Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

The sign on the door said Jonesies, but by the look of the dive, Seth Blake couldn't believe the place even deserved a name. It was the kind of place you could only find in the worst corners of the world. All eyes turned towards Blake as he entered the door. Every thuggish pilot, drunken lout, even the young woman tending the bar. All looking at him. Normally, Blake wouldn't mind being the center of attention, but not in this case. As he glanced through the room, he glanced one person sitting quietly at a table in front of him. The young Arab didn't make any kind of eye contact, seemed to be avoiding eye contact even. The realization quickly hit Blake: this was obviously his contact. He was expecting him. Why else the disinterest? Calmly, Blake walked over to the Arab's booth. Sliding in to the seat, he grinned. "All right, guy," he said. "What's the plan of attack?" The Arab just looked at him. Damn, couldn't they at least give him an agent that spoke English. "Damn it! They can't even give me a guide that speaks English!" "Eng-lish?" The look of confusion on the Arab's face slowly grew darker. Blake began to suspect he may have made a mistake. The Arab and Black reached for their pistols at the same time, recognizing an enemy agent. The door of the bar slammed open as their hands reached their holsters. The door made an awful cracking noise as it struck against the wall. The four men at the door stood in full Nazi regalia. Seth knew he was in for it bad when he saw their leader. Luther. Their eyes met. Luther slowly grinned. The smile pulled at the long scar running down the side of his face. The scar Blake had given him. Blake jumped from his seat, lunging in to the Nazi. Luther stumbled back and to the floor. Blake yanked his pistol from his holster as the other Nazis approached from the sides. Behind him, the woman at the bar shrieked. Blake flipped around drawing a bead on the Arab's forehead. The Arab that now held his pistol to the bartender's forehead. Cursing under his breathe, Blake dropped his pistol. He reluctantly raised his hands. Just as he did so, the woman drove her shoulder in to the solar plexus of the Arab. The Arab gasped for air, and fired, but the shot goes wild. Blake dived forward on to the Arab as the Nazis drew their weapons all around. One solid uppercut to the jaw put the Arab down. Blake yanked the gun from the falling Arab's hand just as the Nazis raised their rifles to take aim at him and his new female ally. Glancing up, Blake aimed his pistol towards the ceiling, firing. The bullet perfectly bisected the frayed cable holding up the dive's chandelier. It crashed down between him and the Nazis. Blake grabbed the woman as the sparks from the chandelier quietly set a table afire. In the confusion, it was little trouble for him to pull her out in to the night. "Stop him!" The voice of Luther rang out from the burning bar behind them. Blake knew they were along way from free still.