As much as Thomas would owe him if he shot Luc unintentionally, Luc really didn't want to have a bullet in him. Not again. He cleared his throat and, feeling somewhat playful—probably thanks to the snow—said, "Allons-y!"
Statford struggled to open his snow-packed car door. One he managed that, he sank into the drift that had piled alongside the car.
"I was wondering when you were going to break cover, Thomas," Luc said.
"Better to be safe than sorry, Luc." Statford got into the Toyota. There was a thunk of all the doors unlocking. "Hop in. I need to talk to you."
The Toyota smelled only faintly of fried chicken, and probably only because Luc expected it to. More prevalent was the unnamable air freshener scent. Whatever aroma it was supposed to be was in need of replacing. Statford turned on the heater and sighed contentedly. He should have dressed better if he'd intended a frigid stakeout.
"So your message indicated. You have been waiting for me long?"
"A little while. I couldn't be sure when you got the message."
"I came as soon as I was told. You are a good friend, and your message sounded most dire." Growing warm, Luc opened his cloak. White as the powder outside, the garment did nothing to maintain his own body temperature. In the confines of the vehicle, it only got in the way. Statford, of course, couldn't help but ogle Luc's latest toy: the skintight bodysuit he was wearing underneath.
"What the hell is that?"
Luc only briefly went over the merits of the newest piece of Guild technology that had been released. While it was still technically in testing, Luc enjoyed being able to gloat over the sleek technological marvel. "Ah a beauty, is it not? It is a skinsuit, something I use in my line of work. It is an all-weather suit, allowing comfort even in the most terrible climates." He paused and spoke more slowly. "It keeps me warm when it is cold, and cool when it is hot."
Statford didn't rise to the insult. "I didn't call you here to discuss men's fashions, Luc."
"That much is certain, as you are still wearing two-year-old jeans," he replied.
"Everyone's a critic."
Luc smiled at Statford's sigh. Statford started the car, and after much coaxing, got it moving towards the nearest exit ramp. "I take it you heard about what's going on in my neck of the woods."
"Only that your car is no longer, and you were detained by the police."
"That's it? You didn't hear about the exploding guy at the movie theater, or someone getting a metal spike in their lung because of it? You don't know that Susana is out of town?"
Luc hid his frown. This was more than he'd known, but he didn't like admitting it. Thomas seemed to be of the mind that Luc knew everything that happened in Virginia Beach. Even into Hampton Roads and Newport News. Hell, Statford might think Luc knew everything that happened in the state of Virginia. Luc had never denied he knew everything. He'd implied it, and to a certain extent, the information he got from his administrators was comprehensive. But there was no way to know everything. And this unknown information, being so close to a person he did pointedly try to keep tabs on was disturbing. How had these happenings escaped his watchful network?
"I do not intrude on your life any more than you wish, Thomas," he said carefully. It was partly true, at least. "I do this out of respect and friendship both to you and Susana." That was more of a stretch. He pointedly avoided interacting with Susana. Better for both their careers if it stayed that way. "It is not my place to watch over you both, as I think it would be somewhat of an insult to have someone spy upon me." There. Plausible, respectful, and only about half untrue.
"I appreciate that, man, but someone is after me."
"Oh, that much is certain." He shrugged when Statford glanced at him sidelong. "Explosions are usually a good indicator that things are amiss."
Statford's following detailed account of the suicides, threats, and vehicular destruction told Luc that he had missed out on a lot. He would have to see to it that he stayed better informed, especially when something that was clearly supernatural was going on. This was fairly standard for goings-on with Statford. Angry gods and goddesses, crazed fanatics, and generally insane behavior all spawned by the deities that were apparently real. Luc still didn't like knowing all that he did about the nature of the gods, but what else was he supposed to do? Turn a blind eye? Danger on this scale could undermine the Guild he was trying so hard to keep alive.
