by AJ Frazer
“Jesus!” he cursed, wondering what the hell was happening to his machine. Jacqueline would be pissed if she had to get him another computer because he’d fallen for the first trick in the hackers’ book. Then the computer stopped suddenly and reverted to the original screen as if nothing had happened. Except now there was a rectangular black box he had never seen before, in the top-right corner of his screen. He realized there was a cursor flashing in it. He used his trackpad to try to click on the email but it was frozen. Nothing responded on the screen. Then computer-code-style text began appearing in the black box.
VS: Hello Dominic, apologies for our farewell. Not what I had envisaged, but necessary. Are you well?
The cursor pulsed in the box beneath the new text with a prefix of DE. Dominic Elliston.
DE: I am well, thank you. Clearly you made a safe exit.
VS: Yes. Now based at another location.
DE: I’ve started your article.
VS: Good.
VS: I was wondering if you would like to take our interview to the next level?
DE: Meaning?
A moment passed as Dominic stared intently at the pulsing cursor.
VS: Accompany me on an operation.
Was he serious? A mission? Most likely illegal, dangerous, and possibly involving people being harmed—him being harmed.
DE: What is it?
VS: No details like this. But, be assured, no one will be hurt and it will do a great deal of good for the world.
DE: Asking a lot and giving very little.
Another pause and Dominic waited, considering the prospect.
VS: In or out?
Dominic sighed, throwing himself back in the chair and slouching down. He stared at the screen as the cursor flashed. He was surprised by how little time it took him to make up his mind.
DE: In.
VS: Pack an overnight bag immediately. You have ten minutes. Do as instructed and you will be brought to me. DO NOT TELL ANYONE what is happening. Bring your passport and leave your mobile at home.
With that, the screen flickered again and returned to the usual setup. Dominic was frozen in his chair, astounded by what he had just done. The last thing he felt like doing was taking another journey to meet Sagen. But what choice did he have? This was too good an opportunity to learn about Earth Ghost.
Pushing back the chair, he stood, still looking at the screen in shock, contemplating what to do. Checking his watch, he bolted upstairs. He frantically cobbled together a few clothes and his toothbrush into a leather duffel. Hearing the doorbell, he grabbed his old cotton field jacket that was his go-to when he was writing for a living, and strode from the room and down the stairs. He wrote a short note on a pad that sat on a narrow table in the hallway.
Jacs, I’m OK. See you soon, Dom.
He opened the door to a driver in a black suit who proffered his hand to take the bag. Dominic gave it to him and followed wordlessly down to a waiting Audi saloon. The car headed down Haverstock Hill Road onto Chalk Farm Road. Then through Camden Town, where the pavements bulged with people in the afternoon heat. The traffic was mercifully light. Dominic realized he didn’t even know what day it was. It must have been a Saturday or Sunday—no way would the roads be this clear during the week.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
The driver looked quizzically at Dominic in the rear-view mirror. “To St. Pancras station, sir. Is that not correct?”
“OK, no that’s fine, thank you.” Dominic went back to staring out of the window, wondering what he’d got himself into.
They made good progress and before long were outside St. Pancras, near the main entrance. The car pulled into the curb. Dominic didn’t wait for the driver to open the door for him.
The station was busy with people going in and coming out in equal measure. He stood beside his bag as the car drove off and left him wondering what to do next. That problem was solved by the smiling appearance of Zhen, who walked up to him as if they were old friends going on a journey together. To anyone looking that would be exactly how it appeared.
“Dominic! So pleased you could join us,” said Zhen genuinely.
“Glad I could make it.” He tried to appear calm and collected, though he was far from either.
“Come with me. Our train will depart soon.” She looked around casually and then they set off for the main entrance at a relaxed pace.
“Mind telling me where exactly we are going?”
“The platform,” said Zhen simply.
“I got that. Which one?”
“Eurostar. I’m taking you to Paris. From there, you’ll be escorted to another location and possibly another and perhaps another.”
More cloak-and-dagger games. “Well, at least I’ll have your company.”
Zhen smiled and her whole face lit up. He wondered if it was fake. If so, she was a damned good actress.
The train was boarding when they reached the platform.
“Economy? Should have let me book the tickets,” Dominic half-joked.
“Less chance of you being recognized in economy.” Zhen took her seat against the window.
“Fair point,” Dominic conceded as he lowered himself into his seat next to her. The train slowly pulled away from the station and gathered speed smoothly, almost imperceptibly. “Will you be joining me for the entire journey?” he asked quietly, conscious of people around him in the busy carriage.
Zhen twisted her head to look at Dominic. “No, I’ll get you to Paris and then I’ll be heading elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere? That’s particularly vague.”
Zhen didn’t answer. She just looked ahead.
Dominic lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “So, Victor shared with me why he started Earth Ghost and what continues to drive him. It’s quite phenomenal. Which makes me wonder what’s really behind you dedicating your life to Earth Ghost?”
She kept looking forward. “It’s a dull story.”
“I don’t think there’s anything dull about you.”
Zhen looked sideways at Dominic with a fractional curl at the corner of her mouth. She returned her gaze forward. Dominic thought that would be the end of it.
