This was the most action that Rick had ever gotten in his life, and that was saying a lot. What worried Rick was that he guessed that Maria was the type of woman who could just up and leave him one day without a second thought. Of course he was the same way. She had been around a lot of men and she knew how to use their weakness. He guessed she was doing it to him now but it was so hard not to give in. He was sure he would lose her fast if he wasn’t careful. This hot, fast, and dirty relationship was the sure fire way of her getting board with him. He knew he couldn’t be clumsy and assume that she liked it like a man liked it, even though she was the one instigating it fast and frequently. Rick was sure she was doing a lot of this to please him. But was it a game to her? Well, he decided, it didn’t really matter if it was or not. He had time now and he also knew how to put on the moves. It was his turn to see if he could make her melt.
The train bounced sideways as it flew over a slightly uneven section of the track. Rick took the moment to take control. He grabbed her roaming hand and pinned it against her body. Then in a blur of movement that years of martial arts training had given him, he grabbed her whole body, pulled her in close and did a leaping-spinning-thing with her, pinning her under him against the wall of the train and the bed. He smiled wickedly down at her and began a lengthy make-out session. It developed aggressively but playfully, kissing intermingled with some nibbling and soft biting on her lower lip and earlobes. It was at least a 30-mile tease. Then he moved to her collarbone and kissed her slowly, working his way from her left should to the middle. He mimicked the movement with his fingertips on her right shoulder then stopped just short of the “hot zone” in the middle. Rick continued to tease her slowly by touching and kissing her everywhere but the place he suspected she wanted it to the most. This was his battle to test his skill in the art of seduction and love making. He kissed her neck again, moved right and nibbled her ear and then engaged in deep, wet kissing while he ran his hands all through her dark red hair.
He could tell he was having the desired effect as she shuttered again in his embrace. The foundation he was going for was to force some mischievous stress on her and then begin to telegraph anticipation while taking the stress away a bit at a time until she was relaxed and enjoying the experience. Now that he had built up the moment, he rolled away and waited. It didn’t take long. Maria, the exotic Spanish beauty that she was, pounced. He let her do whatever she needed, but it was impossible for him to not enjoy it too. Afterwards they slept well for a two hours.
Maria woke to find Rick sitting on the floor with his shirt still off, his back to the cabin door, his gun in pieces, and a dopey smile on his face.
“Good morning beautiful.”
“Good evening to you too.” Rick said as he moved his attention away from the gun barrel. “It’s not morning anymore. It’s almost seven o’clock at night.”
“I know; it’s just something I like to say when I wake up.”
“You sleep well?”
“Fabulously! You?”
“Like a baby.”
“Um, why do you do that?”
“Do what?’
“You know, clean your gun all the time. Is it like an obsession for you or something?” There was a hint of criticism in her voice.
Rick looked quizzically back at Maria with one eyebrow raised, not able to tell if she was talking about him actually stripping down and cleaning the components of his guns or if she was making reference and teasing him about something else.
“No, you dork!” She said after a few seconds of Rick staring back at her. She reached back and threw her pillow at him. “You know what I am talking about,” she said as she pointed to the gun parts scattered at his feet.
“Oh. Well, in that case it is something that my ‘Pa’ taught us when we were young and is a habit I always do. He would always say, ‘Having a good firearm carries a number of responsibilities with it. One of the most important is to care for it. If you don’t properly care for your gun it gets damaged and ultimately performs no better than a giant paperweight at the moment you need it.' Anyway, guns are simple to clean and it only takes a few minutes so there is really no excuse not to doing it.”
“Will you teach me how then?”
“Sure thing; come sit down here.”
“Is that Xochi?”
“Is this what?”
“You know, Xochi, my gun you bought for me. I call her Xochi.”
“You named your gun?”
“Sure, it gives her personality.”
“OK then. ? No this one is mine.” Rick said as he wondered about her sanity while he reached into his bag and pulled out her H&K P30 9mm. “Here’s Xochi.”
“Great, what’s first?”
“Well, the first thing you need to do when you take down a firearm is to make sure it is clear and safetied. You need to automatically drop the magazine before you go any further. So if there are live rounds in there you are assuring there are no more to be feed into the weapon. From there, we retract and release the slide with enough force so if there is a round in the chamber it will come out. When it comes back you use the take down lever to lock the slide to the rear. Then you always do a physical and visual check to make sure it is clear.”
“You always check it both with your finger and your eyes? It seems a bit redundant.”
“I can’t tell you how many times my uncle Floyd would ramp me on the head when I didn’t. But now I am in such a habit that I just do it without thinking. It’s a good practice.”
“I can see why. You don’t want to go and shot yourself.”
Rick gave her a wink. “Or your buddy sitting next to you. Bad things happen when you combined lazy with thoughtlessness. Anyway, when you are done with clearing and safety-ing your gun you are ready to break it down. See that lever on the front above your trigger. That is the takedown lever. You turn it to the vertical position and then retract the slide back and then forward, sliding it all the way off. Inside you can see the recoil spring and guide. Take these out and put them to the side. Now you grasp this unlocking lug on the bottom of the barrel and lift it up and out thereby taking the whole barrel out of the slide. The last thing you do is separate the recoil spring and guide and the gun is done. But it isn’t considered field stripped until you also strip the magazine too.”
Maria followed Rick’s directions as he demonstrated with his own gun. They reassemble the guns and practiced a few more time until she found she could do it quit easily.
“What’s next then?”
“The magazine. After taking all the shells out, you hold the magazine upside down with your thumb on the back. Taking a tool like this, you press the depression down and then slip out the floor plate and use your thumb to hold and control the spring tension inside. You take out the insert, remove the spring and then flip it over and let the follower slip out. Easy, right? Now your weapon is totally field stripped.”
“You make it look so easy.”
“Well, it takes some practice to be able to do it fast but there isn’t much to it.”
The train’s PA system chimed into the cabin followed by a friendly female voice that announced: “Mesdames et messieurs, nous arriverons bientôt à la station de Gare de Lyon.” (Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon be arriving at the Gare de Lyon train station.)
“We are here already? Wow these trains are fast.” Maria said. “A trip like this back in Bolivia would have taken at least two days.
Rick stood and raised the shutter on the cabin window. Early twilight was upon the old gray stone buildings of Paris. A few lights were one in the district the train was passing. Narrow cobblestone streets raced past the window revealing the densely populated area. They were clearly in the heart of the city.
“Looks like it is time to clean up.”
Maria just stared out the window in amazement. Rick could tell she was excited. He cleaned up the guns quickly by himself and put them in his secure bag. Then kicking the other bag they had used to get through customs back in Sete to the door, he turned to see Maria still staring in amazement at the city as the train pulled into Gare de Lyon station.
“Come on cuttie,” he extended his hand to her as the train came to a stop. “Let’s go have some fun.”