"Anyway," Thomas said, "I've had to deal with a guy cutting his own heart out and another guy blowing himself up. They're either the most inept assassins on earth, or there's a reason they're pulling this crap. I'm open to opinions."
"Can you describe them?"
"Medium height. Hispanic. They might come from way down south. Past Mexico. That feels right to me. They wear the same tuxedos, they like stone knives and explosives. I don't know how many there are, but I'm willing to bet there's a bunch of them."
"Tuxedos? Interesting." Luc considered, tapping his fingers on the dashboard to punctuate his own thoughts. It helped sort between ideas. "Why do you think they are from so far south?"
"One of them left behind a feather from a quetzal bird. I did a little digging and found out the bird is from the Yucatan Peninsula."
"Google is making you lazy."
Thomas offered a small smile. "Not Google. An actual vet told me. I know how to do more than type, Frenchie."
Luc offered a small chuckle at the nickname. It had taken him months to classically condition Thomas to stop calling him Belgian. As small a reaction as a chuckle at least made the name-calling pin him to the right country. "You are a brave and foolish man. No wonder we are friends."
"Does any of that help?"
"I have found targets with less." Rather, Betty and Scout had. Statford didn't need to know that.
"These aren't targets, Luc. They're mine. I need answers. Not corpses."
"Hmph. You would be surprised what kind of information I can get from a body."
Thomas shook his head. "No, Luc. I need them alive. Something is very hinky about this whole thing."
After a brief explanation of what "hinky" meant, Statford went on. "I need to know what is going on and why. Someone got hurt, and even though I know it wasn't my fault, I feel like it is."
"So you have to find out how things are wrong and fix them in your completely misguided sense of honor. Tsk tsk tsk. Thomas, your sense of duty is going to get you killed one day."
Thomas's smile was chilling. "It won't be today."
He couldn't help but laugh at that. "You are a great man, Thomas Statford." He actually meant it. It had taken a fair few years to be able to accept that about the private investigator, but he was more real than most people Luc met. "No wonder the gods wish to be back in your good graces."
"What does that mean?"
"It is no secret that the gods are not pleased to have lost you. Insidia herself has approached me. Twice." He shivered at the goddess's attempted persuasions. At least Thomas was driving and didn't see the shivering. Luc made a dismissive gesture. "She tried to force me to, in her words, bring you to your senses. I told her that I may be your friend, but I will not force you into anything. You are much too stubborn and hard-headed for that." Not to mention, Luc still only had the vaguest idea exactly what it was Statford's position had been with the gods. He didn't blame the man for wanting out.
"What did she say?" Statford asked.
"She asked me to reconsider, before it was too late. Again, her words."
"Too late for what?" Statford turned the car. They had nearly reached Umbra Motus.
"She refused to say, only that you were being an obstinate fool, and blaming them for something they did not do."
"Bullshit they didn't do it!"
The explosion of words nearly made Luc jump. If he hadn't known Thomas for so long, he might have been startled. But he knew the man's temper. It could be short and like a bomb when he'd been wronged. From what Luc gathered, Thomas had indeed been wronged.
At least he recognized it, too. "Sorry, Luc. I just get so agitated with their constant claims of innocence. It's damned tiresome."
"Of course it is. Being betrayed is never something to be taken lightly, and you have that right. I am almost surprised you have not been more forceful with your refusals."
"There's only so much I can do to hurt a god. They may not be able to hurt me directly, but I can't hurt them directly, either." Thomas went on to make a not-so-veiled threat about what he would do to one of the deities if he could. He followed it with a comment on Umbra Motus's parking lot. Snow piled up in the medians and over the sidewalk, but the parking lot barely had a dusting. Even as they watched, a handful of Luc's initiates appeared, shovels in hand, and had the parking lot spotless in moments.
"You think you could help me find something out, Luc?"
Luc nodded. "I may need some time, of course. Will you be able to hold off any crazed rampages through the area while driving at high speeds?"
