A little bell attached to the entrance door chimed and into the bakery walked a man in a very nice black suit with a black tie, polished black shoes and black aviator shades. He immediately walked past all the baguettes, croissants, and bagels to approach the counter. He stood for a small second at the empty counter and then yelled “Hey Herman, you in the back!?”

“Just one moment!” A gravelly voice called back. As promised a moment later a short balding man with a black mustache came walking out from the kitchen in a flour covered apron. His face lit up and he said: “Dallas! My god how’ve ya been!?”

“Oh, not too bad. You know the stock game keeps me busy.” The suited man named Dallas replied.

“Bah, stocks!” Herman waved his hand dismissing the career choice. “I could never work a job like that. Numbers numbers numbers… blech!”

“Oh Herman its not all bad. There’s lots of money involved.” Dallas explained. “You should drop this little bakery shop and join the rat race. Think about the future Herman.”

“I am quite happy in the bread world thank you.” Herman said while dusting flower off his hands. “Now what can I get ya?”

“Ah I need a fresh loaf of your finest french bread for dinner. Ive got a woman coming over. Cooking her a nice meal.” Dallas grinned.

“Ah Dallas you sly devil! Ill fix you right up.” Herman turned around to a shelf that held some loaves of bread and dug through them for the best one.

Meanwhile, Dallas’s cellphone started ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out and studied the number for two rings before answering it. “Hello. . . Compromised!? WHERE!?”

The phone conversation turned drastic quite suddenly. Herman took notice and turned. Dallas was motioning to him for a pen and paper. A set was provided on the counter and Dallas quickly scribbled something down.

“Alright. Ill be there in 20! I want them alive!” And then Dallas hung up the phone and pulled Herman by his collar over the counter. “Listen, buddy. I need to borrow your car.”

“My Car!?” Herman struggled against the surprising firm grip of Dallas. “What do you need my car for!?”

“Work emergency! Now come on!” Dallas was ordering. He let go of Herman and hopped over the counter and took off through the back of the bakery.

Herman threw up his hands in utter confusion. “Work emergency!? What kind of stock emergency requires my car!? Hey wait up!”

Within moments Herman was scrambling to buckle the seatbelt in the driver’s seat. “Dallas what the hell is going on!? Why am I driving?”

“We need to go to La Grunta Airport fast! Step on it Herman!”

Herman obeyed and pulled out of the bakery, and taking a sharp right onto the street. “I didn’t even lock up my store! You mind telling me what this is - OH MY GOD DALLAS!”

Herman nearly slammed on the breaks in shock. In the passenger seat, Dallas had two black pistols out, loading them with bullets. The car lunging forward sent loose bullets all over the dashboard.

“Dammit Herman, keep driving!” Dallas barked. “You know how to use one of these?”

“Dallas I don’t want to be a murderer!” Herman announced with a frightened stutter.

Dallas took a large breath, held it in for a moment and then let it out slowly. “Okay Herm. I have to let you in on a little secret.”

“What!?”

“I’m a spy. A CIA operative. I don’t know the first thing about stocks.”

“What!? No way…” Herman cast him aside not believing a single word.

“Herman its all true. My department was holding a very dangerous man and he escaped and we believe he means harm. We have to get to the airport and stop him!”

“We’re chasing after a madman!? I am no cop Dallas, I am a baker!”

“This is a matter of life and death! Time is ticking! I need your help to bring this guy down!” Dallas pleaded. He then shoved a pistol into one of Herman’s hands. “Trust me on this one buddy. You are doing your country a great service.”

“This is insane!” Herman protested. “You have lost your mind!”

A few moments later, Herman came weaving in and out of taxies and skidded to a halt right outside the airport entrance. Both of them drew their pistols and Herman followed Dallas inside.

Immediately they were bombarded with security. Dallas cleared a path with his badge and Herman followed. Soon they were off in a mad dash through the airport. Dallas pulled out his phone as they ran and dialed a number.

“Yes. . . We’re here. Which one? 14? Got it!”

Herman’s heart raced as he watched the numbers on the terminals rise. 8… 9… 10… His heart imagined a mad bomber blowing the place to bits. He imagined a crazed gunman opening fire at them. 11… 12… 13…

Dallas rounded the corner first with his pistol extended far. Herman, hesitantly stuck his face around the corner. Rather anti-climatically, the entire terminal was quiet. A few random passengers sat, awaiting a plane. They both stood there frozen for a moment, unsure of what to think. Then Dallas began to slowly pace towards the passengers, eyeballing each one of them. He stopped at a young woman in olive green clothes, reading a book. He put the pistol to her forehead. “Up!”

The woman’s eyes glanced upward at Dallas. Very calmly she asked “What took you so long?”

“Careful, Herman. She’s very dangerous.”

“Don’t flatter me.” The woman said. Suddenly she pushed up and knocked Dallas off balance by surprise. With a high kick she sent Dallas and his pistol flying.

Herman, too nervous and excited squeezed the trigger on his pistol and narrowly missed the woman. The entire airport all dived to the ground in pure chaos and screams.

The woman took off through one of the employee doors.

“After her! Don’t let her get away!” Dallas shouted.

Herman began the chase. First he went down a long narrow hallway filled with airport employees. Some were already knocked over. Then he entered a very large kitchen. He followed the trail of destruction and stepped over broken dishes and spilled pots. This led into a stairway. Herman looked down and could see the woman entering a doorway two floors down. Nearly tripping over his feet, he took the steps two or three in one stride. Soon he burst through the door and into a concrete garage. The woman was in an all out sprint now.

“Oh you gotta be kidding me!” Herman gasped through heavy breathing. He huffed in two more breaths before taking off after the woman once more.

Herman rounded a corner and found himself running out onto the tarmac where planes were being readied for take off. The woman was sprinting towards a plane that was already beginning to roll down the runway.

“Stop!” Herman yelled.

“Shoot her!” Came a voice behind Herman. It was Dallas, at the edge of the tunnel they had just ran out of.

Herman began unloading the pistol in rapid succession. In the distance by the moving plane the woman clutched her leg and fell down. But rather suddenly she was back up and limping up to one of the wheels. She scrambled up onto the tire and then up into the plane as it rolled away faster and faster.

Disappointed, Herman took a few more steps towards the runway. By his feet in the grass he noticed something small and shiny. It was a cellphone. He picked it up curiously. It had a cracked screen but still worked.

Herman met back up with Dallas at the edge of the tunnel. “I wounded her I am sure of it!” Herman said, still feeling the adrenaline rush of the chase.

“Not just a baker anymore are ya Herm?” Dallas laughed.

“What happens now?” Herman asked.

“Well I reckon we have a flight to catch and a girl to capture in Paris.”

“We!?”