“What are we going to do first?”
She was almost like a little girl in a toy shop. This was her first time to be in a large modern city. They had only skirted London when they came in from South American and never really saw any of it. Malta and Sete had seemed big to her but this was Paris, “the city of lights!” Even though her home back in Bolivia had almost a half million people in it, it was a poor place that had been through too many wars and revolutions to have anything of a history or infrastructure that presented itself as these old European cities did. Paris was solid and stable. It was Europe that allowed animals to be co-equal to humans and here they were living together side by side without the enmity from the empire hanging over them.
“Well, I am thinking you want to do some shopping. Then we can get dinner somewhere nice and then hit the clubs. What do you think?” He asked as they walked down the train’s narrow hallway to the exit.
“Wonderful. I know just what I am looking for!”
They stepped off the train onto the huge station platform. Purplish pink twilight filtered in through the massive metal trusses and giant glass skylights. The architecture of the station was early 19th century, the same as the Eifel Tower. Masses of people milled about the place. Maria tugged at Ricks arm.
“Rick, I really need to use the restroom. Will you wait here for a minute?”
Rick looked over to the side of the building at the small line of women waiting to do their business. “You know that is why men rule the world don’t you? We can hold it longer and are built more efficiency than women in dealing these types of delays.” He joked.
“Oh, really? And you want to debate that?”
“No.”
“Besides, I need to clean up and it is your fault anyway.”
“Moi?” Rick fake acted as innocently as he could but Maria was already ignoring him and jogged off to stand in line.
But this was a good distraction for him. He wandered around for a few minutes acting like an ogling tourist as he scoped out the station. Satisfied with what he found he sat down on a bench near the restrooms and waited. It was longer still before Maria returned. He figured the station was an excellent place to see if they were being trailed. He took the bag that had been searched by customs, there wasn’t anything of real value and it anyway, and subtly slid it behind the bench, hiding it out of sight. With the bait set, he commenced to pretend a cat-nap. The five more minutes he waited seemed more like fifteen.
“Hey, you ready?” Maria prodded him with her foot.
“Très bien, Mesdame.” Rick smiled.
He grabbed his one bag he knew was clean and then headed for the exit with Maria’s arm linked in his. But just before they took the escalators down, Rick surreptitiously stirred Maria to the left and guided her over to the heart of the station. There up a staircase and facing the rails was a fancy restaurant called “Le Train Bleu”. The windows from the restaurant had a commanding overview of the train platform. The restaurant, like the train station, was also built in 19th century flamboyance and grandeur.
The place was busy but with an expensive tip, Rick and Maria were seated next to a window looking over the platform.
“Rick, I recognize this place.” Maria said in a hushed excitement that one usually reserves for religious fervor.
“Really, where?”
“This is the same restaurant in the movie “La Femme Nikita” where she shot the Asian tourist and then ran to the back into the men’s room to get out the little window. I’ve seen that movie a dozen times and I am sure this is the same place.”
“Huh. I never saw it but I guess it could be.”
“Esto es tan maravilloso.”
“I am glad you are having a good time.”
Rick enjoyed Maria’s exuberance as she turned into a Spanish chatterbox of joy, talking how exciting it was to be in the same place that she had only experience vicariously through the television and movies from back home. There were a hundred and one things she wanted to see and do. The dinner was pricy but the atmosphere and the food were well worth the expense. But it wasn’t all fun and games. Rick continued to run surveillance out onto the train platform, watching the bag he had left hidden under the bench. Maria was too much in her excitement of the place to realize what Rick was doing. It was something she would have to learn if she was going to be successful in the business but for now, he let her have her fun. He was glad she was having the chance to loosen up and enjoy herself.
Besides, maybe things were OK and he was just being paranoid.
19 comments:
Rick normally was not this paranoid, that was Baretts job. But this series of cloak and dagger across the old world, seemed like the old black and white noir films that Utah and Barett would watch. Minus all the mustached men in trench coats, the plot was the same.
Looking out the window for the last hour Rick wondered if his bait did any good. But then he picked up a patern that had eluded him before. Two figures kept repeating themselves, one male one female, every fifteen minutes. At last one of them, the female, tall and dark, thin on the side of not being attractive, with a large nose, sits down and slips something into the bag. All the time the man watches, then the two of them leave. From Ricks vantage point it looked like a small thank you note, pushed into the front pocket.
After Rick pays up and makes his way down to the floor they have gone. In his mind he knows that they are being trailed, but this move seems odd, like he is being left a message. Who or what organization would want to talk to them ?
After a few minutes of deliberation Rick decides to go for it and check out what was left for him.
The note is in a plain white evelope with a simple typed message:
" Meet us in the Pere Lachaise cemetary at 2 a.m., by the famous american grave. We have infomation for you .....DGSE "
Maria looks at you oddly.
" Who do you know in Paris ?"
She whispers in your ear.
" Because I don't know anyone, this is hours away, lets go shopping and worry about this later. Or......I could go get something seductive on my own and meet you at this club," she points to the flyer she picked up for a club named ' The Masion de loon '
" I will meet you there, see if you can recognize me.....you will need to pick me up...or I might let one of these French boys take me home."
She smiles a wicked grin and trots off before you can really answer.
What does Rick do ?
No good would come of this and Rick knew it. How the French External security (DGSE) had gotten involved was very bothersome. The small operation he had planned had somehow gown of its own accord into something altogether different.
Rick watched Maria skip off. She was her own girl and she had needs. He knew she was aching to go out and get rid of that smoldering money she had in her pocket and have a good time.
Rick watched as Maria slipped away into the early evening crowd of travelers coming off a train that had just arrived at the station. It was noisy with all these people. Some obviously knew the place well and raced to get out while the more tourists looking of the crowd ogled at unfamiliar surroundings. This was Rick’s problem too and he didn’t like it. He was a technically a tourist and he wasn’t sure of the setting here in Paris and didn’t like to be caught with his pants down. He wanted to know what he was walking into.
Shredding the note into snowflake size pieces of paper, he walked down the stairs parallel to the escalators with the flow of the crowd. Half of the note, now in little pieces, he threw away in a rubbish-bind at the bottom of the stairwell, the other half he shoved into his pocket for later.
The floor of the train station was bustling with people. It was 8:20 and it would be dark in a little more than an hour. Looking around he found a large area map displayed in an information panel in the middle of the room. It looked like he would have to play tourist some more.
“OK, let’s find this Père Lachaise Cemetery.” He said to himself as he walked over to the map.
