By Edward Ewert, aged 13
“Stop right there,” she whispered in his ear. He could feel the gun pressed to his head and her slow, steady breath down his neck.
“What do you want?” he asked, slowly turning around to look at the woman. She had long dark hair and a tanned face.
“Where is my sister?” the woman whispered. He recognised that voice.
“Rachel,” he asked questioningly, “Rachel Avec.”
“Yes,” she replied cautiously.
“So you’re looking for Emma, no idea where she is, probably dead.” He looked up all around them, his men had lined up, pointing their guns at Rachel.
She looked up and said calmly, “Everything you have just told me is a complete and utter lie. Now tell me the truth and we might both live.”
After a long silence she whispered something in his ear.
He trembled and whispered, “Ok I’ll tell you already, I just don’t want you to mention that I had anything to do with it. She is in Russia with the Russian mafia. She’s good there; they say she saved their boss from some nut job assassin. She is in Moscow at the main base at the moment, to my knowledge.”
“Thank you,” she whispered sincerely and walked out of the door behind her. Some of the man’s men started to run towards the door, shooting their guns.
“Don’t follow her,” the man said to his men, “You’ll just get yourselves killed.”