“Sins of the father,” said Zhen. “My father is a wealthy industrialist in China. He is a despicable man who has hurt thousands of people with his factories and pollution. He has profited greatly by ignoring basic human rights and desecrating our delicate ecological balance. He does so without remorse or guilt. I hated knowing what he had personally been responsible for, so I decided to go the other way.”
“The yin to his yang?”
“I simply seek to right the many wrongs he has committed.”
“How honorable of you.”
“It is less about honor, more about responsibility. My father had a great responsibility to the Earth, which he neglected. So I will do everything I can to rectify his neglect. Balance.”
“While living on the money he has created?”
Zhen looked at Dominic as though she might slap him. “I receive no allowance, no trust fund. I am independent. My father has disowned me, and the rest of my family hates me. There is no double standard here. What about you? Any double standards in your life?”
“Plenty. In fact, triple—often quadruple—standards. In the media game you sell a little of your soul every time you do a deal.”
“Is that why you look so old?” Zhen stifled a smile.
Dominic grunted. “I’m not doing too badly.”
“You rich people all think you look better and younger than you are,” she said with a smirk.
“I see, ‘you rich people.’ So now we grossly generalize, do we? Is this a prerequisite for Earth Ghost? Must display ability to shove people into pigeonholes—”
“Only those who deserve to be put in holes,” she shot back with a broad smile.
He liked this side of her. Playful, whip-smart, and not afraid of anyone. He was going to be disappointed when they reached Gare du Nord.
The heat radiating through the city and the stink from the ancient sewers outside the train station created a uniquely Parisian scent. Not exactly pleasant, but not revolting either. It was midafternoon, and Paris was humming with cars and people moving quickly across its ancient streets.
“This way.” Zhen led him toward a swarthy, good-looking man standing in front of a beaten-up Mercedes-Benz E-Class. She greeted him with double cheek-kisses and a hug, then turned to Dominic.
“Dominic, this is Francois. He will take you from here.”
“Bonjour.” Dominic extended his hand.
“Oui, bonjour, Monsieur Elliston,” replied Francois in a heavy French accent.
Zhen turned to Dominic. “Take care. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
What did she mean by that? Dominic couldn’t be sure and brushed it off for now. “Thank you for the company, Zhen. Next time we come to Paris together, I’d like to spend a little longer with you.”
She smiled and held his gaze. “Safe travels,” she said and turned to walk back toward the station.
Dominic watched her go, vaguely aware of Francois asking him to get in the car. When Zhen turned the corner into the station, the spell was broken.
They drove south through manic Parisian streets. Dominic knew parts of Paris reasonably well, having traveled many times for business and occasionally pleasure. The business travel meant he had a good recollection of the drive from Paris-Charles de Gaulle to the Jagged Edge office near Place d’Italie. But that didn’t help him now. He was totally disoriented—even without the hood this time.
Thirty minutes later, they pulled into a multistory car park and left the car. Francois led him out onto a busy street. The sound and speed of the traffic was overwhelming. He followed Francois for ten minutes before he finally recognized the Gare de Lyon across the open space of Place Louis-Armand. The station was distinctive because of the clock tower at the southern end, which looked much like Big Ben. Francois walked briskly toward the station. Dominic tried to keep up.
“Where are we going?” he asked as Francois continued to lead the way.
“You will see. I have tickets.” Francois touched his chest pocket, increasing the pace once again. “But we must be quick.”
He led Dominic past incongruous palm trees in the middle of the main hall to the departures board. Once he had confirmed their platform number, they were off again at a pace that fell just short of jogging. Finally they came to a TGV high-speed train. Dominic clocked the destination sign: Marseille.
Francois led him to a first-class carriage and settled himself opposite Dominic, facing the back of the train. Most seats in the carriage were empty, including the four seats similarly configured beside them. Dominic hoped that they would remain so.
Within five minutes the train doors closed and they moved off. Dominic considered quizzing Francois further in relation to their destination, but he decided it was pointless. Francois was a delivery boy; there was nothing to learn from him.
The frustration of being ferried around yet again had waned. He felt he’d left his chairman’s ego in Hampstead this time. He felt more like the journalist he used to be—on the hunt for a great story, into the unknown, no matter the consequences. This was what he’d been wanting for so long. He was finally getting back into his old lifestyle.
Dominic closed his eyes and the rhythmic motion of the train lulled him into a fitful slumber. Three hours later the train glided smoothly into Gare de Marseille Saint-Charles. Francois instructed him to get up and move to the doors. As soon as they were open, Francois stepped onto the platform and looked around casually. Once satisfied, he beckoned Dominic to join him. Francois hurried down the platform away from the train, his head turning constantly to scan the station.
“Where to now?” asked Dominic.
“Outside. A car will take you to the next location.”
Dominic didn’t reply. More traveling? When were they going to reach their destination? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just fly him there like last time? But perhaps without the manhandling. As frustrated as he was, he didn’t have a choice, if he was to see Sagen again, it had to be on his terms and by his rules.
Emerging from the cavernous train station, the early-evening sun was low in the sky but still bright and hot.