The streets of Paris were a mess of inter woven and crossings streets like the end results of ten drunken spiders trying to weave a jersey. Yet there was some assembles of order with the roundabouts being stakes at the center of different feeding streets. These circles dominated the map. Rick knew Paris was going to be a nightmare to navigate. He was guessing that the cemetery he was looking for would be somewhere on the outskirts of the city. He scanned the map but couldn’t find it there. Interestingly, he noticed that there were eight hospitals within walking distance of Gare De Lyon station, including a huge one called “La Pitie-Salpetriere” just south of the station and across the Seine River. A short distance to the east was the Wood of Vincennes or ‘Bois de Vincennes”. This was a park 3 times the size of central park in New York, not that he had ever been to New York to really know. North of Bois de Vincennes was the most densely populated section of Paris also called “Vincennes.” Rick took mental note of the area, thinking that if he needed to lose somebody that would be the place. Further to the west of Gore de Lyon station were all the really famous places like the Eiffel tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre, and Chateau De Versailles.
“Merde, where is it?” He said a little too loud.
“Est-ce que je peux vous aider?” A female voice asked.
Rick turned to see a short woman with nicely-set brown hair in her mid twenties had stopped and was looking up at him. She was smoking a thin cigarette and was obviously checking him out.
“Excusez-moi?”
“Vous semblez perdu et j'ai pensé que je verrais si je pourrais aider.” She said and smiled with a slight sheepishness in her voice. Her pink lip gloss glistened under the florescent lights. “Vous ne parlez pas français vous faites bien?”
Whatever she had just said went over his head. She was no Maria but she wasn’t bad looking. His mind raced to come up with an answer but he was drawing a blank.
“Anglais?” She asked beating him to the gun before he could say anything.
“Pas, je parle espagnol.” He told her in his terrible French. (No, I speak Spanish)
“Oh, I wouldn’t have guessed. I thought you just spoke English.” She replied in perfect Spanish.
“Oh, usted habla español.” He replied. “Can you help me?”
“Sure. What are you looking for?” She continued in impeccable Spanish.
“I am looking for a place called ‘Père Lachaise’ Cemetery. Have you heard of it?”
“But of course. It is right here.” She pointed to spot on the map that appeared to be only 10 minutes away by car. “That was easy. Whose grave are you looking for?”
“Do you know it well?”
“Naturally. I don’t live to far from the cemetery. I have been in there a hundred times.”
“Well, there was this famous American from the old world . . .”
“Oh, you mean Jim Morrison of The Doors?” Again, she answered before he had a chance to finish his sentence.
“Yes. Do you know where it is?”
“Señor, I am a musician.” She said in a tone that was both mocking and confident. She looked at her watch and then looked over Rick from head to toe. “I like you. I will take you there if you like, but we would need to hurry. It will be night soon.”
“Does it close at night?”
“Ha, ha, ha.” She laughed merrily. “The court of the Lizard King does not look kindly on outsiders and Oniea the Shaman is not someone to cross.”
“Never heard on them, but sure, if you are willing to take me now I would be happy to go with you. What is your name my lovely French ‘mademoiselle’?”
“Carla, Carla Bruni and I’m not French. I’m Italian. And you?”
“Ricardo.”
She linked arms with him with a good deal of spunk, twisted in her high heels and led him down to her car. It was a wine red BMW with yellow racing stripes. She drove like Dave.
In a matter of minutes, in the few dying minutes left of daylight the two were standing in front of a small granite grave. The bronzed inscription was weathered and gray. Inscribed were the Greek words, ΚΑΤΑ ΤΟΝ ΔΑΙΜΟΝΑ ΕΑΥΤΟΥ, (according to his own daimōn).
“There you are Ricardo. Amazing isn’t it? But we must go soon. The grave is not a good place to be in at night. There are plenty of clubs I could take you to.”
"What is the danger of a grave yard? Is there anyone who is in such a hurry?" He joked with Carla.
" Your kind of cute, and slightly naive..." Carla says with a grin. Dropping the used cigarette in to the grass and smashing it under her High heeled half boots.
" Its not the dead we need to worry about, this is on the edge of two rival gangs territory. Its a shame really, two years ago they would have great parties and bring Ouiji boards. You know try to talk to him.....But that all ended with the refuge gangs fighting with the local drug lords and gangs."
She shakes her head in a sort of sad but reluctant movement.
" Best get back to my car, and head over to your Hotel, where are you staying Ricardo ?'
Rick looks at her and puts on the charm, shrugging his shoulders and nodding to his backpack.
" Youth hostile I imagine, any place to crash, you know." He casually replies.
She looks you over very carefully, up and down then stares at your eyes, For a very long moment. You can see that she has slit pupils like you, but is almost full human looks, at least from what you can see, there are no marks or signs of any animal.
" I know you are a good man, your Aura tells me so. But there is something else that I can see, before I let you crash with me I'll need to know what that is." She says while lighting another long thin cigarette, they have an odd odor, like that of cloves and peaches, nothing that you have smelled before.
As you get back to the car there are several Young men in black clothes with hoods pulled over their heads, standing around. Carla starts acting really nervous, and fumbling for her keys. You can see there is at least 12 of them in the road and at least 13 to 15 in the bushes and trees. they start moving quickly towards you.
What does Rick do ?
Time of playing tourist was over. He knew he could really take on all 30 without resorting to outright killing the youth. And that was a little more than what he initially wanted to do. Quickly handing Carla his bag, he picked the closest target to him and delivered a Tai kwon do narabam kick or a tornado kick. He did this simply because it was a display of controlled chaos. The kick utilized a quick spin to confuse, followed by a blurring continual spin that delivered a hammering blow to the side of the head. The young man flipped halfway around and crumpled to the coble stone street. Another hooded youth close by rushed upon Rick’s flank as Rick began his attack but he too was met with reverse kick to the chest. It was like watching a car slam into a cement pillar; all forward motion stopped in instant as the sickening sound of ribs snapping punctuated the hostile night air.
Rick continued to attach with extreme ferocity. If he could knock down five to ten individuals in the first few seconds, he was sure they would scatter. Gangs are notoriously cowards as they always hide behind numbers and all out surprise attacks. Yet they had a weakness. Just as a single 300 pound lion can spook a herd of 1000 plus pound buffalos with a frontal assault, Rick too planned using the same tactic of scaring these groupies who could easily take one man out if they were trained and worked together as a team. If in fact they did turn out to be a bigger threat he knew he had both his guns, the 9mm in the front of his pants and the H&K MP5K with plenty of ammo back in his bag.
Leaping head first into the foray of gang members, Rick attacked like a berserker for two rounds using wild moves and viperous hits. After the two rounds he would re-evaluate the situation and do a spot check on Carla. If anyone was moving on her, he would simple pull out his semi-auto and put a bullet in the coward’s head for going after a soft target.
The bodies lay crumpled around him on the ground, like some Greek frieze. The various moans and profanities escaping from their lips. Rick stood in the middle of it all, larger than life. Sweat hadn't even escaped his skin, his breathing was even and calm, the cool night wind ruffled his blondish hair. Standing there in the waning light he gave the image of some past hero returning to his lands from a long crusade to free his people....at least later in the songs Carla would write that is how it was.