"I think I can, Frenchie."
Luc favored Thomas with his chuckle again. "Good. I should have something for you by sundown. What you have given me is enough, I think. I will look into it personally."
"Thanks, Luc. I owe you." Statford held out his hand.
It was probably the first time Statford had ever admitted it. At least, sincerely and in recent memory. Luc grasped Thomas's wrist rather than his hand. "We are friends, and friends do not owe one another. Perhaps one of these days, you will wake up and realize that."
Not that Luc meant it, of course. But he wasn't about to tell Statford that he owed more than he'd likely ever be able to repay.
"One day, Frenchie. Not today."
"Of course." Luc paused and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. "I have business to attend elsewhere tomorrow, but I will send a trusted apprentice to you."
"You won't call?"
Luc grimaced. "I cannot. Your mobile is still a bit worse for wear."
It was true, as Statford well knew. The man had been through more than hell, losing car and phone in rapid succession. "Right. Of course."
"I will have something for you. I promise. Get some rest, though. You need it." He stepped out of the car.
"I'm at Susana's. You can send the message there."
Luc gave him a genuine smile. "I know. Just because I don't keep my entire attention on you does not mean I do not know where you are, Thomas. Au revoir."
He moved easily into the warmth of Umbra Motus, wondering where the hell to even begin looking into what Thomas needed. This was a cluster if ever he'd seen one. He'd meant it when he said he'd look into it personally. Meaning, he'd personally ask Scout and Betty to do some digging. Might even be worth tapping Zaccheo in Japan, just to get into the larger network of administrators. If this was coming from South America, the Guild had a presence there. Luc just didn't know anyone personally that far south.
Thomas would owe him big for this one. It might be the kicker that made Luc finally stop keeping track. There would be no way Thomas would ever be able to repay something this serious.
14
Luc entered the guildhall-slash-academy as normal, expecting to see the customary quiet clusters of students and assassins relaxing for the evening. Classes for the day were mostly over this late, though there may be some Concealment lessons going on outside in the snowstorm, or a lecture in one of the classrooms.
Instead, the main room was totally empty and silent to boot. The silence wasn't unusual. The room being devoid of life was. Exhaling and then holding his lungs empty, Luc walked across the floor, heading for the hallway that would lead to the offices and his administrators.
Just over halfway across the room, Luc spun, a hand raising with a blade in it. The edge stopped a hair's width from the throat of one of the guild's apprentices. He'd only barely heard the approaching breath that had telegraphed the attack, but it had been enough.
"Too loud, TJ," he said, dropping his hand and slipping the blade back into its hiding place. Now and then, one of the apprentices got it in his or her head to try and ambush Luc. He encouraged the practice. It helped keep him sharp and gave them someone to hone their skills against. "Nice try, though." He turned to continue towards the offices.
"Father, um... about the contract I had."
Luc turned back to TJ, taking in the young man's furrowed brows and the frown nearly hidden by the mountain man-esque beard he'd stopped trimming last month. "Yes?"
"There was a... complication."
Luc waited. He didn't need to ask a question to get an answer. TJ, however, would have to speak in order to get any reaction. Luc could wait, if it was important.
"Sir, she was already dead."
Luc's own brows furrowed. "And?"
"Well, I would have guessed you did it, except... I mean, I was the only person assigned, wasn't I? Or did you have my rival sent without telling me?"
Now and then, two training apprentices were surreptitiously assigned the same contract. It was a step to training that Luc had added after the partnership stage, to help partners continue to improve their techniques while no longer relying on one another. He didn't recall discussing it with Betty or Scout for this contract, though. They always came to him for approval, first.
"Do you have photos?" Luc asked rather than answer the question.
"No, Sir, but--"
"I need to see the body. Where did you leave it? We'll take my car."
"Sir, I brought the body back."
Luc stared wordlessly at the apprentice for a moment. That was unusual. It set every alarm in his head ringing. Something was very wrong. "Show me."
