How I Met Your Mother: Mothers Day

"Okay, why don't we go and pay a visit to Granny?" He said as he abruptly turned left out of the school entrance rather than right.

"I thought we were going home?" Cassie asked. "We still have to make our cards for Mother's Day." Andrew shook his head.

"No, Mommy's a little busy right now and she doesn't want to be disturbed, so she wants us to go over to Granny's house for a little bit."

****

Returning to the dining room, Leah felt relieved that she had been able to warn Andrew. She knew that she had to channel her anger at the thought of her family being threatened into something useful, even while there was a nagging sense of dread that something may yet still happen to them that she couldn't control.

This had been her primary fear after giving birth to Cassie and Scott – that someone would take them away from her without Leah being able to do anything to stop them. There was a clattering noise as a memory stick was thrown down onto the table

"Put the data onto that." John Doe said.

"Okay," Leah said, inserting the stick in the USB port and activating the file transfer. She made a few surreptitious additional keystrokes as well, uploading a virus to the memory stick at the same time. Even if they got away with the data it would prove useless once they tried to download it.

What's the term again? A pyrrhic victory.

****

"Mom, I need you to look after the kids for me for a bit." Andrew said after he'd ushered Scott and Cassie into his mother's living room. The short, squat figure of his mother came waddling out of the kitchen bearing a tray of biscuits.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Andrew shook his head.

"Nothing – everything is fine." He replied. "Look, have you still got the keys to Harry's old van?"

"Yes, why?"

"I need to borrow it," Andrew said. His mom picked up a set of rusty looking keys from the sideboard and handed them to him. "Oh and are my old American Football pads and helmet still in the garage?"

"They should be." His mother answered. "Andrew, what's going on?"

"Just look after the kids – I'll tell you later." He then kissed his mom on the cheek before darting out of the house. Once the front door was shut behind him, he grabbed his mobile from his pocket and dialled a number. "Alison, its Andy; Leah's in trouble…"

****

There was a noticeable sense of irritation in the dining room as two pairs of eyes watch the progress bar creep along the screen. Leah was running through her options as the phone began to ring again. The shrill tone cut through the silence between the two people in the room. By the seventh ring, it was clear whoever was on the phone wasn't giving up.

"Answer it – get rid of them." John Doe gestured for Leah to get out of her chair once more. Again he followed her from a safe distance as she made her way into the kitchen. If she could just get to the knife block by the sink, or her hands on a saucepan…

"Hello." Leah never took her eyes of John Doe.

"It's me," Alison's voice was instantly recognisable. "I'm on my way."

"I'm sorry," Leah said with a feint smile on her face. Thank you Andy. "We already have broadband, thanks anyway." She pressed the button to end the call and made to return the portable handset to the base unit.

John Doe coughed, bringing his hand to his mouth. Leah recognised the opening immediately. In the space of the seven seconds in which his lungs reacted to something in the air and the reaction of his eyelids to forcibly close, Leah snatched the phone from the base unit and threw it with pace and accuracy.

The detachable unit struck John Doe's hand holding the pistol – which clattered against the tiled kitchen floor. Dispensing with the other two ideas she had conjured up as she had answered the phone, Leah flew at the intruder. Her right fist connected with his chin as her left hand grabbed his right wrist, twisting it and pushing John Doe into the side of the kitchen door.

Wrenching his arm up behind his back quickly and with as much force as she could muster, Leah grabbed the hair on the back of his head and drove him face-first into the side of the large SMEG fridge freezer that dominated the one wall. John Doe dropped to his knees, blood from his nose now adorned the pale blue metal of the faux-1950s style appliance as Leah reached out for the first thing to hand

The tea towel was one of a set of six that Leah's mother had bought them as a silly wedding present. As her fingers wrapped around the end of the slightly damp cloth Leah flicked her wrist in a circular motion before whipping it around John Doe's neck. Grasping the loose end with her other hand, Leah planted her knee against his back for leverage, hauling back as hard as she could.

John Doe's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as Leah used the improvised garrotte to strangle him. He pawed at the material that was biting into his neck, hoping to either alleviate the deadly pressure or to somehow wrest it from her grip. He succeeded in neither. Leah knew what she was doing as she maintained her grip, recognising the tell-tale signs of someone dying from lack of oxygen and blood to the brain.

John Doe's hands fell limply to his sides as his eyes glazed over, his arms twitching spasmodically. Leah held on for another thirty seconds before letting his lifeless body fall to the kitchen floor. She unwound the tea towel from his neck and used it to wipe the blood from the side of the fridge. Leah looked at it for a moment and then tossed it into the washing machine without a second thought.

Now to see what else I have to deal with, she thought as she made her way to the living room.

****

On the opposite side of the city, Alison Irving was cursing the traffic. After Andrew's phone call she had managed to find two junior agents in the building who weren't attending to other matters as backup. Despite her best efforts, congestion was proving to be the biggest problem she was facing today.

She consoled herself with the thought that no matter what sort of situation Leah found herself in, she could usually figure a way out of it. She could always be counted on to do the right thing in a crisis, Alison mused as she pushed the accelerator of her government issued SUV to the floor. In doing so she ran straight through a red light.

"Shouldn't we have stopped for that?" Michaels – one of the agents in the back – asked her.

"Fuck it," Alison replied. "They can send me the ticket."

****

8 years ago

Northern France

Leah sidled closer to the ground; being spotted meant exposure and the risk of failing a mission that had been a month in the planning. With the sun receding behind the hills and the moon beginning to show its milky white face, it would soon be too late eliminate her target as time was working against her. Peering through her binoculars, she observed him pacing in his 15th floor office. Having been on reconnaissance for two weeks, she had picked out this particular location as the most suitable spot for her to carry out her task.

He was a creature of habit – something that Leah had been thankful for. Every day, he entered the building at 7am on the dot. After buying his Columbian coffee from a machine, he would stroll to his office, arriving at approximately 7:15. After finishing the caffeine loaded drink, he would work through the morning, taking two bathroom breaks and one snack break in the process.

After taking his lunch at his desk, the same pattern would repeat itself for the afternoon. At 4pm every day, he would amble around his room and check to see that all his work was completed. Sometimes he would talk to himself, or swing an imaginary golf club in the direction of the large plate glass windows that looked out at the hills behind the office.

Then, near 4:30, he would exit the building and calmly stroll to his black Porsche 911 Carrera Coupe and make the two-hour drive back to his home outside the city.

Having spent the first week of her time in the country as his "replacement" secretary, Louise, Leah also knew various details from his private life, such as he had an affair with his neighbour's wife, has an illegitimate child, drinks heavily and is on his second heart attack.

His financial activities were highly irregular – with sizeable donations to several organisations connected to Al-Khayal on a regular basis. After compiling as much intelligence as she could, Leah had reported back to her superiors. They had responded by telling her that as the French authorities were disinclined to take action against him she should proceed as she saw fit. Checking her gauges to see what the wind was like, she began assembling her weapon.

The conversation from the previous night with Alison suddenly flew back into Leah's mind. She had been packing up her temporary accommodation and making sure that there was no trace of her cover identity left behind when her private cell phone rang. Not that anyone would be able to connect her to what was about to happen, but she always felt happier once she had performed this particular ritual.

"I don't know why you drag it out so much," Alison said. Leah could hear the sound of a cigarette lighter clicking. "If it had been me I'd have just fluttered my eyelashes at him, gotten him into a hotel room and popped him there and then."

"You know that's not how I work," Leah said, spraying the bathroom with a mixture of bleach and caustic soda. "I like to make sure that everything is perfect."

"No, you just enjoy drawing it out," Alison countered. "You delay gratification as long as possible."

"Well, maybe," Leah replied, stepping out of the bathroom and looking down at her watch. "How's everything coming along?"

"Don't worry about that – everything is under control. You just concentrate on doing what needs to be done and getting home okay." Alison scolded her. "Have you spoke to Andy today?"

"Earlier – I won't speak to him now until I'm at the airport." Leah said, picking up her suitcase and placing it by the door to the rented apartment. She could almost see the frown on her friend's face as she spoke.

"You know I don't think you should do that – you might lose focus at a critical moment."

"He's the only reason I do focus on my job right now," Leah said, looking back at her watch again. "Look, I need to go – I'll talk to you later."

"Okay kiddo – take care."

As Leah secured the rifle on its stand, she pulled a cover of leaves over the gun for camouflage. Placing her eye behind the scope, Leah swung the weapon to the left slightly, aiming into her targets office. With a couple of turns of the scope's sight adjustment, she zeroed in clearly on the interior of the office.

Xavier Micoud leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. Shaking his head, he picked up his briefcase as the overworked muscles in his legs strained to lift his body out of the chair. Those same muscles propelled him tiredly towards the door. Leah felt her stomach suddenly lurch – he was leaving his office. Pulling out a cheap, disposable cell phone, she knew she had to act fast before everything was ruined. Her fingers moved faster than she thought possible as she keyed in the number to Xavier's desk from memory.

As he placed the key in the handle to lock the door, Xavier heard a brief beep, followed by a shrill ring. I wonder who that could be? He mused as he walked back to his desk and sat down. The spring on the chair wheezed in protest at his weight. I guess I have time to answer one more call today, he continued, glancing at his watch.

"Look out of the window." Leah's French was faultless. She zoomed in and switched off the safety as he followed the message inquisitively. Applying a slow pressure to the trigger, she waited for him to rotate towards her. She fired the shot with a soft click of the pressure sensitive trigger. The bullet zipped through the air and pierced the window, impacting on the target in less than a second. The hollow-point shell shattered through the man's head, just as the broken window shards hit the floor. A wave of blood spattered across the desk as Xavier Micoud fell out of the chair, slumping to the floor with the telephone receiver still in his hand.