Right now Rick was scanning the still standing as they gathered, mouths open, eyes bugged out. Not wanting to move forward, unable to move backwards.
By this time Carla had gotten to her car and was attempting to start it. Rick was making his way to the car also when this ear piercing, heart stopping, animalistic scream comes from out of the trees. Running towards him is the ugliest man he has ever seen, and that goes a long way in Ricks line of work. Almost seven feet tall and the size of an American football lineman, his skin black as the winter sky, his yellow eyes all blood shot and bugged out. A water buffalo mix with partial human features, and scars that ran all over the head and upper torso. He was ugly before the scars, but the missing ear and jagged scar, wide and puffy runnig from his neck across his head and over his brow, gives him the apperance of a Frankensteins monster. In his right hand he was carrying a large knife, well more like a small machete.
Rick pulled out the 9mm and placed three rounds in the head and two in the chest, the suppresed sounds of the gun barely noticable. The flash from the barrel was even dimmed by the suppresor, but the effects on the monster running at him were graphic. blood shot from his head, as skin and bone were torn lose, his head whipped back at a unnatural angle, his chest shook at the impact of high velocity fragmented bullets. But his body kept moving towards Rick, barley slowing at all.
Then his head snapped back up, a crooked grin on his face. only a mere fifty feet away now Rick empties the remaining ten bullets into the chest, hot brass arching into the graves, metal and flesh twisting into each other. Ricks grouping is tight, his battle stance stoic, the gun a lethal weapon in his hand, maybe some rounds missed maybe some didn't, but the effects in the end were the same. A mere ten feet from him lay the biggest, ugliest, smelliest dead bad guy Rick had killed in at least six months. Hearing the roar of a German 8 cylinder motor roar to life, Rick jumps and slides across the hood of the car, all Dukes of Hazard like and swings into the open window, just as the clutch drops and the BMW rockets down the road. The smell of burnt rubber and gun powder still hung in the air as Carla pulls the BMW into a parking garage several miles away, her knuckles white from the death grip she has on the steering wheel. The panting of her breath and locked stare straight ahead tell you she may be in a state of shock. She manages to pull the car into a parking place, stalling out the engine.
" What the Hell was that...."
She blurts out, almost screaming.
" And who the Hell are you Really..?"
what does Rick do ?
“Get out.”
“No, you answer my questions.” She was still in a state of panic. “What was that?”
“Trouble,” Rick said in a flat non-emotional tone that was the absolute opposite of hers. “Now get out.”
Not waiting to see if she would comply, Rick grabbed his bag and rolled out of the car door into the darkness of a short tunnel where Carla had parked her car. There were three parking spots and Carla had taken the third one. The other two were currently empty. He guessed she lived here. The parking spot was in a short tunnel which was not so much a tunnel as it was more just a short section of the road going under a building at the end of a narrow one-way lane. Truth be told, it was a good place to park a car because every other car he had seen so far in Paris was lined up along all the streets in a long string of parallel parked cars, all exposed to the elements. This place at least had a roof over head. If Carla lived here, Rick was guessing she had some money, even though the place looked a bit run down on the outside.
There was a narrow sidewalk protected from traffic by black iron rail guards on either side of the road and the walls of the surrounding building were decorated with gray and white tiles, a number of which were missing leaving unnatural breaks in the original pattern. All the windows on the ground level were behind white painted iron bars. A single yellow light illuminated a steal and glass door in front of him that to opened into what appeared to be a building that was a mix between residential and businesses.
The driver’s side door of the BMW opened and Carla got out. She fidgeted with her lighter as she attempted to light up another of her strange smelling cigarettes. She was still very visible shaken up but she seemed to gain control as she inhaled deeply a few times on the blue smoke. Rick knew he didn’t have time for all her questions he suspected were running through her head. But at the same time he wanted to use her help if he could get it. He would have to give her a little information if he was going to get her to cooperate.
He watched her closely as she took one last big breath of smoke and steadied herself on the other side of the car.
“Who are you?” She asked as she blew out a steady flow of bluish smoke from the right side of her mouth.
He didn’t answer but kept eye contact as he deliberately pulled out his shoulder harness with the MP5K-PDW and all its goodies and strapped in on. Next he dropped out the empty magazine to his 9mm and retrieved a fully loaded one from his bag, pulled the top slide of the gun back and chambered a new round.
“Are you sure you want to ask that question?” He finally countered.
She stared back. The thin cigarette, forgotten, hung on the side of her glossy lips like it was glued there.
“I take it back. You’re not naïve at all are you? You’re just not from here.”
He gave her a wink as he started to walk around the car. “I may not be too bright in some things but I do know how to handle a situation when people are acting dangerously.”
“Well, now that you have seen the grave,” She attempted to laugh. It was only half felt and she took one step back as Rick came around to her side of the car. There was a plea in her voice for him to stop. “I guess you think you have to go back there now don’t you?”
“I have to meet someone there tonight.”
“But that thing!?”
“I don’t think miss ugly is going to cause me any more problems and the others were just punks.”
“That thing was a woman? How could you tell?”
“Didn’t have the right parts to be a male if you catch my meaning. She wasn’t wearing any pants.”
He stepped closer to her and held out his hand.
She took another step back and looked hard at him.
“I think I need your help tonight.”
“Are you nuts?”
“I am worried about a friend of mine and I want you to find her for me.”
The ‘her’ stopped Carla’s retreat.
A car engine sounded at the end of the street followed shortly by headlights turning the corner and heading towards the two. Rick smoothly grabbed Carla by the hand and spun her in close, her cigarette falling to the ground as he dipped her back and gave her a long solid kiss. She fought with surprise for just a second and then joined in knowing it was a ruse but enjoyed it nonetheless as she reached up and curled her hand through the back of his hair. She was quick enough to figure out that what he was doing was to covering up the weapon holster he had just put on.
The passenger from the car whistled and cat-called as the car passed under the tunnel and then turned the corner and was gone. Standing Carla back up, Rick turned to look to make sure they weren’t being watch by anyone else. Carla took a step back from Rick, her mind race every which way. Rick turned back and began to say something but she cut him off again.
“Alright, I will help you.”
“Thank y . . .” But she cut him off again before he could finish.
“That something else that I can see in you is a bit scary but I still see that you are good. Besides, I want to see what the competition is like. What do you need me to do?”
Rick smiled as she was clearly back to her excitable self again.
“There is a club called the “Masion de loon”. Have you heard of it?”
She threw him an ‘of course, I am not an idiot’ look.
“My friend will be there.” He continued before she could say anything. “I don’t think she will be there yet but she is expecting me. You may need to drag her way from the French boys though. She is quit the looker.”
