What followed was the longest escalator ride of Luc's life. No one seemed at all interested in taking a single step forward when the escalator could do the work for them. Except for those in front of The Woman. Her lead on him increased as she moved on, while he was stuck behind people whose legs apparently didn't function on moving stairs.
Once he was finally under his own power again, he struggled to make up the lost distance. Only a handful of meters from the escalator, though, he realized he'd somehow lost sight of her. Fighting panic, he made himself stand still, breathe, and look. He didn't scan the crowd; his eyes settled on each person one by one, taking them in for a split second before confirming they weren't her and moving on. He was losing more time, but it was less than if he barreled off in the wrong direction.
A flash of tidy hair registered to him, and the cell phone held to an ear. She was nearly to an exit that boasted approved taxi services. No plane. She was leaving. Luc sped up, his teeth splintering the toothpick's end in his teeth, which would have been soggy if his mouth hadn't been so dry. He hurriedly tapped out "Taxi" and sent one last text. It wouldn't do any good. Unless Gilles happened to have gotten there already, it was too late for him to.
Luc stepped into the open air of the taxi wait area to find The Woman waiting for him. Her phone was out of sight. There was no doubt she was waiting for him, specifically, considering she was staring straight at him. Of all the people they'd passed, all those still milling in the area, she had somehow singled him out. Even underneath a pair of sunglasses that now obscured her eyes, he knew she was seeing straight through him.
His worries had been right; she had expected the Guild to send someone.
He'd been found out.
7
There was something to be said for the average person's willingness to ignore things they didn't want to see. At least three dozen other people were waiting for taxis, entering taxis, leaving taxis, or driving taxis.
Not a one of them remarked the face-off in their midst. While Luc felt the constraint of publicity, he doubted The Woman had the same restriction on her behavior. She could kill him without worry about revealing the existence of the Guild. But would she? Her gaze chilled him even through the dark lenses hiding her eyes.
"One uh ya need a taxAY?" someone shouted out of a taxi window.
"Just a moment, thank you," The Woman replied, turning to look at the questioner. That simple gesture only worsened Luc's tension. She knew what he was. Even knowing that, she turned away from him. She was inviting his attempt, or maybe just sending a loud message that she viewed him with contempt. Any attack on his part would be met with failure.
Maybe death.
She paused a handful of seconds longer than made sense before turning back to face Luc. Was he seeing things, or did the corners of her mouth raise the tiniest bit at seeing he hadn't moved even a millimeter while her eyes were off him? She knew what he was, he knew she knew, and she knew that he knew that she knew.
Luc had faced death a thousand times. He'd stared down the barrels of guns, felt blades against his skin, been starved for days, and even watched blood leak slowly out of him without stopping. In this moment, he knew true fear. He'd even spoken to a goddess who had the power to transport him across the world.
In The Woman, he saw real power.
Luc was scared. Legitimately frozen-boned, on-the-verge-of-wetting-himself scared.
"Was there something you needed, young man?" The Woman asked, holding his gaze.
Luc attempted to clear his throat, but he couldn't seem to muster the air. What fraction of a breath was in his lungs came out in two words. His arm lifted to gesture at the waiting taxi. "After you," he said.
But in true rude, self-serving, American fashion, the taxi that had been waiting was already leaving with a passenger in its back seat. Another four taxis followed it in a parade, the line of vehicles moving nearly as one. More people shifted about, looking for prime places to wait for the next rides to come.
The Woman still stared at Luc. He stared back, afraid to make the first move. The toothpick was soft between his teeth, though all his saliva was long gone. His tongue felt thick and ungainly. Air came in and out in shallow breaths that made him lightheaded.
Then came the movement. Only, it wasn't from her. Somehow, Gilles appeared, well behind The Woman. His chest rose and fell rapidly, seeming to heave as it tried to make up the breaths Luc couldn't get. He hesitated only for a second or two before dashing toward The Woman's back. His bag thudded loudly against him with each step. One hand reached for something in his pocket.