Luc's comparison of the contract information with the body was brief. It was definitely her, and she was quite dead. A tiny prick, concealed among the liver spots on the back of her right hand, was all the evidence of the poison that had stopped her heart. Luc found that detail almost immediately and set the information aside to focus on the more troubling issue.
Someone had killed one of his people's marks.
A dark chuckle tried to escape him, but he held it back. Hadn't he just told Thomas that he could get a lot of information from a body? For a moment, he almost wished he hadn't taken his leave of the private investigator.
Luc was still pondering over the body and contract when another apprentice arrived with a body. Luc hadn't put out word to bring any here, but common sense said to alert the higher ups if something was strange. Marks clearly having been cut down before an assassin could get to them qualified as strange.
The third body came in less than half an hour after the first two. Luc wanted to swear. The first body had been intriguing, the second curious, but the third was purely infuriating. All three had been expertly robbed of life. No bruising, and only the barest of marks from needles showed on hand, cheek, and neck.
At first, Luc wondered if this might be connected to Thomas's request. But Statford had described the men he was after as sloppy killers, so the potential of that didn't last long. Besides, something else about the bodies had Luc very concerned. Once he'd discovered the not-so-hidden mark on the first body, he'd had the corpse moved to his personal rooms. That was where bodies two and three were now, set down by body number one. Luc immediately dismissed the young assassin who had brought in the third corpse. Once she was gone and the door closed, Luc flipped the body over. A few moments of struggling with the layers of coat and sweaters that covered the middle-aged man, he saw what he'd expected.
As with the other two bodies, there were other marks. There was no doubt they had been intended for Luc to find.
All three of the corpses' backs had been carved with so fine a blade that the letters had barely bled. What little crimson had seeped into the openings made them look as though they'd been written in red ink rather than cut into the flesh. Luc had to wonder if they'd been carved before, while, or after the bearer died.
This third body completed the message begun by the other two. Luc made a mental note to speak with Michel
le, the apprentice who had brought in the third corpse, about efficiency. Surely these bodies should have been found in order. But this last body held the middle of the message. Luc took a photo of the man's back and redressed him, then viewed the three photos on his phone, swapping between them to make sure he'd organized the words correctly.
Souviens-toi du nuit où tu ne pouvais pas respirer.
In English: Remember the night when you couldn't breathe.
Beneath the few words on each corpse was also part of an address. And on the last body, a time. It was hours until then, and the address not far away.
There was only one person the message could be from. If the words hadn't been clear enough, he found he actually recognized the handwriting. He'd seen it years ago, in Vienna.
The person who had killed his family back in Tours. The one who had lured him into a confrontation in Vienna.
They'd found him again.
"I don't have time for this," Luc said to himself. There was always too much to do, and now this message.
He checked the clock and sighed. A quick text message called for someone to get the three damned corpses out of his chambers. There were hours until the time carved into that flesh. Until then, he'd promised Thomas he'd take care of the issue of his personally and have something for him by sundown. He intended to keep his promise.
At least he'd already let Thomas know someone else would deliver the information. That was one small bit of stress relief.
Less than two minutes into his investigation, Luc was shaking his head at his computer. Within five minutes, he'd set the real geniuses of the guildhall to the task. As always, Betty and Scout set to their work with purpose, giving Luc time to take a shower and mentally prepare himself to once again face down the specter of his past. Because there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to this meeting.
This time, things would be different.
Luc only skimmed the information that Scout and Betty presented him with before calling TJ to him. With strict instructions to put the memory card containing the information straight into Thomas's hands alone, Luc sent the apprentice on his way. The man would stay by Thomas's side until Luc could join him. There was no doubt that Luc's help would be needed. That meant this meeting with his family's murderer would have to be short. Thomas wouldn't hesitate to take action on those people causing trouble for him. Luc would have to hope he would be there in time.
Luc Bertrand- American Assassin Page 21