Ilse stood on the corner holding a brand new suitcase full of her only earthly belongings.  She took a moment to stub out her cigarette and then hailed a cab.  Although her American accent was nearly flawless, she still took care with each word, making every syllable as long as she could.  It wasn't so long after the war and she had no need to live like a quiet and miserable dormouse like her father had.  After pronouncing her destination she slid into the cab, the new silk stockings she'd purchased making a soft shushing sound against the leather seat.  She liked that sound.  The driver didn't try to talk to her as so many of them had.  Perhaps she had mastered the look of a woman not to be trifled with.  She reveled in that thought for a while until she noticed the ride seemed to have gone on for far too long.  Just how long had she been daydreaming anyhow? 

She looked up at the driver and he looked back, his eyes dark and full of a terrible thing Ilse recognized but could not speak of.  She had to get out of the car.  The driver had seen the look of recognition on Ilse's face and had sped up, taking a corner too fast.  Ilse banged into the opposite side of the car, noting with alarm that the door had no handle.  Instead of being afraid, she became angry.  She thought of her brother Lars who had died fighting for his "homeland." Even though both of them had been raised in America.  She thought of her mother who was a glamourous and famous singer, so famous she had left her mousy husband and two children and gone to America. She thought of the flaming ruins of her life and how she'd most likely break everything in her suitcase and she cursed. 

"Gottverdammt!" 

Ilse used her perfectly manicured and oval shaped nails to dig at the face of her kidnapper like a spoon.  She dug in hard, hearing his screech and curse, the car swerved but stayed on the road, and she saw the driver reach for something, perhaps a gun?  So she dug harder.  This time she hit his eye, and the wheel jerked, the car with it.  Blood was pouring down the man's face, and he flailed at Ilse, a gun in one hand.  She tried to duck as he pulled the trigger again and again, and then Ilse felt the world tumble end over end. Once, twice, and a third time, the windows shattering, the steel screaming and finally the tires thumping as the car miraculously came to a stop upright.  Now there was blood in her face, and down her arms, and the glass was everywhere.  She heard the driver moan, but she could not escape because there were no door handles and the front of the car had nearly collapsed. 

"Mein Gott." Was all she could say

Kathryn had just walked out of a meeting with FitzChivalry when she saw a car flip over three times in front of her. As Kathryn started digging for her gun in her purse, her bodyguard grabbed her and started pulling her away.

"JACK! FUCK! PUT ME- thank you."

Glaring at her bodyguard in a way that ensured they'd speak of this later, Kathryn finished fishing her gun from her bag and walked over to the car. She pointed the gun at the people inside: a man and a woman. Jack had his gun out as well, which he kept trained solely on the driver.

Kathryn approached and yelled through the broken windows. A crowd was starting to gather, so she had to be fast.

"Hey. You. You okay?"

Ilse heard shouting, people were coming! She tried to move but her body hurt and the glass all over everything was cutting her. A woman's voice filtered through the noise.

"Hey. You. You okay?"

"Of course I am not ok!" Ilse snapped. She recoiled at her own rudeness, then realised she might have another chance. Repeating herself, in English she said. "I am not alright. This, this man. He kidnapped me!" She let out a yelp of pain.

Kathryn blinked.

"I meant are you alive, wiseass, not-"

The woman was still talking. Kidnapped. Fine, she's got an excuse to be angry. Kathryn was tempted to put an immediate bullet in the guy's head, but the crowd would probably remember that- and her face.

"Jack, get the door."

Her bodyguard, an older man with a grey beard who seemed to have kept his strength, wrenched at the door until it was open. He reached in and beckoned for the woman to come out.

Ilse was so shrinking violet but she was afraid of the glass.  She waved the man closer, deciding she had to trust him over the man in the front seat. 

"Please, can you pick me up?  I can stand up if you help me out of the car."  The man said nothing, merely nodded and scooped Ilse up from the pile of shattered glass, then, after brushing a few shards from her shoes, set her down on her feet as she's asked. 

"Danke- I mean Thank you."  She looked at Kathryn.  "Thank you as well." 

"You're quite welcome; I'm glad you're okay. You said this guy was trying to kidnap you. Any proof?"

Ilse was a bit shocked, well, quite a bit more than that, but she tried to compose herself.  

"I thought I was hailing a cab.  It looked like one after all.  But after we passed my destination I tried to get out and found there were no door handles in the backseat."  She tried not to stare at the woman in front of her, mainly because she was afraid that she'd see exactly how angry she was.  At her. 

"I took measures to ensure I wasn't taken. Alive or otherwise" 

Kathryn nodded.

"No proof- that's what I thought. But you did well to escape. My friend is a doctor who has a private clinic of her own just a few streets away. Would you like me to take you to her, Miss...?"

Kathryn leaves the question open ended, fishing a name, even as she points to the man in the car and mouths at Jack "trunk".

"Excuse me, madam? But no proof?  There weren't any door handles in the backseat!  Not even any door locks or anything to roll down the windows!  I have been in many a cab before and not a single one was so bereft of methods of egress!"  Ilse noticed her English was getting more formal and her accent was creeping up, but she was upset.  

"And of course I did well to escape, I believe that man intended to rape me!"  Her voice had gone up several octaves and she shrilled the last two words.  She was trembling now and she stumbled, her legs going weak from shock.  

"Im, sorry, I'm sorry." 

Kathryn put her gun away and walked over to the woman. Her blue eyes looked steadily at the stranger, and she lowered her voice.

"Look, you've got nothing to apologize for. I'm pretty confused myself with all this, obviously, and I wasn't even in the car. Let me start over. My name is Kathryn Renford. What's your name? And can I bring you to a doctor?"

"M-my name is Ilse Jager.  And yes please. I'd do well to see a doctor."  Tears began washing blood down Ilse's face but she made no more sounds, choosing instead to quietly follow Kathryn. 

Kathryn helped Ilse into the front passenger seat. Once she was seated, Kathryn tilted her head and Jack dragged the unconscious driver out of the car, depositing him into Kathryn's trunk. Kathryn climbed into the backseat and soon they were off, driving briskly towards Grace's clinic.

It has been several days since the near kidnapping and after Kathryn had taken her to a small clinic and made sure she was going to be alright, she had handed over a business card with well wishes.  Ilse found a small hotel run solely for women and was recuperating there when she finally decided to take a close look at the card.  

"Fire and Ice hmm?  Perhaps they are a fan of Dante?"   She phoned the club and made a reservation, then with the stipend Kathryn had leant her, went to get a proper outfit befitting a club named for two separate but distinct elements. After getting clothes she had her hair styled and finally went to the local bank and made a withdrawal big enough to repay Kathryn and hopefully cover any costs she might incur at the club. She took her time heading over, in no hurry particularly, and certainly not ready to take a cab yet, and found herself getting to the front doors of the building around eight o'clock. She sighed and opened one of the big double doors.  

"Here goes nothing."