La Fraternité - Vérité ou Mensonge
Her fingers flipped to the index page until she found the title which translated to ‘The Fraternity — Truth or Lies’ and then continued through the pages about midway into the magazine. Engrossed with finding the article, she hadn't heard the stall owner's grumpy appeal for her to buy the magazine instead of reading it for free. He snatched it from her hand and smacked it back down onto the table with the rest. Alex leaned across the table to pick it up again increasing the angry Frenchman’s agitation. Sam leaned over and shoved a note down onto the table, snatching up the magazine after doing so. "Let's get out of here, Alex, before this guy attracts unnecessary attention."
Working their way through the crowded market, they moved toward a small patch of green grass at the edge of the canal.
"What's so important about this magazine that you had to get it?" Sam asked as they settled down onto a nearby park bench.
"I'm not sure. Might be nothing, but I have a hunch," Alex said as she bit into a large chunk of cheese and broke off a piece of bread. She flipped open the magazine and set about reading the first paragraph.
"And?"
"I'm still trying to figure it out but, judging by the few words I do understand, it's about a secret fraternity who call themselves The Resistance. According to this article, it seems they've been around for centuries and that some say they're just a myth while others believe them to have existed since…”
Alex stopped.
"Since what?" Sam urged.
"Since the French Revolution," Alex answered with a subdued voice. "Sam, I think these are the people who have been after us. Since the French Revolution, Sam!"
"Now hold on, Alex. It could just be a coincidence. The Revolution marked a lot of change, so it doesn't mean anything. What else does it say?"
"There's a lot of words I don't understand, but I think it says something along the lines that, though many believe it to be nothing but a fable, there are those who have claimed to have been part of them but managed to break free. That they are in hiding in fear of being found and killed. Sam, we need to find someone who used to be part of this group."
"And how do you intend doing that, sweetheart. It's not as if their names are listed in a central directory."
Alex flipped back and forth between the two pages. Her eyes fell on the name of the journalist. She flipped to the front cover noticing the date was only a year old.
"We need to find this journalist. Reporters always have sources. He might not give us a name, but perhaps he could arrange a meeting between us. It's our only shot, Sam. If we don't find these people first, they'll find us. And I don't think I need to remind you that they’ll kill us. It's very evident we have something they're after. We're going to need to get ahead of them if we’re to survive."
Sam paused while he deliberated the consequences.
"Fine, but I'd feel a lot better if we can get our hands on more ammunition. Just to be sure."
When the couple had eaten their fill, they lay low until nightfall. The village was eerily quiet. It was as if the bustling market square from earlier never existed.
"Where is everyone? There's not a single pub or restaurant open," Sam commented.
"Looks like a ghost town, doesn't it? Not even the apartment lights are on."
"I think everyone gets to bed early and rises early. I was hoping we'd stumble upon some gangs that could help with getting us some ammo."
"Maybe we're too early. Or in the wrong place."
They chose a side street that led toward the Metro, and it wasn't long before they took to the dark stairway leading to the underground train station. Graffiti covered walls ushered them through the poorly lit subway. Marked by loud male voices and their amber cigarette tips, as expected, a few thugs stood huddled against the wall just as Alex and Sam turned the corner. Most people stumbling upon a gang this late at night would be intimidated and turn back, but by now, Alex and Sam were well equipped to handle them—with or without guns. As the pair approached, the gang stopped laughing, slowly dispersing their tight circle. It was evident they were in the mood to cause trouble. Alex and Sam walked directly toward them, their upright demeanor sending the gang a message of their own; that they were there to do business. Two of the young men, appearing to be around nineteen or twenty at the most, took a step forward, shielding three more behind them. The taller of the two had his hands in his black bomber jacket's pockets, exposing his pants that hung low across his backside. He stuck out his chin, silently asking the question as to what Alex and Sam wanted. It was Alex who spoke in a low, confident tone.
"We're looking to buy some equipment."
The gang member ran his eyes to her feet and back up to her face.
"You a cop?" he questioned suspiciously.
"No, just need to restock our supplies.”
"What makes you think we can help you."
"Can you?"
"Maybe. Depends."
"On what?"
"What are we talking? Semi-automatic, rifles…"
"Semi's would do, untraceable of course, and enough bullets."
"It's not cheap."
"We're good for it. When can you have it?"
The young man turned to get a nod from one of his associates.
"Follow us."
