Post by Mr. Johnson (GM) on Apr 29, 2006 22:20:59 GMT -5
September 25th, 2004. This was it; her chance to shine.
A Sisterhood informant close to the justice department had gotten word that the Desmond Hotel in Albany would be receiving a very special guest for its weekend long conference on Modern Legal Practices - Michael Baker. Baker was a particularly vindictive criminal justice lawyer, who had taken it upon himself to stage a one-man crusade against the Sisterhood, and who had, through various means, succeeded in putting no less than seven Sisterhood members behind bars. Needless to say, he was not a popular man around Sisterhood HQ, and The Saint was not about to pass up an opportunity to take him out of the picture.
So it was that, on a cold and clear September morning, Song Di found herself speeding up the 87 in the passenger seat of a rented BMW, breathing in the new car smell and trying to remained focused on the task ahead of her. The latter was made extremely difficult by the young woman currently seated next to her, behind the wheel. A young woman who, for one reason or another, had become inextricably interwoven into the very fabric of Song Di's existence. A young woman known to the criminal underworld and hysterical newspaper columnists only as - The Cleaner.
They had made the journey so far in relative silence, with neither offering the other so much as an accidental glance. Now, however, as their destination grew closer and closer, it became apparent that some communication would be necessary. And as the car swerved through the relatively light traffic, The Cleaner blew a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes and shifted in her seat in what might almost be described as an uneasy fashion.
"When we get to Albany, I'm going to need you to do most of the talking," she said, at last.
It occurred to Song Di that this was one of the first times she'd heard her companion speak - not just on this journey, but ever. Generally speaking The Cleaner communicated only through nods and meaningful glances, and those few words she did utter were so direct and to the point as to almost slip by unrecognized. Her voice, now that Song Di came to consider it, was quiet, almost to the point of being a whisper, and with the slightest suggestion of an un-placeable accent.
A Sisterhood informant close to the justice department had gotten word that the Desmond Hotel in Albany would be receiving a very special guest for its weekend long conference on Modern Legal Practices - Michael Baker. Baker was a particularly vindictive criminal justice lawyer, who had taken it upon himself to stage a one-man crusade against the Sisterhood, and who had, through various means, succeeded in putting no less than seven Sisterhood members behind bars. Needless to say, he was not a popular man around Sisterhood HQ, and The Saint was not about to pass up an opportunity to take him out of the picture.
So it was that, on a cold and clear September morning, Song Di found herself speeding up the 87 in the passenger seat of a rented BMW, breathing in the new car smell and trying to remained focused on the task ahead of her. The latter was made extremely difficult by the young woman currently seated next to her, behind the wheel. A young woman who, for one reason or another, had become inextricably interwoven into the very fabric of Song Di's existence. A young woman known to the criminal underworld and hysterical newspaper columnists only as - The Cleaner.
They had made the journey so far in relative silence, with neither offering the other so much as an accidental glance. Now, however, as their destination grew closer and closer, it became apparent that some communication would be necessary. And as the car swerved through the relatively light traffic, The Cleaner blew a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes and shifted in her seat in what might almost be described as an uneasy fashion.
"When we get to Albany, I'm going to need you to do most of the talking," she said, at last.
It occurred to Song Di that this was one of the first times she'd heard her companion speak - not just on this journey, but ever. Generally speaking The Cleaner communicated only through nods and meaningful glances, and those few words she did utter were so direct and to the point as to almost slip by unrecognized. Her voice, now that Song Di came to consider it, was quiet, almost to the point of being a whisper, and with the slightest suggestion of an un-placeable accent.
