He stopped when he came to the map of the city with all of the subway routes highlighted. He found Luxembourg gardens and saw he would have three train changes from where he was. “Good”, he thought to himself. “I’ll have time to practice some more surveillance on the way.” Garrett walked to the platform and waited for the first train on what would be a forty-minute ride to his destination. That afternoon, several subway passengers in the city Paris were totally oblivious to the fact that they had been targeted as practice subjects for an American with vengeance on his mind.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
The screeching wheels of the train came to rest as Garrett stepped onto the platform and walked towards the stairs that would lead him up to the street. His observation skills were coming back at a surprising rate, so much so that his mind was able to drift to other matters even as his subconscious kept track of the ‘targets’. When he got to street level, Garrett released his latest subject. He needed to find a room to stay in now, one near Simon, one with a view of both subway stations the assassin was likely to access.
Garrett walked until he found the street he was looking for. The street, on which Simon was supposed to be staying, branched off of this particular road. Garrett guessed he was within two to three blocks of his subject. That realization suddenly focused him. He had to be careful. Turning around, he looked across the busy thoroughfare and surveyed the buildings behind him. His eyes stopped moving as they found what he was seeking. There, across the street, was a small hotel. The main level was primarily a café, while the living quarters were on the floors above. Simon would have to walk this way to use the subway, eat, or shop. Garrett had found the place he needed.
He waited for the traffic light to change and crossed the street towards the townhouse style building he had chosen. Making his way through the tables on the sidewalk, he approached the registration desk. Garrett’s French was rusty so he decided to try English. The French, especially, Parisians, could be offended easily, but he found them to be most friendly if you tried to speak their language and acted like you truly respected them. “Parler vous Anglais?”
“Oui miseur”, the young man behind the desk answered.
“Thank you. Is this your hotel?” Garrett continued.
“Oui”
“It’s a lovely place. You should be proud. I really like the location, too.” The owner smiled upon hearing Garrett’s words. “Would you happen to have any rooms facing the front?” Garrett asked. “Even though it is more noisy, I like to look out and see activity on the street.”
“Oui. Of course, I do,” the owner responded standing a little straighter. Garrett’s compliments were having their desired effect. He continued, “I have a room on the second floor and one on the third floor.”
“I’ll take the room on the second floor,” Garrett responded without hesitation. A second-floor room would make it both easier and faster to get to street level. Besides, anyone walking in the area would be more likely to spot him in a third-floor window. A second-floor window would allow him to blend in more with the people on the street.
Garrett inquired about the rate. Satisfied, he filled out the registry. When he was finished, he pulled out some money and paid the owner a week in advance. This made the innkeeper even happier with Garrett. He asked the Frenchman, “Could you tell me where I can shop for some new clothes?”
Garrett was really on a roll now, because the Frenchman could direct Garrett to shops owned by his friends. The innkeeper would score points with his friends and, at the same time, assure that they would pay a few more visits to his café in return. Garrett thanked his host for the information and went upstairs to his room, fairly content with the knowledge that in the future he could count on the hotel owner for some favors if needed.
After settling in, Garrett left the hotel and walked down the street towards the shops the owner had recommended. He stopped in couple of stores until he had found all of the items he wanted. He changed into some of the new clothing and bagged the extra sets. From there, he stopped in a small wine shop and bakery, where he bought some wine, cheese, and baguettes. Garrett left the shop and headed down the street, away from his hotel. He wanted to familiarize himself with the whole area around Simon’s flat. Carrying shopping bags and wearing the new clothing helped him blend in better with the natives. Luckily, the bags he carried had handles, since his walk ended up being just over a mile in total.
After almost an hour, Garrett finally got back to the hotel. Once settled, he got out his street map and mentally retraced the steps of his afternoon walk. Simon’s flat was located on a street about two to three blocks south of his position. Three blocks further south was Luxembourg gardens. All of the property between the gardens and Simon’s flat was residential. No alleyways and only one side street existed between the two; and all of the streets in the immediate area, fed into the one across from Garrett’s hotel room. Garrett had chosen his spot well. If Simon had the need to get out, he would have to pass within Garrett’s field of vision, directly across the street.
Garrett was a bit confused. “Why would he box himself in like that?” he asked himself. Looking back at the map, he shook his head. No, he hadn’t missed anything. “If Simon is here, he must feel confident that no one will find him, or else he has an escape route that I can’t see,” Garrett muttered to himself. He sat in a chair he had placed before the window. Grabbing one of the baguettes, he tore off a piece, poured a glass of wine, and settled back, watching and waiting.
