. This was exactly what she had paid for, and she wasn’t about to blow it by standing on the platform and asking too many questions. By the time Shelby got to the steps that led down to the street, her mystery woman was already pulling on a helmet and getting ready to start a motorcycle. Shelby caught up, and the woman tossed her a second helmet, which Shelby put on while the woman climbed on the bike and cranked it up. Shelby quickly climbed on the back of the motorcycle, tightened the shoulder strap on her duffel bag, and held on tight.

  Shelby closed her eyes and let out a long breath as the motorcycle pulled away from the curb and into the busy traffic of West Berlin. Undaunted by the fact she had no idea where they were headed, Shelby just hung on, glad to be transported away from the goons with the guns. Her relief was short-lived as she spotted the men getting into a black BMW parked illegally near the entrance to the West Berlin Station. The mystery woman must have seen them too. She gave the bike some gas, wove her way dangerously through the traffic, and sped past a sign Shelby recognized from her research as an entrance for the autobahn. Once on the major freeway, the woman seriously cranked up the gas, forcing Shelby to hang on even tighter. She had no idea how fast they were going, but she was certain it was faster than what normally would be considered safe for two women and a rather heavy duffel bag on a motorcycle.

  The woman dodged in and out of traffic, changing lanes as needed to maintain her speed. It didn’t take Shelby long to get the hang of leaning with the motion of the bike and she eventually got comfortable enough to risk removing one hand from the woman’s midsection to tighten the strap of her duffel bag enough to keep it from swinging loose with each lean of the motorcycle. She looked around as the sights of West Berlin sped by and wondered if she might get a chance to roam around the city. Well, that wasn’t actually the point of her trip, so Shelby stopped musing about all touristy kinds of stuff, returned her free arm to the woman’s waist, and held on.

  Shelby braved a look to try to see the speedometer on the motorcycle but gave it up when she noticed motion in the rearview mirror on the right side of the bike. It was the black BMW from the train station and it was closing fast. The mystery woman must have seen it too, as she increased her speed to maintain the distance between them and the goons in the car. Shelby closed her eyes and tucked her head in behind the woman’s back. She didn’t even know how tightly she had been hanging on until she realized, over the noise of the engine and the wind, that the woman was trying to talk to her.

  “Shoot the tires,” she said over her shoulder.

  “What…me…huh…?” Shelby stammered.

  “Da, you. Shoot their tires.”

  “But I don’t have a gun.”

  “No gun.” The woman seemed unfazed. She grabbed Shelby’s right hand and pulled it closer under her left breast toward the weapon Shelby found holstered there. “Use mine.”

  Despite the fact Shelby had never fired a real gun in her life, she pulled the weapon from its holster and tried to turn around. From her seat on the back of the bike, going close to a hundred miles an hour, once again hanging on with only one hand, she couldn’t even hold the gun still, much less fire it with any approximation of accuracy. Blowing a hole in the windshield of a car loaded with Mom, Dad, kids, and the family dog sounded like a terrible idea, so rather than shoot wildly and hope for the best, Shelby begged off.

  “I can’t. I don’t know what to do.”

  The woman reached back, took the gun from Shelby’s hand, and said, “You drive.”

  “What? Me?” Shelby squeaked, more than a little panicked, but it was too late. The woman returned the gun to its holster, grabbed Shelby’s right hand, and placed it on the accelerator. The bike wiggled precariously while Shelby reached around and got her left hand situated on the other handlebar grip. “Oh, shit.” She tried to figure out how to balance two people on a motorcycle. Just as she had decided it wasn’t that hard, she heard a crack somewhere from behind, followed quickly by a second and then a third. She braved a quick glance in the rearview mirror again and noticed the passenger in the black BMW was now leaning out of his window, shooting a gun in their general direction.

  “Oh, double shit.” Shelby clenched her jaw and tried not to freak when the woman reached under her jacket and pulled her gun out for the second time. She then twisted to get under Shelby’s left arm and leaned over, facing the car behind them, leaving Shelby to drive from the back of the motorcycle while she shot at the front tires of the BMW. The gun discharged twice with loud pops, followed almost instantaneously by a different kind of pop as the left front tire of the BMW exploded, throwing the car out of control and into the guardrail. Shelby blew out a long breath as the woman reached into her jacket to return the weapon to its holster, and then sat up to take over control of the motorcycle.

  “Oh, God help me…” was all Shelby had left to say, as she closed her eyes, squeezed even tighter, and willed herself not to pee her pants. She let out another long breath as the woman changed lanes and slowed to a speed Shelby felt a little more comfortable with. They traveled in silence for another fifteen minutes, speeding past the outer edge of West Berlin, until the woman finally eased off th
e gas and downshifted, slowing enough to take the ramp that would lead them off the autobahn. She doubled back and began to weave her way through a series of side streets and alleys, taking Shelby God knew where. She could only assume the woman knew where they were going, so she just held on and hoped they would stop soon. That little trip down the autobahn had been more than enough excitement to hold her for a while.

  The woman finally stopped the motorcycle in front of an old building off a dingy back street somewhere in the outskirts of West Berlin. As she climbed off the bike and removed her helmet, Shelby watched a healthy-looking rat scurry away from an overflowing trash bin to disappear into a crack at the foundation of a nearby building. She shuddered and thought again she probably should have allowed Andrew to explain all of the details of her trip, but let it go once she realized that ship had long since sailed.

  With no idea where they were, Shelby didn’t have much choice but to trust the woman who was leading her into the building and up three flights of stairs. The woman dug through the pockets of her jeans and then pulled out a key to unlock the first door at the top of the steps. She gestured for Shelby to enter the small apartment first and checked over her shoulder one last time before she followed Shelby through the door, closing and locking it behind her.

  Shelby just stood there while the woman checked the windows and closets. She was finally calming down from the harrowing ride on the motorcycle as the woman turned toward her. “This place is safe for you.”

  “What?” Shelby still had no clue about anything that was happening, so she tried again to find out what the heck was going on. “Who are you?”

  “I am Tasha. I am to help you,” she answered in the thick Russian accent Shelby was beginning to believe was the sexiest thing she had ever heard. But Shelby was still puzzled.