Luc couldn't seem to make his limbs respond in real-time. He'd been slammed into slow-motion while everything else was fast forwarding around him. A taxi braked loudly to a halt nearby. The Woman turned her face away from Luc again, but this time, she continued until her back was also to him. She faced the oncoming Gilles with the same unchanged posture she'd faced Luc with.
There was no gunshot. It wasn't that Luc didn't hear it; there simply wasn't one. Yet as if shot, Gilles came to an abrupt halt. His face drained of color. Either Luc's sense of time sped back up to normal, or Gilles slowed down to join him, because the movement of the other Frenchman's head to look down at his shoulder took an agonizingly long time. The movement was jerky and shocked.
The Woman turned again to face Luc. Her hands were empty. Whatever trick she had, it was a good one, and one that Luc currently lacked the mental capacity to try to understand. He gaped. The Woman raised her eyebrows, waiting for his next move. When he remained still for a handful of seconds, she tilted her head towards Gilles. Not caring if it was permission or a dare, Luc rushed past her. He waited for the stab, the shot, or whatever was about to come that would steal his air and eventually his life.
It didn't come.
He reached Gilles before the other man even sank to his knees. Luc pulled Gilles's good arm around his own shoulders to help him remain standing, hoping it might lessen some of the scene that was unfolding. Only now that he was close enough could he smell the tang of blood and see the place where the silent bullet had entered his friend. There was barely a mark on Gilles, but the effect was obvious in his clammy skin and gasping breaths.
Luc finally tore his eyes away from Gilles long enough to look at The Woman.
She was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't say he was surprised.
The world was returning to normal in the little taxi terminal. Time sped back up, and within moments, Luc found himself gently ushering Gilles into a taxi.
"The nearest hospital," Luc instructed the driver. Then, more quietly to Gilles, he asked, "What's the secrecy word here? For medical attention?"
Gilles's eyes seemed clear for the moment, but he wasn't about to risk the other man succumbing to his wound before they could get help. The secrecy word should, if the Guild's surreptitious influence was strong here, get Gilles his help with no questions asked. Administration would pay a hefty fee for it, but they were too far from the guildhall to wait for a Guild medic to tend to the injury. Public medicine would have to do.
"Anticipatory," Gilles replied. He paused and let out a rough chuckle. Light was still in his strained gaze, so Luc didn't think he was in too much danger, but he was no doctor. "Old bat has some serious tricks, huh, Luc?
Luc had to admit that she did.
"You should've moved when I did. Attack from both sides. She couldn't have taken us both down."
Luc doubted that very seriously, but he said nothing. Gilles hadn't seen The Woman's face as he had. He hadn't watched her assess him and known in that moment that he was found wanting. One glance had made him see just how wanting he was; he had known in that instant that they would fail, no matter what they did. Her attack on Gilles had been calculated. That was his out, her way to let him escape having to try.
"We said both of us alive is most important, Gilles. Let's keep you alive," Luc said.
8
Gilles seemed to go through the worst of his shock there in the cab on
the way to the hospital. Luc held him as he had once before when he'd been poisoned back in Vienna. Why did the people around him always seem to be the ones hurt, instead of him? In the depths of his mind, Luc hoped beyond hope that this hadn't been some trick of Insidia's, manipulating events so Luc was spared. He voiced none of those misgivings, though, instead murmuring comforts to Gilles in their native French. As the interminable minutes of the cab ride passed, Gilles went paler and paler. An age later, the cab finally crept off airport property and promptly came to a stop in Los Angeles's normal rush hour traffic.
Luc wanted to scream. It had felt like hours, but a glance at his watch made him double check himself. Only about thirty minutes had passed since the encounter with The Woman. And the cab was moving. They couldn't be that far from a hospital, could they?
Another ten minutes passed, at the end of which Luc finally saw a sign with an arrow and a large H, telling him they were at least getting closer. Less than a handful of seconds after passing that sign, Gilles's eyes opened. They didn't flutter open as often happened when the injured or ill came to. They popped open as if he'd heard his morning alarm after a night of restful sleep. Rapidly, Gilles looked around, taking in the cab, the passing shops and pedestrians outside the windows, and Luc.