Garrett sat up that night until just after eleven P.M.. With no sign of Simon and all of the shops closed, he decided to retire and get some rest. The next morning Garrett went downstairs for breakfast. Positioning himself so he could get a panoramic view, he pretended to read the paper as he scanned the street. It was a beautiful morning, enhanced by the odors of coffee and food emanating from the cafes situated in the area. His meal came after a few moments and Garrett attacked the contents of his plate. All of the recent travel and activity had him feeling ravenous. As much as he was concentrating on his food, he kept an eye on the street. Twice during his meal, he thought he had spotted Simon, and both times he was wrong. Garrett finished his meal and waited a while longer.
Finally, he decided to go back upstairs and watch from the room. After paying the check, Garrett stood and turned to start upstairs. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a silver haired man. Stepping back into the shadows of the room, Garrett watched as the man crossed the street, and walked right towards the café. The hair on his neck stood on end as he recognized Simon. Trying to appear casual, he watched as the killer walked past the front of the building and continued down the street.
Now he hoped the practice time he had put in over the previous day would pay off. Tucking the paper under his arm, Garrett strolled out of the café and onto the street. He fell in behind Simon, who was striding purposefully down the street. Garrett followed him for several blocks until Simon crossed a street and entered one of the many shops in the area.
So far, Simon hadn’t given any indication that he knew he was being tailed. Garrett turned left at the corner and crossed over the busy street, taking up a position opposite the store. He waited, trying to look casual as pedestrians passed by. Fifteen minutes later, Simon left the store, carrying a bag of goods. He headed back the way he had come, making one more stop. Garrett, who was following across the street, ducked into a storefront doorway and waited. A few moments later, carrying yet one more bag, Simon left the store and headed back towards his flat.
Garrett shadowed him from across the street until he came to a spot about block from his hotel. There, he stopped and window shopped as Simon continued, crossing back over the boulevard and onto the same side of the road as Garrett. As Simon rounded the buildings and headed up the first side street, Garrett walked more briskly, closing the gap between them.
When he came to the corner, h
e slowed. Backing up to the wall, he inched towards the end of the building. Peeking around the corner, he spotted Simon on the street ahead. He stepped around the building and cautiously walked down the side street behind his subject. He had taken just four steps when Simon turned right, onto the street where his flat was located. Garrett hurried to the next corner and repeated the drill.
Less than a block ahead, on the opposite side of the street, Simon slowed. He lowered his bags and pressed some numbers on an electronic, wall mounted pad. Picking up his bags as the door opened, Simon entered the foyer of his flat.
Garrett stood for a moment and watched as the door closed behind Simon. He noted everything he could about the building and the surrounding area. Garrett now knew that Simon was indeed here in Paris and he knew where to find him. Turning back and heading towards his hotel, he had some preparations to make.
* * *
“But sir, I don’t really think that you want to go to that part of town,” the innkeeper protested. The owner was resisting giving Garrett directions to one of the seedier neighborhoods in Paris. However, at Garrett’s insistence, the owner finally relented and gave Garrett the general route.
“Thank you for your concern,” Garrett said, “but I can assure you that I’ll be O.K.. I have a background in reporting and have been in much worse places.”
The owner threw his hands up in exasperation. “It is out of my hands. I tried to warn you,” he said, turning attention to other matters.
The fact was, Garrett was actually looking forward to going to this bad neighborhood, and not only because he was going there to arm himself for his move on Simon. He also knew that being in a threatening environment would put his mind in focus for what he had to do. He thanked the innkeeper again, who ignored him, and started towards the subway.
Three trains and one hour later, Garrett exited the subway into the midafternoon light of Paris. The difference in the surrounding landscape was immediately noticeable. He had to make his way through the debris on the sidewalks as he walked to a street several blocks from the station. Garrett couldn’t help but notice the strange looks he got along the way. About halfway down the next block on his right, was a pub marked with an old sign, in obvious disrepair, hanging crooked. When he got to the entrance, Garrett took a deep breath and entered.
It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness inside, and when they did, he saw that all of the patrons of the pub were staring at him. Some stopped their conversations, others continued, but talked of him, no doubt. Garrett ignored their looks, walked confidently to the bar, and ordered a drink. The bar maid turned to serve him and Garrett felt some of the stares subside. When she came back with his drink, Garrett asked in broken French, “Does Pierre de Hue still own this place?” She just stared at him without any answer. He continued, “I’m an old acquaintance. We’ve done business in the past, so if you could get a message to him, I would appreciate it.”
She looked at Garrett for a moment more and then looked over his shoulder and nodded her head at someone. Garrett followed her look. He watched as the biggest Frenchman he had ever seen got up from his chair and approached him.
“I think you don’t belong in this place,” the man said.
Garrett looked up at the man and responded, “I’m only trying to look up an old associate who use to be the owner here. His name is Pierre de Hue. Do you know him, perhaps?”
The giant didn’t reply. He just stood, staring at Garrett, “You either don’t speak good French or you didn’t hear me. I think I asked you to leave,” he repeated.