“Come, this way, please, Monsieur Elliston.” Francois headed toward the steps of Le Grand Escalier and the Boulevard d’Athènes below. They skipped lightly down the steps until Francois turned sharply one flight before the bottom. “This way.”
Dominic turned to his right and followed. A small, white Renault van waited underneath the stairs. Francois held up his hand. “Stay here, please.” Dominic obliged and stood in the shadows. Francois rushed up to the driver’s tinted window, which descended to reveal a swarthy man, unshaven and sweaty looking. They talked for a moment and Francois pointed to Dominic. “OK, come!” he called and waved Dominic over to the van. “This is Paul. He will take you from here.” Francois held out his hand to shake.
Dominic took it. “Thanks,” he said. He had gone past the point of questioning the process, so simply walked around to the passenger side and climbed into the van.
Paul started the engine and drove off slowly without saying a word. Fine by Dominic; he now accepted that he’d not know where he was going until he was there. Actually, if this was to be anything like his last meeting with Sagen, he probably still wouldn’t know where he was even when he got there.
They made their way down a long, wide boulevard then turned right onto a busy avenue that headed west toward the harbor. Paul fumbled with the lever to bring his seat forward then, without warning, he swerved sharply onto a narrow road with old stone buildings towering above them on either side.
“Christ, what was that about?” demanded Dominic, bracing himself against the door.
Paul ignored him and looked intently in the rear-view mirror, before changing gear and hitting the gas. He shuffled into an upright position, leaning forward, his round belly nearly touching the bottom of the steering wheel. They took another ludicrously sharp turn into an even narrower one-way street. The small engine of the van wailed in harmony with the straining tires. Paul rode the accelerator hard, and they tore down the tiny road.
“What’s going on?” yelled Dominic over the engine noise.
Paul continued to ignore him. Dominic had his hands on the dashboard, bracing himself while straining to look behind him at whatever had spooked his driver. He risked a glance at Paul who was staring at the road ahead. When Dominic looked forward, he saw that the road was about to end where a stone building began. It looked like a dead end as far as Dominic could tell. “Dead end!” he called.
Paul kept his foot firmly on the gas.
“Dead end!” screamed Dominic, with more urgency.
The van continued to accelerate.
Dominic watched in terror as the building loomed in front of them. Just before the easily stoppable force of their small van was about to plow into the immovable object, past training kicked in and Dominic defied his natural instincts. He took his hands off the dash, tipped his head forward, squeezed his eyes shut, exhaled, and relaxed his body. There was no point trying to brace for a direct impact; it would only result in more body damage, and the lungs were best emptied at the moment of impact to reduce the effects of being winded.
But rather than feeling his organs being pulverized as the van collided with the building, he felt himself thrown toward Paul, who had yanked on the handbrake and expertly taken a hidden corner. The tires screamed their objection but eventually bit the tarmac and they hurtled down yet another unfathomably narrow alley.
Twisting around, Dominic saw a large, dark saloon take the corner badly and smash into the side of the alley, its wing mirrors shattering into a thousand pieces. It kept coming, though, bouncing off the walls as the driver fought for control.
Paul didn’t slow and kept hammering along the tight r
oads, taking more gut-wrenching corners. Dominic held on as best he could, as he was flung around the van’s tight cabin.
On another narrow alley, Dominic noticed Paul reach down and press a button on a small black box. Further down the road, he could see a garage roller door opening. Paul hit the brakes but didn’t lock up the wheels, so as not to leave a mark on the road. Paul steered them into the narrow garage. The roller door was already coming down before they were all the way in. The door shut and Paul killed the engine. They sat perfectly still in pitch-darkness. Both men were breathing hard. They heard a car roar past them.
Paul turned on the interior light and found a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in a small storage compartment. He knocked out a cigarette and put it to his mouth before offering the pack to Dominic, who took one without hesitation. He needed something to take the edge off his nerves. Paul snapped the lighter and lit both cigarettes. They exhaled huge plumes of smoke into the cabin of the van.
“Who the hell was that?” asked Dominic, his hands shaking from the adrenaline spike.
Paul shrugged.
Dominic took another drag on the cigarette. “Nice driving.”
Paul exhaled another cloud of smoke and nodded.
“This your place?” asked Dominic, gesturing outside with his hand.
Paul just drew back on his cigarette again.
Dominic did the same. “Good chat.”
They sat for fifteen minutes in the car waiting in silence. Then, without warning, Paul started the engine, opened the door, and drove out slowly like they were off on a job. After thirty minutes of suburban streets, the landscape became sparser, the houses fewer and more dispersed. The dry, gray rock and clay of the countryside was adorned with pine trees, palms, and small rugged bushes set against the backdrop of the impossibly blue Mediterranean sky. The road wove through the hills near the coast and Dominic squinted to see the ocean in the distance. Another forty minutes of driving around hairpin bends and Paul suddenly took a sharp right turn off the tarmac and onto a gravel road. They bounced along, kicking up a huge dust cloud behind them. A few minutes later, they reached a parking area with a few cars. A small sign read: Col de la Gardiole.