With negotiations completed, Alex and Sam followed the small group of young men back toward the entrance of the tunnel. Although their initial thoughts were to negotiate that they had them deliver the guns to them, Alex and Sam had quickly assessed the group presented no threat. It was highly unlikely they were in cahoots with their assailants. Across the subway, a small narrow street took them in between more graffitied walls, passing several abandoned shopfronts. Above their heads, washing hung from the balconies of what appeared to be council apartments while the faint thudding of beatbox music disturbed the peaceful quiet of the small village. With half the gang in front of them and the other half behind them, Alex and Sam cautiously continued, testing their abilities to trust these complete strangers to the max. When the streets grew even darker, and the buildings narrowed to reveal a short alley, Alex slipped her hand into her jacket pocket to where she had hidden DuPont's revolver. It had been exposed to the water from the canal so there was no way of knowing if it would still fire, but at the very least, it should be enough to scare an attacker off. A minute later, the dark alley ended in front of what appeared to be the backdoor of a shop that seemed wholly abandoned and neglected. The gang stopped, turning around to do one final assessment on whether their new clients' were indeed to be trusted. Content with their findings, they knocked out a coded sequence of rhythmic sounds on the hollow steel door and waited. The door swung open, almost instantly, and a fat, near sumo-like figure, greeted them. Unlike the youths, he wasn't French and resembled someone of Brazilian descent. The much older man, roughly around his mid-thirties, invited the party in without hesitation.
Inside, a narrow passage led them through to where it opened up into a medium-sized shop floor. A dense layer of tobacco smoke hung thick in the air, making it nearly impossible to see to the front of the shop apart from the ability to see that the windows and door were painted black. At one end, five men sat around a square table playing poker. On the other side, two large red couches stood in an L-shape along the wall. A mirrored coffee table positioned in front of it was cluttered with a massive assortment of drugs and narcotics paraphernalia. Knelt next to it were three girls, likely to be prostitutes since their clothing left little to the imagination. The sound of a toilet flushing had Alex and Sam turn to where a door flung open behind them and a shorter than average man entered the room. His pitch-black hair was combed back into a short, sleek style. Dressed in an orange floral shirt, entirely unbuttoned, over a sleeveless black vest with black pants, he finished fastening his belt buckle. As with the others, he too appeared to be Brazilian. Much to their surprise, Alex and Sam watched as his hand reached around the saggy-pants youth's neck and pull
ed him into a warm embrace. As suspected, they both spoke Portuguese, and soon, the room turned into a joyful place of welcoming. When the pleasantries ceased, the short man turned his attention to where Alex and Sam patiently waited. With his hands on his hips, he walked across the room and paused in front of them. Now up close, Alex fought back the urge to laugh at the clichéd gold necklace and multitude of rings that adorned his body.
The boy spoke behind him, and Alex and Sam got the same lingering glance-over received by the youth earlier. A brief nod toward his sumo sidekick had the man walk across the room to where he was waiting in front of a large steel cupboard in the corner.
"Where's the money?" the short man asked in a high-pitched voice.
"First show me what you've got," Alex responded immediately.
The man called out a name, and one of the men at the table rose to his feet. His face was adorned with several piercings, and a substantial tattoo of a rose lay across his neck. He joined the big guy in front of the steel cupboard and flung open both steel doors. He proceeded to pull out three firearms and spoke in a low, raspy voice.
"We have a Sig P226 with double-action and a side-mounted decocker. This one is the Colt M1911, and this is your standard Glock 17. Each with one hundred bullets and spare clips."
This time Sam spoke, "We'll take it all," he said, producing a wad of cash from his pocket and handing it over. Alex shoved their purchases next to the encased heart in their backpack and Sam secured it on his back. Based on the saggy-pants youth's reaction, the cash was quite visibly more than they had anticipated getting. Winning favor from his ringleader and with an easy payday under the belt, they rapidly ushered Sam and Alex back out toward the alley.
Relieved the transaction had gone down smoothly, Sam pulled Alex under his arm. "What do you say we try to find ourselves a place to get some shut-eye?"
Alex agreed. Since leaving London neither of them had any sleep, apart from stealing an hour here and there.
"I could've done with testing out that king-sized bed back at the fancy hotel. Pity we never got to live it up in there fully," Sam said.
"Oh, something tells me you'll find a way to make up for it. For now, I'll settle for a park bench since all the lodges have closed for the night."
Chapter Fifteen
Relieved to be woken by the noise of early commuters instead of a kick in the shin by a grumpy elderly woman, Sam planted a gentle kiss on Alex’s head.
“Wake up sleepyhead. Time to get cracking.”
Surprised she’d slept so soundly, Alex sat up and took in the busyness of the morning. It was barely daybreak, but the dawn of the new day brought a new-found excitement to her soul.
“Think this town has an internet café?”
“I’m sure it will, although I doubt it will be open this early. I guess we could try.”
But unlike the desolate impression the village had painted the night before, the streets were alive with commuters as soon as they turned the corner into the main square. Lively chatter spilled from the street cafés and, bar a few clothing boutiques, most of the shops were already open.
“What time is it?” Alex queried, as surprised as Sam.
“Barely seven thirty a.m. Bizarre isn’t it?”
“Told you they know how to appreciate life here. We have it all wrong.”
It wasn’t long before a handwritten sign in a nearby much quieter café announced it had internet facilities. Discounting the fact that it was a far cry from the internet facilities they were used to, it would suffice, and while Sam ordered two croissants and a couple of coffees to go, Alex quickly slipped in behind the computer. The reporter’s name turned out to be quite a common one, delivering more than fifty namesakes in her search. She pulled the magazine from the rucksack and cross-referenced the title to that of the tabloid. Absorbed with her activities, Sam suddenly whispered, turning his back toward the barista.