“What will she be wearing?”
“I don’t know.”
“No?” She looked at him as if she expected more from him but then she rattled off a serious of questions faster than a machine gun could fire. “What is her name? How tall is she? What color is her hair? How long is it? Any distinguishing features? Is she average, pretty, beautiful, or drop-dead-gorgeous? How am I going to recognize her?”
“Look, I have a picture of her on my camera I’ll show you.” Rick was finally able to squeeze in. “She is hard to miss so you shouldn’t have much of a problem. Give her this,” and he pulled out a 9mm round from his gun. “Her name is Maria, Maria Andreina Belloso. Make contact with her around 1 in the morning and tell her there was a change of plans. You need to get her out and then meet me someone safe.”
“What are you going to do?”
“That’s my problem so don’t worry about it.”
“Listen to me Ricardo. I have heard about things up at the Cemetery before but I never believed it until tonight. But you need to know that they say there are two of them. They call them Hindu Gods of Death and that they serve in the court of the Lizard king.
“Look, I think you have seen that I can take care of myself. And by the way, the name is Rick, not Ricardo.”
“Same thing is you ask me. And I guess you are not from Spain too are you?”
“No, but that can wait.”
“Fine, but it is a date then.” She said with some finality that Rick knew was her way of hedging an agreement even though Carla knew there was another woman. “Where are we going to meet you and when?”
“Two thirty sounds like a good time but I don’t know about the where?”
Before he could finish, she had a solution and cut him off. “I know. At the north-west end of the cemetery is the ‘Avenue de la Republique.’ Following it west for one block and you will come to a large school. The address is 101 and you can’t miss it. The outer walls are gray granite with huge blue doors in the middle. There you will also see a marble bust of Voltar on the left of the main gate. There is some other guy on the other side but I can’t remember who it is. Anyway, we will meet you there. You think you can make it?”
“Man, you talk fast.”
“I can’t help it, I’m Italian. We have passion.”
“So I have seen.”
Rick took out his camera from his bag and pulled up a picture of Maria for Carla. She gave a low whistle and nudged him in the ribs. But instead of being down cast or discourage, she just smiled with a look of ‘bring it on’ reflecting in her eyes.
Leaving his bag in the trunk of the BMW, Rick left Carla and moved off to find his way back to the cemetery. The road just past the tunnel angled left in front of a city park. Two cement pillars stood as gate post to the park. The park was surrounded by more black iron railing that was a good 10 feet tall fence. Behind the fence a thick grove of trees blocked his view into the park. Rick moved between the pillars and entered the park and headed north to find his way back to the cemetery. It was only about 2 miles away. His thoughts were of the minotaurs and cretan bulls from Greece legends not to mention the possible fallout he could be facing when Maria met Carla. Life sure was interesting for him.
And by the way, where was Barett?
Rick covered up the guns as best he could and headed into the dark park, the really dark, public park.
Where was Barett, where was Barett ? The question nagged at him almost distractingly, but the fading lights of the city and the sounds of the night moving in around him brought back his focus.
The question of Barett and spanky would need to wait.
He knew something about the attack in the cemetary, that it was cult behavior, blood cult behavior "elus coens." There was little to doubt, based upon what Barett had mentioned before when they spoke of Paris. They must be up to some ritual that now he and Carla had interrupted. If that was true they would hunt Rick and Carla down to atone for the mistake. Blood cults were notorious amoung the refugees, and had some dark parent funding that the host countries often did not see. At least that is some of the Paranoid retoric that Barett had spewed out before.
The Dark of the Park allowed Rick to make some good time, he was almost 3/4's of the way across when he realized he was being followed. Four shadow figures were keeping a close tail on him, quiet as he was they hung back a mere 300 meters from him, two straight back and one on each side. Rick was just crossing into the heavy tree line when he noticed them crossing an open grass area. They were dressed in black, but so was half of Paris, but these figures didn't just walk, they stalked, and Rick was thier prey.
What could he do, only time would tell.
Rick looked at his watch. It was 10:28. He thought about the safety of Miss Carla Bruni but came to two conclusions. The girl was sharp and a thinker and if she were in danger she would more than likely be three steps ahead of her adversary. That or she was compromised and there was nothing he could do about it now. Rick knew he was a bastard not caring about it at the moment but there was nothing he could do so I put her out of his mind. He had his own issues to deal with now.
He was being stalked! Didn’t they ever learn? It was incredulous. He looked at his watch again. He figured it would take him another half hour to get to Père Lachaise Cemetery by foot. He wanted an hour or so to stake the place out. The meeting wasn’t until 2. He had time.
Rick, ever the big theatrical planner, grinned. He was going to take these guys out one at a time real quiet like. It would be a psychological game to see who was really scared of the dark. He had brought his duck-tape. If he could avoid it, he would take these turkeys alive. If not, he had a silencer. He wanted to do some interrogation and see what he could learn.
Dropping low to the ground, Rick rolled into the blackest shadows he could find around him and then checking to see if he was hidden from view he leaped up onto a tree branch. He would hide until they had all passed. Then he would drop down and take out the last guy.
The game was now on.
The problem with cultist people is that they are so focused on being a cult they lack any imagination. I mean who could imagine that Rick was really a vicious, trained killer, much more deadly than themselves. That he was not afraid of them, just did not register in thier minds. They thought they were bad, scary people, everyone was afraid of. Then again he just beat up a dozen of their followers and killed "the executioner". He knew they liked soft targets, but were heavy into revenge, maybe they understood how dangerous Rick was, maybe not.
The thought in the back of Ricks mind was, would Carla lead them to Maria and what was their real objective in hunting him down now ?
As they walked by Rick could smell them, a rotting meat mixed with human BO, acidic smell. It almost made him gag, the smell was so overpowering, he could have tracked these guys by smell alone.
Waiting for last guy to past Rick swings down and cracks him in the base of the neck with the butt of the MP-5 twice, knocking him to the ground. Still awake, Rick cracks him across the ear knocking him out. The guy is filthy, black smelly goo sticks to his clothes and gets all over Rick, it smells worse up close.
Ducktaping his hands and feet securely he heads after the next guy. The first was some sort of goat mix humanoid, the teeth rotting out, clothes absolutly filthy. In his hand was a homemade knife of stone, odd leather and bone, the only clean thing on him.
Rick has this sinking feeling in his gut these guys maybe cannibals of some sort. Not the TV kind, but the "we live in the sewers and eat human flesh kind". He is also thinking a hot long shower right now to get clean would feel good.
Perhaps shooting the rest would be better, right now he is only 20 feet behind the next guy, who is desperately searching for where Rick went.
what does Rick do ?
Rick waited. He thought about ending these low lives’s existence but then how would they ever learn that you shouldn’t mess around fire. And in Rick’s mind, the Coontail brothers were fire.