Garrett nodded and looked around the room. All eyes were on him. “Maybe this was a mistake,” he thought to himself. It had been so many years since he had last been in the field, that maybe things had changed around here more than he thought. He looked back into the eyes of his challenger as he grabbed his drink.
Keeping eye contact, he took a sip and said, “I’m not here looking for trouble. I asked a simple question. If Pierre is not here, just tell me and I’ll leave. If he is here, he’ll want to know that I’m looking for him.”
Without hesitating, Garrett hit the tumbler against the bar shearing off the top edges. He now had a weapon, which he brandished in front of the other man’s face.
“Hold on François,” a voice said to Garrett’s right. “Let me see who comes into my place causing problems and asking for me.”
Garrett held the glass in place not daring to break eye contact. Footsteps approached him and a small Frenchman in his early 50’s stood next to his henchman.
“You look familiar to me but I need some help here,” he said, assessing Garrett.
Recognizing Pierre, Garrett responded without moving the glass, “About twelve years ago, we did quite a bit of business together. Some specialty items, custom ordered items,” he finished.
“And if we did?” Pierre asked.
“I needed to do some more shopping. Strictly off the shelf this time. I’m kind of in a hurry,” Garrett replied.
“Items needed in a hurry can get very expensive.”
Garrett managed a laugh. “I swear Pierre, you always did try to squeeze me for all you could. I’ve come prepared to pay you your price.”
Garrett had not taken his eyes off of the large man during the whole conversation.
“Maybe I just take your money and not give you anything,” the little man said, a sly grin on his face.
Taking his eyes off of the large man for the first time, Garrett stared down at him, “Pierre, if you do remember me, you know that I could kill the two of you right here, right now, before you could take a single step.”
The little man’s eyes widened and then narrowed. This time it was Pierre’s turn to laugh. “Garrett, it is you. There is no reason to be hostile.” He patted the giant on his arm, “François, it’s O.K.. Let him in.”
François didn’t move. “You couldn’t kill either of us,” he said, sneering at Garrett.
“François!” Pierre shouted, “I know this man, and as good as you are, he could do exactly what he said. Don’t feel insulted. This man one of the best I’ve ever seen. You could learn from him.”
The large man moved back, his ego a little hurt by his boss’s comments. Garrett started following Pierre to a back room behind the bar. Stopping momentarily, he turned and addressed the giant, “François, for what it’s worth, I’m glad it didn’t have to come to that.” Garrett’s attempt at repairing the large man’s ego was accepted.
When the two men were in the back room alone, Pierre addressed Garrett.
“So, what brings you back to the continent? I’d heard that you quit this game some time ago,” Pierre inquired.
“I did,” Garrett answered, “quit, that is. This…this is personal.”
Raising an eyebrow, Pierre responded, “I see. It must be really personal, taking the chance you just did.”
Garrett did not respond.
“Well no matter,” Pierre continued. Tell me what you need and I’ll see if I have it.”
Garrett rattled off his shopping list. “I need both a 9mm and a small-bore pistol, .22 caliber if you have it, both silenced; some knives; small field glasses with night vision capability; and some piano wire. If you have any machine pistols, I’ll take two.”
Pierre grabbed his keys and opened the gate to his vault. It was large enough to be in a typical bank. Garrett had always wondered where he had gotten the thing, but never had asked. Following Pierre in, he saw rows of weapons lining the walls. Pierre took a few moments and chose the items Garrett had requested.
When he was done, he pulled out his HP12C financial calculator and started punching in numbers. Garrett smiled and shook his head as he watched him work the keys. Pierre finished his calculations and held the display towards Garrett.
“These are the damages my friend,” he said with the smile of an alligator.
Sardonically, Pierre replied, “You hurt my feelings, trying to make me feel like I would overcharge you.”
Garrett reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. Counting out the bills, he paid Pierre’s price. He threw in some extra money, “Go ahead and give me the ammo,” as he named off the number of magazines and rounds he would need. He reached down and grabbed a vest that could hold much of the equipment, “You can afford to throw this in.”
Pierre started to protest but thought better of it. “It had been a profitable afternoon, so why get greedy?” he thought.
When Garrett finished packing the gear, he offered his hand to Pierre, “Good doing business with you, again, Pierre.”
The little man took Garrett’s hand, “Come back and see me soon.”
Garrett left the pub with his wares. This time as he walked through the bar, no one paid him any attention. He retraced his steps back to the subway and settled in for the trip home.
Over an hour later, Garrett was back in his room. He stowed his bag of weapons in the corner of the closet and went downstairs for dinner. As he ate, Garrett once again scanned the street for signs of Simon. However, this time instead trying to find the assassin, he was trying to avoid being spotted by him. He would be seeing Simon again soon enough, but this time, it would be on Garrett’s terms.
Millenium Strike Page 11