"What happened?"
Color rapidly returned to Gilles's face. He seemed lucid. As Luc gave him a shortened version of events in French, Gilles kept his eyes focused and nodded his understanding. By the time Luc was finished, Gilles had pulled away and was sitting up on his own. There was only a brief wince of pain as his shoulder shifted. Gilles didn't say anything right away once the telling was over. By the time the silence between them had lasted two minutes, though, the cab came to a stop at the hospital entrance. Luc paid the driver as Gilles pulled open his coat and shirt to peer at his wounded shoulder.
"Hey, where's the nearest bus terminal?" Gilles asked.
The cabbie blinked at him for a few moments and said, "Back at the airport, probably."
"Take us there, then," Gilles replied. "I'll tip you well for your troubles. Sorry about this. Luc, get back in the car."
Confused, Luc climbed back in and closed the door behind him. He couldn't keep the worry from his face. Gilles seemed fine, but this could be further shock. Sometimes it manifested as a seeming recovery while the injured person was actually getting worse. Luc wanted to shout for the driver to stop. He wanted to force Gilles out of the cab and into the hospital to get the bullet out of him. But there was Gilles, staring at his phone. He had the thing turned sideways and was tapping away on the little slide-out keyboard.
"Good, there's a bus back to San Diego leaving at ten after seven. We'll be back home late, but we'll get there before midnight, at least."
Luc finally found words. "What the hell?"
Gilles glanced up. After a brief flick of his eyes at the cabbie, he reached up and pulled aside the collar of his coat and shirt so Luc could see the wound.
The front of his shoulder was stained red. Had Gilles not been wearing black, then the fabric of both shirt and coat would have shown all the blood. Luc leaned closer.
"That's not blood," he muttered.
Gilles shook his head. "Touch it. Go on. It's sore, but it doesn't really hurt that badly."
Luc gently prodded Gilles's shoulder and felt only smooth skin beneath. That was, until he found a small, round welt. Once his fingertip brushed that, Gilles grimaced. "Impact point," he said. He let his shirt go but fingered a tiny hole in his coat. "Whatever she shot weren't bullets. Some sort of capsule, maybe? I swear I felt skin break. That shot hit like a truck. And... I thought I was going to die. I felt so cold. My heart slowed down. I could feel myself slipping away, Luc. But now, now I feel fine. I could run a 10K and not have a problem."
Luc continued to stare at Gilles's unmarred shoulder, his mind sorting possibilities. "Some kind of topical neurotoxin? And a false blood pack?"
"Maybe. Would have had to be high tech to make that much fake blood. Thing had to be tiny. Look at the hole. And no skin break. Makes you wonder who she's working for, doesn't it?"
Luc only nodded, but his thoughts, as always, went to the Knights Templar. He wouldn't say it, though. Not in front of Gilles. There was still a sore spot there despite how resolved things seemed to be. There was one more question though, and that one he did ask. "Why not just kill you? She had the opportunity. She had the means, I'm sure. She's killed assassins before. That woman is horribly dangerous and deadly. Why spare you?"
"That's a hell of a question, isn't it?" Gilles asked. "Wow... that was fast." He leaned forward and paid the cabbie, including a tip that made the man's jaw drop. "Let's go. Bus will still be a while, but I'm hungry as hell."
9
Gilles's calm acceptance of having been manipulated into thinking he was dying grated on Luc. Neither of them spoke of it the entire long bus ride back to San Diego, though Luc very badly wished to. As always, his mind was weighing possibilities and implications. Who was The Woman, exactly? What organization did she work for that had such drugs at their disposal? What was her game? And why had she spared both Luc and Gilles when she'd already killed assassins before?
"You need to get a grip," Gilles said as they walked their roundabout construction site route into the West Coast guildhall. "You'll drive yourself nuts trying to make sense out of every little detail. You're all about the conspiracy theories, Luc. Chill out once in a while. Play some D and D with friends or something."
"D and D?"