“Keep your head down. We need to go.”
“I’m still looking.”
“There’s no time. We need to go,” Sam said with more urgency as he anxiously watched the barista turn another page. He had started reading the paper from the back as most sport enthusiasts did. One more page flip and he’d be reaching the front page.
Alex only had to look up briefly to notice the black and white photo of them next to one of Maurice d’Andigné’s on the front page of the barista’s newspaper.
“Almost done.” She pushed on as Sam once again urged their departure.
“Got it!” she exclaimed, memorizing the address before wiping the search history.
But, by the time they reached the front of the shop, the barista had already recognized the fugitives and summoned the police.
“We’re innocent!” Alex yelled back at him before running across the street.
No sooner had they reached the previous night’s rendezvous point in the subway when loud police sirens rang through the crisp morning air. Their feet thumped loudly in the confines of the subway tunnel as they raced toward the train, bumping more than one commuter out of the way. The platform hosted about three dozen train rail travelers who were staring into either their mobile phones or studying various kinds of reading material. None seemed to notice Alex and Sam’s quick arrival. Sam glanced toward the empty tracks.
“Here.” Alex pointed to the computerized train schedule on the nearby wall. The train was a few minutes from arriving. They swiftly searched for another way out and found none. Blending with the crowd deemed the only option. They chose a spot about midway between the subway and where the platform ended. A large group of blue-collar workers roughly their age stood in a huddle, a few tall enough for Sam to effectively hide amongst. Alex took out the French tabloid from her bag and mimicked the commuters while Sam leaned in over her shoulder. From behind them, the loud footsteps of the police echoed toward them. Relieved that the officers had not entirely made it onto the platform, they seized the moment to catch their breath. When a young construction worker stepped forward and created a large space, Alex and Sam were forced to shuffle closer in among the group. Their hearts pounded against their chests. Sam wiped a bead of sweat that trickled down the side of his brow. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the first policeman cautiously move between the commuters, a second one close on his heels. The platform vibrated beneath their feet, announcing the imminent arrival of the train. Twenty seconds later the train came to a slow halt in front of them and, as if one body with the small group, they stepped onto the train. Careful not to move through the passengers too quickly, they slowly pushed their way to the further most corner. Having not yet laid eyes on his fugitives, the first policeman stepped onto the train and used one of the seats to stand on, affording him a better view over the passengers. Sam turned his back toward the law enforcement officer, turned Alex to face him and fervently kissed her until the train’s doors finally shut behind them. They briefly paused, hovering in their romantic embrace while assessing if the policeman was still on the train. Much to their relief, as the train slowly rolled off, Sam spotted both policemen in a dazed and confused state on the platform.
The train made a multitude of small stops en route to the city and, using the route map displayed inside the train, Alex and Sam quickly knew which station to get off at. It was a few stations away from the train’s final destination which played in their favor since they assumed that the police would in all likelihood be waiting for them at the final stop. According to the address Alex had found on the internet, the reporter’s apartment was situated in an eastern commune about six miles from the Paris city center. When they arrived at the Mairie des Lilas train station, they disembarked onto a small, much quieter platform. Pleased that there was no sign of any police or men in suits waiting for them, they made their way through the subway into the streets. Several bakeries and coffee shops lined the cobbled road to where it stopped at a large fountain. Several food vendors traced the edges of the small village square sending an array of delicious smells pas
t them.
Nearby, a street vendor’s mobile food trolley cast blue flames and grey smoke into the air as he roasted the traditional chestnuts over an open fire and Alex briefly stopped to ask him for directions. It was a short walk through the park to where they found the old apartment building just as the vendor had directed. The building didn’t look like much with patches of paint that peeled from the walls. The small strip of grass leading to the entrance was practically non-existent, and the glass in the entrance door hadn’t been cleaned in what looked like decades. Sam pushed the number on the intercom, discovering it wasn’t working. He tugged at the door handle to find, much to his surprise, that the door was unlocked. As they entered the small dingy foyer, Alex moved to where fifteen mailboxes were fixed to a dirty lilac wall. Matching the building’s evident neglect several boxes’ apartment numbers were too faded to read. Apart from the flight of stairs, the small entranceway was empty.
“Looks like we’re taking the stairs,” Sam said, as he gazed up into the stairwell.
Stopping on each floor, they quickly concluded that the reporter’s apartment was situated on the top floor and proceeded to climb the multitude of steps to the fifth and final floor.
“I’m getting too old for this,” Sam puffed when they finally reached the top.
“Really? Thirty-two is too old for you? It’s all that food you’re consuming,” Alex joked back as she too had to stop briefly to catch her breath.
Apartment 527 was situated in the corner furthest away from the stairs. Alex gently tapped the rusted door knocker on the distressed blue wooden door. Her heartbeat accelerated when she heard the safety chain slip onto the door, followed by three more locks. A pair of green-brown eyes framed beneath heavy dark eyebrows peered at them through the small opening in the door.
The Dauphin Deception Page 11
