I am sorry it has taken me so long to post this continuation of Atalanta's Story. I had much of it wrote a year ago but this has been written almost from scratch three times. I has to slap myself from a fourth. I want to thank Ashleigh for editing it and to Bill who helped me in the early stages of this story. And to Todd who read it. I hoped I have not missed thanking or shortchanging anyone. If I did accept my apologies. I guess I should add this is copywrited material.

Atalanta arrives at the train depot to find...

Chapter 1

Dunwich depot stood as a testament of 18th century craftsmanship. Oaken and chestnut timbers provided the flooring, walls, and structure still sound after 100 plus years. At the far end of the room and behind a walled off area complete with bars sat the old stationmaster in his official uniform, it was like stepping back in time, authentic even to his bespectacled face as he waited for passengers that were boarding, departing or waiting.

Due to the time he guessed most were waiting for the school van to arrive. He sat drowsing in the late afternoon sun. Across from him and to the right of the lobby was a waiting room that included arcade games. Not the very latest stuff but enough that made the area profitable. His eyes would gleam whenever there was activity around the games, soda, and snack machines.

I opened the door admitting a beam of sunlight that seemed to burn across the polished floor and painting me in a golden light. I stood silent, my eyes sweeping the rooms, carefully shut the door, and continued searching the interior.
The old man studied the newcomer. Even among the students that came each year she stood out. Tall, at just under six feet in her boots her frame; while feminine was athletic and toned and she moved with ease and power. Up closer her eyes were not green but gray sprinkled with flecks of blue-green. Her auburn hair hung naturally, curled in waves down her back and shoulders.

The lobby was empty except for me and the old man but my senses had caught someone leaving by the back door. Crossing the lobby carrying my luggage I nudged the door to his cage open and deposited them on the floor beside him.

“Hey what are you doing?” he complained, “You’re not allowed back here.”

“That go for them too?” I asked. His eyes betrayed him darting towards the back door.

“I expect my luggage to be looked after,” I smiled gently.

“Okay,” he gulped, “but…”

I was already in motion and at the backdoor before he finished his response. Gently easing the door open I peered around the corner and at the back loading platform. Down at the far end were three men, idly lounging around the platform in the afternoon sun.

I quickly and silently crossed the platform width and dropped down to the ground, and crouching, slipped to within a few feet catching some of their conversation.

“… you sure?”

“Yes, she looks just like her picture.”

“Get ready,” the first spoke hissed, “here is our ride now.”

The “ride” was a dark green passenger van without any distinguishable markings as seen from my vantage point. That knowledge taken together with the comment that I look like my picture rang warning bells in my mind.

I watched as the van parked. The men quickly subdued it's two occupants, tied them up, and tossed them into a nearby storage shed. Two of the men left the third in the driver’s seat while they went inside the depot.

The driver had his eyes glued at the front platform where he expected his confederates to appear. He didn’t see me as I came from behind, and using a hold that Manny showed me, quickly rendered him unconscious.

In seconds I had searched and bound him, leaving him behind the wheel barely able to hide before his two partners returned, complaining.

“Hey Bud, come on let’s go the kid skipped. Bud …,” he called in alarm as he realized something had gone awry. In that instant I sprang from my cover jabbing the hypodermic meant for me in his exposed neck, “Arghh,” he cried collapsing.

I caught the second man’s hand, as it darted under his coat, holding it tightly against his body despite his efforts to dislodge it. Suddenly, he shifted tactics letting that arm go limp and swung a left hook at me.

Thanks to Manny’s training I expected something of the sort and let go as he did, and, ducking under his left, caught his wrist with my left hand. Using his momentum I came up behind his twisting body, and shoving my right palm in his shoulder I forced him to the ground.

“Who sent you,” I hissed in his ear.

“Fuc … uh,” his retort was cut off as I applied more pressure to his rotator cuff.

“Talk,” I demanded easing the pressure.

“Okay, okay, that hurts, oww,” he squawked as I temporarily pulled back harder.

“I don’t know who he was. We got a call and the money was wired to us at the same time.”

“And then what,” I prompted bearing down on his shoulder for emphasis.

“We were to bring you to a safe house in Boston and wait for more instructions.”

“I want the address of that house.” I filed that address he gave in my memory for later use.

“Who's waiting for me there?”

“I don’t know who owns it,” he croaked.

“Oww,” he cried as I shifted higher on his body bring his arm with me, “I didn’t ask who owned it, but who uses it.”
“MCO, H1, and a smattering of others use it.” Clearly that was all the information I could dig out for now, and I quickly switched to a choke hold on his carotid artery. In seconds he passed out.

Digging through his pockets I fished his car keys out, and quickly locating the car they came in, drove it over, where with some difficulty I dumped their limp bodies in the back. And then I parked it under some trees at a far corner of the lot.

Next I checked and found the Whateley employees sleeping peacefully inside the shed. Crime must pay well; as after searching the thugs I found $5,000 in cash, while in the trunk of their car I discovered several handguns, an equal number of rifles, and lots of extra gear from tablets to NV equipment, medical kits complete with anesthetic, to changes of clothing and food supply.

The beginnings of a plan formed as I took stock of what happened. These three were sent to capture me for some reason, a reason that seemed personal. Until I was within the academy my safety couldn’t be guaranteed.

I retraced my steps to the backdoor, and seeing the lobby empty walked in silently. The clock on the wall showed that it had been only 15 minutes since I left the old man to go out back.

“You have a phone book,” I asked him. Wetting his lips he indicated the counter.

“Thanks,” I replied walking over and opening up the book quickly to the section I wanted. I committed to memory the three names I found there.
Closing the book I strode to where my luggage was and picked it up, “You haven’t seen me old man.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing.