Chapter 39

"I was beginning to worry," Eva said as the train gave a soft jerk and then another before pulling away from Prague station. It was bound for Paris via Munich, among other places.

"I couldn't decide," Wolfgang shrugged, sliding the compartment door closed behind him. He locked it and pulled the shade, smiling as he handed a package wrapped in silver foil to his sister. The gift had been bound with satin ribbon and a large red bow which made her smile.

"Heavy," she observed with a questioning look.

"Suhl Makarov PM nine millimeter," Wolfgang told her. "With a matched factory suppressor and two eight round magazines in a hand crafted mahogany box."

"Really?" Eva's look of astonishment amused her brother. "How did you arrange that?"

"Herr Polgar is an avid collector," Wolfgang said, referring to a Czech antique dealer they had become acquainted with previously. Polgar was an older man that both he and Eva had become quite fond of and a useful source of information and tools, like the Yarygin PY pistol that Wolfgang had used on the bridge the night before.

"Was it difficult to convince him to part with it?" Eva wondered.

"At first," Wolfgang said with a small nod. "But he quickly realized that I wouldn't take no for an answer. We reached an agreeable price soon after that."

"I bet," she laughed lightly, returning the package so that Wolfgang could stow it beside their luggage in a bin beneath the seat. "You didn't hurt him."

"Of course not!" Wolfgang looked at his sister with a hurt expression. "But I did spend a little more than we planned."

"So long as it works," she sighed, sucking at her bottom lip. "We're taking a real chance."

"It was your idea," he said. "It's not too late to find some sexy lingerie."

"Shut-up!" Eva rolled her eyes and opened her large shoulder bag, removing a recent issue of Paris Match. "Look. This is her."

"What's that?" Wolfgang sat beside his sister.

"It's an advertisement for lipstick," Eva replied absently. "It's her, yeah?"

"Yes," he agreed, taking in the full page glossy image of a woman's face. An amazingly beautiful face.

"Do you think she really looks like this?"

"Nobody really looks like that," Wolfgang said with a chuckle. "It's not even a real photograph, it's more like a painting."

"She's very attractive," Eva decided and flipped through the pages quickly. "She's here again. Look."

"Donna Karan," he read aloud. "I thought her name was Cindy."

"That's the designer," Eva said with a smile, knowing Wolfgang was teasing her.

Cindy looked like a pissed off prostitute, Wolfgang thought, glaring at the camera from a bar stool. Other people framed her in the photo, but they were blurred with motion and out of focus. The woman, Cindy, wore a tight red dress with her legs spread for the camera, enough so a hint of equally red panty could be seen through the shadows between her thighs. She seemed to look into his eyes and Wolfgang wondered what it would be like to throw her to the floor and take the bitch against her will. The look in Cindy's eyes told him that would be the only way he'd ever have her.

"You like that picture?"

"What?" Wolfgang blinked, looking up from the magazine and he smiled sheepishly, drawing a soft laugh from Eva's lips.

"I understand," Eva sighed. "She has a power, doesn't she?"

"I'll bet she doesn't look like that every day," Wolfgang said with a chuckle.

"What if she does?" Eva teased him as she moved closer, finding the man's penis firm in his trousers.

"God would not allow it, I think." Wolfgang reached up to touch his sister's face.

"No?" Eva tilted her cheek against his palm, massaging Wolfgang's hidden cock with her hand.

"He's not that cruel." Wolfgang leaned forward, kissing her lightly on the lips. "A woman who looked like that all the time? She would be very unhappy, I think."

"Hmmm..." Eva licked her lips and smiled, tugging at Wolfgang's zipper. "And you know such things about women?"

"Only one," Wolfgang whispered and kissed her again, parting the girl's lips with his tongue as the magazine fell forgotten to the floor.