He waited until the man closest to him had moved 20 feet forward. This task was better performed by Barett with his skill as a sniper but Barett wasn’t around to back him up. So, sliding ever so quietly on his belly to lay next bush that should hide him from prying eyes, Rick took careful aim and pulled the trigger.
His aim is for the back of the left knee. The shot, if it hits correctly should be extraordinarily painful and do enough damage that the man would never walk again with the aid of a cane. Rick expects the man to fall and scream out in pain which in turn should attract the attention of the other two. When the furthest individual comes in view, Rick will promptly put a bullet in his head and then lay and wait hidden to observe the reaction. Trusting that the silencer will mask his location, Rick is thinking he can sow some chaos without being discovered.
Rick has a perfect textbook set up, create confusion, then take advantage. Forty feet doesn't seem very far, if it was daylight, if it was on flat terrain, if the supressor on the end of the gun did'nt require for some compensation. The first shot went a little wild, but the second shot made it home. The man in black garb crumples to the ground, one animalistic scream escapes his lips, then he goes quiet. The dark figure spins and pounds on the ground trying to keep silent, but the groans and curses are well within earshot. From Ricks left a fast moving target approaches, moving silently for its speed and size another dark figure emerges into the small opening in the trees. It stares at the other, then dives toward it, tearing at the flesh of the shoulder of the other in some sort of blood lust. Rick places two shots in its head, before he senses what is going on. The first dark figure starts to drag himself off into the thick bushes when you hear movement off to the right as the second target comes into view, scanning the area it drops down on the dead second cannibal, ripping into the flesh. It reminds Rick of the zombie movies they would watch as kids in the mess hall with the enlisted men at the base on friday nights. This was much more bizzare, almost sad really.
Placing two more shots to the head the third figure drops. From the bushes he can hear what sounds like crying, and eating sounds, then crying. Peaking out from the bushes he can see the wounded first guy, trying to eat his own leg, all the time trying to stop himself and crying like a infant.
What does Rick do ?
It was the most pitiful sight Rick had ever had the unpleasant fortune to witness. The image, he knew, had branded itself deep into this brain; one that would not easily be forgotten. Rick moved from his hiding place. He moved as a man defeated. No hiding, no passion, no caring; just moving to stand over the deplorable sight. Sorrow had touched his heart. He knew what he needed to do and he did it quickly. There was no possibility of salvation or hope for this poor creature before him weeping like a little child yet totally imprisoned to this freakish manner. The ending crack of the bullet sounded hollow to Rick.
How could this great city come to house this?
Yet, he knew how. They pretended it didn’t exist. The people went about their days and nights, hidden behind their walls and fake society with their heads buried in the ground like dumb ostriches. Naive hypocrites were what they were. They live in opulence while below them foreigners were wasting away. The underground catacombs and quarries of Paris went on for miles and miles in a serpentine labyrinth. This must be were these lost souls lived. Just as the abomination that came from the coupling of the white bull and the wife of Minos, King of Crete, was hidden away in the labyrinth, so to must be the people of Paris hiding their sins, both ashamed to confront the monster of their own making. One was called the Minotaur, the other xenophobic intolerance.
It was time to leave. The pansy French DGSE could keep their secrets for all he cared. He wasn’t going to walk into the middle of some sick satanic orgy without a hell-of-a-lot more back up and firepower. Corruption and inner decay had infested the city and to what extent, Rick had no way of knowing nor did he care about it now. He was getting out of Paris.
As he walked by the other figure he had caught and so carefully set up as bait, he now just lowered the barrow of his gun and put the creature out of his misery. His job now was to get to Maria and get out.
“And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.” – Eger Allen Poe
Rick walked out of the Park, a sad wave of pain swelled inside of him and then was surpressed. Three things nagged at him, three general inconsistancies that he didn't like. The first being that they were one step ahead of him, which is hard to do more than once without being planned. The second was that all of these guys had the same large medical scars, clean and precise behind thier ears and across the forehead. Thirdly they seemed to all be from the same genetic pool, to many physical similarities to ignore. At first when he captured the the last stalker he thought he was goat, but there was something else, the dark hair and teeth, the nose....perhaps they were tazmanian devils mixed in with the goat, a devilish blend that would eat anything. Medically altered to be some sort of cannibalistic scavanger that would desecrate anything, kill anything, do what ever it was told. No the thought was way to Barett, way to dark. But Paris was a dark city, home to lots of stranger things that were real.
Rick made his way back to the mixed use building that Carla had stopped at, her car was gone, which was both bad and good. He really could have used a shower and a ride. Standing in the lobby he stared at a Cafe just on the other side. Seeing people using laptops and drinking dark coffee an idea sprung to his mind. Slipping in the delivery door that was wedged open, and to the bathroom he cleaned himself up as good as he could and slipped into the corner booth. Waiting till a person left their table he slid over and started using the internet to search for some answers...Like the fastest way to the " maison de loon " and any thing else that was nagging at him.
What is Ricks next move, its 11:15 now, plenty of time for more trouble ?
Mean while, a few hours earlier . . .
Maria walked quickly down the second flight of stairs out of the Gare De Lyon station. It was 8:30 and the twilight would be setting soon.
Maria had plans and now was a perfect time to put some into action. She would need a sexy black dress, some perfume and makeup, and a bit of luck.
She hurried down to the street to find a number of cabs drivers standing around, swapping stories and telling bad jokes. A partial-looks pig with bleached white hair noticed her first and quickly put out his cigarette and excused himself from the group. The others turned to see what his hurry was and each wore the expression of disappointment that they hadn’t seen Maria first. The pig took her arm graciously and escorted her over to a black luxury sedan and in a very refined and courteous manner, opened the door for her with a little bow and a tip of his hat.
“Merci, Monsieur.”
“Vous êtes bienvenu ma jeune beauté” He replied (You are welcome my young beauty) as he closed the door and ran excitedly around to the other side of the car while at the same time looking back at his compagnons, flicking his eyebrows up and down in a silent message that clearly said, “Hubba-hubba.”
“Porter à une boutique de robe,” Maria asked him as he got in the car. (Please take me to a dress boutique.) And then she added, “Un magasin gentil” (a nice one).
“Certainement, je sais juste de l'endroit.” The cab driver replied and accelerated the car away from the station.
Maria looked back to see if Rick had followed her out. He hadn’t and she was relieved. She turned back and absentmindedly traced her finger along the seam of the leather seat as she thought. The taxi driver made a few cheerful attempts at conversation. Maria mostly smiled sweetly back at him but didn’t engage into anything past a few pleasantries.
She liked Rick. And that was the problem. She didn’t know exactly how to play this thing out. She had her own goals that she needed to follow. Rick and his brothers had unknowingly given her the key she needed and she planned to take full advantage of it in putting her plans into action.
