Charlotte whispered, “He’s the real thing, isn’t he?”

Joe nodded silently, slowly pulling his Walther from his underarm holster and then reaching into an outside pocket for his silencer. Charlotte leaned back as effortlessly as possible, remembering Joe’s lesson about seeing someone without looking at them. She gazed about the train car, peripherally watching the man at the front.

Joe attached the silencer and noiselessly checked the clip for ammunition. “He is likely aware that we are here, and will assume that we know he is here,” he reasoned. “What do you think should be our course of action, young pupil?”

Charlotte was more worried about disappointing Joe than about an unknown sharing her train car. She was confident in the instinct she had. “We get off the train and draw him into the open,” she said.

Joe sat, arms folded in his lap, wordlessly appraising her.

Then, another instinct – “Assuming he’s here for us.”

Joe winked. “You make James Bond look like the fat, lazy Westerner he is.”