Leah was already moving away as chaos broke out on the 15th floor. Ditching the rifle in a nearby storm drain, she made her way back to the rented off-road vehicle that was sitting on a narrow dirt road. Firing the engine into life, Leah allowed herself a brief smile as the heavy-set vehicle began to bounce along the road.

By this time tomorrow, I'll be Mrs Leah Hargreaves.

****

76 Burrow Street

Crawling along the floor, Leah managed to get to the large bay window that looked out over her front garden and onto the street. Pulling her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans she activated the recording facility of the camera function and carefully pushed the small device up into the window.

Using the full three minutes recording time available, Leah turned the camera in an arc before she retracted her hand. As she lay on the carpet, taking care not to expose herself to anyone outside, Leah began to play back the footage the small camera had recorded.

At the one minute, forty-three second mark she saw what she was looking for. Parked on the street outside their house was a grey Vauxhall Vectra – and sitting in the driver's seat was a young woman with what appeared to be brown or black hair. Her expression was fixed firmly on the Hargreaves' property.

Leah took the time to watch the rest of the footage for any other unknown observers, and then crawled along the floor until she reached the doorway again. Springing to her feet, she walked purposefully into the kitchen. Pausing only to scoop up John Doe's pistol, Leah made her way to the back door.

Leah carefully negotiated the fence that acted as a barrier between the gardens of the Hargreaves' and their neighbour, Mrs Krepolowski, and jogged straight for the shared access between the next two houses in the street. Realising that the woman in the car was watching the front of the Hargreaves house, she had decided to approach the car from the rear, hopefully concealing her presence until it was too late for her target to do anything about it.

Using Mrs Krepolowski's overgrown hedge as cover, Leah carefully approached the street, pulling the compact pistol out of the back of her jeans in the process. Stepping out onto the pavement, Leah didn't quite believe what she saw unfolding before her eyes.

****

Mr Adelmann has a red Toyota, Mrs Krepolowski doesn't drive, the Parkers have that horrible yellow truck, Tony and Yvonne drive a BMW, Andrew thought as he struggled to see clearly out of the visor that covered his eyes. Which means that the only car I don't recognise is that Vectra outside my house…

His foot pressed down on the accelerator and the van lurched into life, rumbling down the slight inclination of the hill that Burrow Street sat on. The only thought that went through his mind was to remember to change upward through the gears. Feeling the anxiety growing in his stomach, Andrew Hargreaves alternated between looking at the unknown car and its lone occupant and the speedometer as it slowly rose. If it had been snowing then the van would have looked like one of those giant cartoon snowballs rolling down the hill, gradually increasing in momentum.

His foot felt like it was about to break through the faded lining of the interior of the Ford Transit van as he watched the needle climb to just under forty miles an hour. One last glance up at the car, just to check I'm not going to miss – Jesus it looks big this close…the woman inside looks like she's screaming…is that my wife behind Mrs Krepolowski's hedge…?

****

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Leah said as her voice was almost drowned out by the sound of the circular saw that was cutting through the twisted metal wreck made up of a 2006 Vectra and a 1998 Transit. "You could have been killed!"

"Unlikely," Andrew replied. He took a drink from the mug of tea he was holding in his hands. "The Transit's engine mounting only punctures through into the driver compartment at speeds above fifty two miles an hour – whereas the Vectra is designed to crumple on impact, pushing the engine mounting backwards into the passenger compartment." He then patted the set of American Football pads that were still attached to his body. "Plus the pads would have saved me."

"What?" Leah said, looking over her shoulder at the situation. Alison was walking over to her – the entire street resembled something out of an episode of Casualty.

"Looks like she might make it, in spite of the injuries she sustained in the collision." Alison said, indicating to the occupant of the car. "I take it the other one is inside?"

"Yeah," Leah replied. "But he won't be able to tell you anything."

"Ballsy stunt with the van." Alison said to Andrew, who smiled and raised his mug to her in a mock salute.

"Don't encourage him," Leah warned her. "Where are the kids?"

"At Mom's eating biscuits and making your Mother's Day card." He replied. "Does this mean we'll need to move house again?"

"Maybe." Leah said, taking another look at the mangled chunk of metal. "And I think we'll need to get your step-father a new van." Michaels called out to Alison from the wreckage of the car, gesturing for her to come over as the paramedics placed the unidentified woman on a stretcher.

"I've got to go, you two going to be okay?" Alison asked. Leah nodded. "Okay then, looks like I'll be accompanying our friend to the hospital, assuming she survives the journey. You know how much of a killer the traffic is at this time of the day." Both Leah and Andrew noticed something dark in the tone of her voice. "I'll call you later Leah." As she watched her friend enter the back of the ambulance and it drive away with its siren blaring, Leah felt a hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?" Andrew asked. She turned and looked at him. Leah wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, despite the layer of plastic armour that surrounded his chest and shoulders.

"I love you too." She whispered into his ear.