As a young girl she had read a book that changed her perspective on life and ultimately her destiny. The preface of the book had started with the phrase: “Women have always had a profound effect on history throughout the ages.” Maria remembered reading this statement that seemed so implausible and being shocked by it. It was such a radical idea that the thought burned deep into her little mind. Women could have an effect on their world?
While she had been born into a wealthy family of San Pablo and had known privilege at a young age it hadn’t lasted long. Her father had been disgraced and ignominiously killed, leaving her and her mother and brother to fall into the ghettos of squander and destitution. Yet even before this fall women were nothing in her society. San Pablo and the whole of Bolivia as a matter of fact, were ran and ruled by men. Females, and in particular the mutant females, were oppression and treated as a sub-sub-species. Yet the thought of a woman being able to be influential in her world, piqued Maria’s imagination and a fire of desire was lit in her to become someone who had that kind of power.
From the book, she had learned about two women from history and she completely idolized them. The first was Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, marquise de Pompadour or simply Madame de Pompadour. The other was a Kisaeng from Korea by the name of Hwang Jini. Both were known and noted for their exceptional beauty, charming quick wit, and extraordinary intellect and talent. And what was more, both were self made and had come out from poverty and inferior social status. Maria related to them in a way only a young naïve and innocent girl could. She connected with these women and she knew she would grow up and influence the world just as these two had. Others and laughed and mocked her when she told them about her ambitions but Maria ignored them. She knew she was going to make something out of her life one way or the other.
She was intelligent, exceptionally beautiful, charming, and witty too. What man out there was someone she couldn’t swoon? But she was stuck in Bolivia. She was good at getting information and working at negotiations but things had gone wrong and were only getting worse. So when the Coontail brothers had shown up, she jumped on the opportunity. She had instantly recognized that they were not who they said they were. She saw it as fate that the boys had showed up so unexpectedly when they did in that little mountain village she was hiding in. It had to be fate. Somehow, someone or something had smiled down on her in one of her darkest and lowest hours. There was no other way to rationalize it. Fate had set events into motion that plucked her out of the certain doom.
And now she was in France! The home of Madame de Pompadour even! Chance? How could it be?
Maria’s ambitions were big and she had her work cut out for her. She knew she lacked some refinement, but she would learn.
Tonight was her first real opportunity at accomplishing her dream. Her target tonight was the wealthy and influential government males of France. She knew she could attract them. They were no different from any other man. All men were the same; the old ones, the young ones, the rich ones, and poor ones, the powerfully ones, and the timid ones, even Rick and his brothers.
Bell’s fire, Rick was easy. A little smile here, a flash of her leg there, and he was hers. She was sure she could have done it easy to any one of them. Maybe not Dave, he was a little creepy, but the others were just the same. All you had to do was show them just a peek down at your breasts and they melted and became play dough in a woman’s hands. Men were so predictable!
But this brought her back to her problem. She liked Rick. He was tall and good looking and “bless his heart”, he tried hard. Truthfully, she liked them all; even Dave a little. They were exciting and fun to be around. How this would all play out, she had no idea.
“Damn it, you like him,” She said to herself in Spain. “You idiot!”
“Pardon?” the cab driver asked.
“Je suis désolé, il n'étais rien.” She replied giving him a delightful smile. (Oh excuse me, nothing)
At the end of the ride, Maria used her charm so well that the taxi driver insisted that Maria not pay, but he gave her his card and told her to call on him if she ever needed assistance. He had dropped her off at the wonderful place. It was an average size shop but it looked expensive. As she walked in, her eye caught a mannequin in the front that showcased a stunning black dress with a matching pearl choker and bracelet. It was perfect! Even Rick would quake in his boots when he saw her wearing this.
The thought made her smile. He was going to have to work hard to get her back tonight. The powerful French man she had in mind wouldn't like it one bit.
Back in a darkly lit corner of a little internet café, Rick was busy at work. He located the "maison de loon" easy enough. He would take a taxi to get there. Next he opened a command console on the computer and coded a ping command to his secret IP address of his location tracker he had placed in the box back in Sete. He wanted to see where it was at.
. . . Where is it ? . . .
Rick looked at his watch. There was a lot that was nagging him. First were the scars. There were a lot of hospitals in the area. He wondered if they had something to do with this. A hospital could easily hide what they didn’t want the public to see. Slap a biohazard sign up and people stay out. And given that they were in close proximity to the any and all of Paris’ catacombs couldn’t be good. Rick didn’t image it would be hard to open a tunnel or unlock a door in the basement of any of the hospitals and have free access to the subterranean world he suspected was full of nasty things.
Rick took a few more minutes looking up information or stories about the gang problems here in Paris with a hospital in the story to see if anything came up.
When he finishes he is planning on stealing or buying a man’s sports jacket (whichever scenario presented itself first) so he could conceal his guns without much work and then catching a taxi to the club.
Rick scans some of the local news headlines and backpages. There are some crime reports about strange abuductions and desecrated bodies, and tales of Cannibalism in the tabloid news. Most deal with the immigrant sectors, about un-named bodies and hand drawn pictures of figures, some look like the ones you have killed. There is some rumors about the instability of the massive influx of refuges from Africa and southeast Asia where the Empire is strong. Perhaps this has more to do with a Empire plan, sleeper agents and the like, then something local.
The ping on the "package" shows it on the border station on the Paris north coast.
He also has a message from Barett in his encoded website.
The message from Barett is short but helpful to Rick.
" in position to aquire Package, contact me, to review plans."
He then leaves a secret number to text his cell phone.
Borrowing a large mens coat, black, from the coat rack Rick walks back out the same way he came in and onto the busy streets. If it was possible, the streets seem more packed with cars then during the day. Hailing a taxi and making his way to the " Masion de loon" hoping to meet Maria. After a long drive of 45 minutes, and conversation about the weather with the driver, they arrive. Expecting a dive bar in the basement of some Hotel, like all the ones in Sacramento they had gone to for Dave's concerts. This was a nice place, actually it was a really nice place. In a really clean upscale neighbor of high end shops and mixed residential buildings. There is a long line out in front and the four large bouncers with headsets and matching suits, screams high class party zone. The line of people waiting to get in are all dressed like they are going to some awards party, complete with the paparazzi shooting photos and the like crowding around the entrance. The Building is a self standing, three story brick, with large windows and white lights flooding the outside. From what he can see from the backseat of the cab, the first level is a bar foyer area, the second floor is a large dance hall/ bar with what sounds like a live band, and the top floor looks like a VIP area with the windows all darkened. The place is huge well over 20,000 sqft. and at least 2,000 people or more could be inside.
It's then that Rick catches the look from the taxi driver. It says enough, Rick knows he smells, that he is way underdressed and that this is going to be really hard to drag Maria away from.