"You used to be such a nerd. What happened to you?"
Luc didn't respond, but he couldn't keep a blush from rising in his cheeks. The moment Gilles had replied, the letters had resolved themselves in his mind. D and D. Dungeons and Dragons. Of course. Luc would have loved to play that. Once. A lifetime ago. Now, not only was there no time, but there weren't exactly any people he'd be willing to let go and play with. Luc Bertrand…
He'd been about to think "Luc Bertrand didn't have friends," when Insidia's words came back to him. He needed friends. He even did have some. Well, one. But in another few days, Luc would be heading back to the other side of the country from that one friend.
"You going to help me with the paperwork on this?" Gilles asked. They'd reached his office, and Gilles settled at his computer. "Report another failure on taking out this mark?"
"That's… never fun." Luc seated himself, wincing at the effort it took him to admit that fun even existed. Gilles's question earlier was sitting on his brain like a one-ton weight.
What happened to you?
It was the tail end of something Gilles was saying that made Luc's heart stop. "What was that?"
Gilles looked as though he'd just been startled. "I was saying that name sounds Italian, doesn't it? How did someone Italian end up assigned to Japan?"
"What name?"
The other assassin's eyes flicked back to his computer screen. "Zaccheo Licata. I swear, we get assigned far from home on purpose. The guild really does try hard to make us uncaring, don't they? Detached. And then they give us in-house therapy. It's good, but I don't—"
"Zaccheo Licata?" Luc interrupted.
"Licata, yeah." Gilles paused. "You know him?"
If Luc hadn't already been sitting, he would have gone weak in the legs. Zaccheo. "Yeah. We were in the academy together. He…he was my best friend back then."
Gilles smiled, but it transformed into a frown almost immediately. "You say that like you haven't spoken to him since."
"I haven't. We…fell out of touch after graduation. After he graduated." Luc let out a mirthless chuckle. "I was afraid for him back then. I really was. His final exam…the blood on his hands… I wonder who they made him kill. It was messy. He was really screwed up after that. I didn't know if he'd make it or if he'd be…disposed of as unfit." He paused and looked up. "He's an admin in Japan now?"
With a nod, Gilles replied, "Looks like it. Do you really think the guild would do away with a resource? Any resour
ce? Our numbers are low enough worldwide and only shrinking every day. We're losing older assassins and even active ones to death faster than we can train new ones. Academy classes are shrinking, and we've even had to close fifteen academies over the last three years." He paused. "Please tell me you knew that."
"No."
"You do know that the East Coast Academy is the biggest and most successful academy in the world, right?"
Biggest? Thinking of how few students and assassins he actually had there made him go pale.
"We're a dying breed, Luc," Gilles said. "You at least realize that, right?"
He nodded. Gilles stared at him for a few minutes, then literally shook to dismiss the conversation. "Anyway, this report. You want to type or dictate your part?"
An hour later, Luc and Gilles were leaving the West Coast guildhall to go back to Gilles and Damien's flat. Two more days passed in relative inactivity. At least, when compared to the frantic trip to, assault at, and return from LAX, it was inactive. Luc met all of Gilles's personnel, which totaled twenty-two including Gilles himself. No students were expected incoming for the next three years at least, and at least five of the current staff would likely either be killed, incapacitated, or retire in that time. Luc didn't really feel as though his whole reason to come out here was valid. He'd been meant to help the new guild head adjust to American life. Gilles fit in perfectly. His staff already appeared relaxed and confident in him. It was what Luc had spent months upon months working for on the east coast, but he couldn't be jealous. Better for Gilles not to struggle with it. He had a personal life that might have suffered for it.
When Damian and Gilles dropped Luc off at the airport to head back home, Damian attacked with a hug and stuffed a baggie of cookies into Luc's hand. "I'd say don't eat them all at once, but dammit, Luc, you need some sugar in your life. If I could shove them down your throat, I would. I might have hidden the rest of the batch in your baggage, too. Eat those all at once, too, please. No sharing."
Luc Bertrand- American Assassin Page 19