What does he do ?
Meanwhile............
Maria has the biggest smile on her face, as she leaves the high end shoe store, multiple colored boxes in hand. Having gotten a hotel room only a few blocks away she struts down the street, enjoying the looks of attraction she gets from the men on the street. Better than any other high for her, the attention and power from being a attractive women having men grovel to her was the best aphrodisiac that she knew of. Swinging into the hotel lobby and letting the bellboy take the boxes up to her room, she mentally assesses her inventory. She had the dress, the shoes, the jewlery, the handbag.....and definitely she had the body to back this outfit up.
later in her room, swigging back some highend bottled water she starts to dress.
Slipping into the lowback, high slit black dress and two inch low heel black pumps. She didn't want to be to tall and scare away her targets.
Checking herself out in the mirror, she made sure the package was complete. The image was truly titilating, both seductive and sensual at the same time.
Walking down the street to the club she could feel the excitement building, slowly warming her from the inside. The adenaline rush was almost overpowering and she used all her control to act calm and bored.
Walking up to the front door of the club the bouncers all gave her the once over, then showed her in...That was easier than she imagined, I guess french men are just like all the rest.
Standing at the bar she looked over the well dressed crowd...the competition was tough. This was the biggest collection of beautiful women she had ever seen in her entire life. For a brief moment doubt crept into her mind. Then from her side a mild french voice speaks to her.
" May I buy you a drink ? "
says a tall square shouldered man in a tuxedo. Not really what you would call handsome, but not ugly either, dark hair and heavy lines he shows all the grace of a dancer.
" Why yes " says Maria as she walks away with him.
Rick really has his work cut out for him.
The beat from the dance hall reverberated out into the night air. Happy and excited voices mingled with the music. This atmosphere was the opposite of the night Rick had experience so far and it felt wrong and fake to him. He was dirty. He smelled of death and rot. He looked like a demon that had crawled out from the bowels of the earth and put of a suit coat in a pitiable attempt to conceal who he was.
He thought about his situation for a minute. The fastest approach would be to rush the bouncers, climb the outside of the building, smash in through the second story windows, fight off more security, make a mess of the place, bust a few tables and crack some heads, find Maria and rescue her from some jealous French pansy who would want to fight, swing from the chandeliers, get in a gun fight and shoot up the expensive bottles on the bar wall, race down front steps with Maria in tow, get assaulted by the police retreat back into the club to create a diversion of a standoff while attempting to escape from the roof by swinging away, then steal a car and have a mad car chase through Paris, miss the night train to London, and end up stealing a plane or something to get back to England. It might work but he didn’t have any rope.
Maybe there was another way. He looked around and spotted what he needed; Gay men. Well, they looked like men anyway. They were in act of snottily critiquing the fashion of those entering into the club. Two were standing across the street standing in a very gay and “Come dah-ling, let'sh restsh now" attitude. Rick snuck across the street and came up in the shadows behind them. He guessed they were British because they were speaking in English with a have feminine British accent.
“Oh my gawd! Did you know that Jimmy and Pete are noncombi now?!” the older one with a beard said.
“Shut! Up!” The very short skinny Asian person said. Maybe this one wasn’t gay after all. Rick couldn’t tell though for sure, but Rick was guessing a girl because he/she had on what looked like a skirt.
“Seriously! And Alex! He is just a mird, he wanna mix. . . but what a snob.”
“Yes, but the quet’shion is still out there, will they still have that fabulous babiti again or not?”
“Excuses me,” Rick interrupted from behind them. He was bent over and looked to be a beggar.
Both turned and stared with open mouths, not believing the audacity of someone of such low status attempting to talk to them.
“Sorry to interrupt you two but I was wondering if I could impose on you and get your help?”
“Young man?!” The older man with the beard said with great withering contempt.
“Good lord, you skink to high heaven,” said the sort Asian as he/she held his/her nose. The voice gave no more clue as to gender.
Rick stood up to his full height and grabbed them both by the collar, dragging them back into the dark of a side street. The Asian let out a slight peep but both were so shocked by Rick’s sudden force that they almost enjoyed it.
“Listen,” he whispered forcefully, standing to his full height to tower over them. He dropped his voice to a quiet hush. “I am a secret agent and I need to get into that club across the street, but I can’t get in dressed like this without drawing too much attention.”
He pulled his long hair back out of his face and the action of doing so flashed his shoulder harness with the assault rifle. Rick held up his index finger to his lips let them know they needed to keep his secret. He was doing all he could to eek out charisma.
To the two men (well whatever the Asian was), Rick looked all the part of a living and breathing marble statue from ancient Rome and Greece. Viewing this transformation from a beggar to a hero had a mesmerizing effect on them. Their eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning and Santa had just left them the mother-load.
“Can you help me?”
“Can we help you?” The short he/she Asian said as he/she gaily clapped his/her hands together. “My fine man, each person has been given talents that they must discover and appreciate. Fashion is part of the visual arts and it is our talent!”
Then other jump in as if they had practiced this speech before. “We have been given fingers that embroider, minds that understands bodies in motion, hands that drapes cloth, the mathematical abilities to create patterns and eyes for color and composition. Are not these the talents that are deemed of worth to this task?”
“Oh, do tell. It is fun to play paper dolls and bla, bla, bla.” The Asian said. “As someone in the fashion world, we know ‘the would’, ‘the could’, ‘the might’, ‘the ought’, and ‘the should’ in clothing.” He/she did the stupid little air hand quote as he/she spoke and then did a triple snap of his/her fingers.
“Oh, this is so exciting,” The bearded one said in an overdramatic faint of his left hand. “When we get don’t, not even your mother will recognize the change.
“Welcome change from the usual drivel. Kudos to you, we will have you in there in no time!”
Rick started to worry that he had made the wrong choice and storming the club would be easier than dealing with these two, but they merrily linked arms with him, escorted him to a nearby hotel and ordered him to shower and shave. The bearded man stayed and made sure his hair “was’s jus’ts’ so,” while his Asian partner went out and returned so fast with three sets of clothing that Rick thought that he/she must have the gift of supersonic speed.
They fussed over him like a mother on her baby daughter’s baptism day. In no time Rick was dressed in a Black Verdi tuxedo coat, (“the Pegasus style he learned”), a Mandarin collar 5-button single breasted front with upper and lower satin besom pockets. (Whatever that meant?) Black pleated tuxedo pants, a white banded collar, vest, cummerbund and wine red tie. Rick looked good. And his new friends didn’t have any reservation talking up some gay trash that even shocked Rick’s ears. Their frumpiness was a bit much but they had done well.
Telling his new ‘friends’ to wait in the shadows, Rick moved out into the street and headed to the club. It was now time to see if this scheme would work.
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