She smiles at us both. “Sir, madam… compliments of the house.”
She hands each of us a drink in turn. Her English is good, despite the heavy French accent.
“Our host has requested that you join him in his private booth,” she continues. “If it is convenient now, would you care to follow me?”
Ruby and I look at each other and shrug.
I get to my feet and nod to the waitress. “Sure. Lead the way.”
She turns and walks off, still balancing the tray in her hand, despite no longer carrying drinks.
Ruby leans in and whispers, “That didn’t take long.”
“No, it didn’t,” I reply. “Not sure if that’s a good sign.”
“Guess we’re about to find out.”
We follow the waitress across the main floor of the casino, attracting more and more looks from the patrons. A mix of curiosity and disdain. Judging by how many people have stared, I’m starting to think there aren’t many here who didn’t earn their fortunes by murdering people.
At the far end of the room are three steps, leading up to a raised area covered by frosted glass. A velvet rope barricades the way. The waitress unhooks it and gestures us both through. The steps are central and lead to a narrow walkway formed by the two areas shielded by the glass. To the left is empty. To the right is a man wearing a white suit with a black shirt and no tie. He’s sitting in the middle of the booth, behind the table, with two women on either side of him. Each one is wearing a short dress and heels and appears to have applied her makeup with a shovel.
The man looks up at us and grins. His teeth are so white, they glow in the dim lighting.
Remy Fortin.
“Welcome, Monsieur Adrian,” he says, then turns his attention to Ruby. “And Mademoiselle Rubis… the jewel of Paris, no?”
He laughs at his own remark, looking at his harem for support. They all giggle on cue.
His skin is flawless, hiding his advancing years. His hair is dyed jet-black and smoothed back against his head like an oil slick. He wears the permanent expression of a man who thinks he knows something other people don’t, and his smile is, in my opinion, more like the creepy sneer of a child molester.
I don’t like Remy Fortin.
Neither of us respond. I smile politely.
He continues. “When my little birdies told me Adrian Hell, the man, the… légende had walked into my establishment, I admit I was surprised. I heard you had left us mortals behind.”
I nod. “Something like that, yeah. I’m happily retired.”
Fortin gestures to the casino. “And yet…”
“Just a bit of personal business. I need a favor. Some information. Figured you were the best person to ask.”
He laughs. “Oh, Adrian. Flattery will only get you places when you look like these ladies. You want to talk business. Let’s talk.” He offers me a space in the booth with a wave of his hand. “Please.”
I step forward and place my drink on the table but remain standing.
“Thank you, but I won’t take up too much of your time. I’m just looking for someone.” I take a folded printout of the photo of Holt’s bodyguard from my pocket and hand it to him. “The big guy at the back is one of us. I want to talk to him.”
Fortin studies the photo. His face gives nothing away.
After a moment, he tosses it onto the table and shrugs. “I do not help my clientele hunt one of our own. You, of all people, should know this, Adrian.”
“That’s comforting to know. But I’m not working a contract. Like I said, this is personal. I just want to have a conversation with him. Do you know where I can find him?”
Fortin shakes his head. “Even if I did, I would not share these details with you. We maintain discretion at all times here, as we do in all of our establishments across the world. Again, you know this, Adrian. Surely, you cannot expect me to pass such information on?”
I sigh and glance at Ruby. She rolls her eyes and gives me an almost imperceptible shake of her head, confirming my fear that this is a waste of time.
I look back at Fortin. “I understand. Thank you for your time and hospitality. Ruby and I will leave you to it.”
Fortin leans forward, bringing his arms around from behind the ladies next to him and resting his hands on the table. “You wish to leave so soon? The night is still young! Sit. Drink. We can reminisce about your tales of legend, hmm?”
I smile as a courtesy. “As appealing as that sounds, we have places to be. It was good seeing you, Remy. Look after yourself.”
He sits back and grins, flashing his teeth. “I always do, Adrian. I always do.”
I step back and allow Ruby to walk away first. I quickly follow without looking back. As we head back across the casino floor, I notice that the looks we’re getting have grown less subtle and less confused. I’m suddenly aware of how we’re surrounded by people who are obviously not happy to see us.
Ruby had a point.
“One last drink?” she asks as we pass the bar.
I shake my head. “Ah, I think we should probably leave.”
She glances around and sees the staring.
“Hmm, good point. This seems to have gotten real awkward, real quick.”
“Certainly feels that way. Come on.”
We walk outside, relishing the late spring breeze. The streets are busy with nightlife. The traffic is mostly taxis.
We set off walking west, toward Place de la Concorde. I can see the obelisk stretching up into the dark sky up ahead.
“Now what?” asks Ruby as she links my arm. “I can’t say I’m surprised we got nowhere with that sleazeball, but hitting a dead end already is a real blow.”
I smile. “We’re not done yet. Remy Fortin might be the top of the food chain in Paris, but he’s not the only game in town.”
14
21:47 CEST
We grabbed the first taxi we saw and headed northeast, putting the Seine behind us. We cut through the ninth arrondissement of Paris and approached the eighteenth. It was a short drive—no more than fifteen minutes. We got out a little before our destination, close to the Sacré-Cœur Basilica. The streets are quieter here. Little traffic and few people. At times, the only sound is the clacking of Ruby’s heels on the ground.
Some of the buildings around us are nothing short of an architectural masterclass. The gothic designs are lit from below to give them an eerie majesty in the dark of night.
Since leaving Fortin’s casino, my spider sense has been in overdrive. I got a really bad vibe as we were leaving that place. Too many people were looking at us like sharks at feeding time. Not that we can’t handle ourselves. Individually, we’re both extremely capable. Together, with our backs to the wall… we’re unstoppable.
That said, it’s a hassle we don’t need. Especially when we’re trying to keep a low profile overseas.
“Where are we going again?” asks Ruby.
“There’s a class system in our world,” I explain. “Same as any other area of society. Fortin is the upper class. But Josh always insisted on keeping good relations with everyone. People like me and you wouldn’t necessarily look for contracts from the working-class equivalent, but these guys have their ears to the ground at all times. They see the truth of the world. I think Fortin can sometimes be out of touch with that.”
“Right. And you think these people will help us?”
I shrug. “If we ask nicely, why not?”
We walk on, ever aware of every dark corner, every out-of-place noise, every minute change in the wind. Paranoia saves lives.
“Have you thought about what happens next?” Ruby asks after a few minutes.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the endgame… the point to all this. We’ve had a strong start, and you’ve done a great job bringing this team together. Seriously.”
I shrug. “They didn’t need much work, really.”
“Maybe not, but they weren’t a cohesive unit. The day we met them, Li
nk tried to shoot you in the face.”
I laugh. “I do make a unique first impression.”
She rolls her eyes. “My point is, we’re on a roll here, which is great… but what’s the point? Nothing we’re doing is really that far beyond the capabilities of anyone currently on the government’s payroll. We’re meant to be Schultz’s answer to Buchanan’s team at GlobaTech, right? So, when are we going to be given something to do that justifies the time and money spent on us so far?”
“That’s a good question. Honestly, I don’t know. I think the missions we’re being given now have been sitting on someone’s desk in their not worth the trouble pile. I think Schultz and Buchanan believe there’s something coming, which they’re trying to preemptively prepare for. I also think they’re operating on limited intel and gut feelings. We’ll know more when we need to, I guess.”
“And until then? We carry on collecting our government salary like good little employees?”
I shrug. “It’s not a bad salary.”
Ruby sighs. “Yeah, it’s a good salary. I just never pictured us working for someone else.”
“Honestly, me neither. But I’m too old to play the game anymore, and we’ve both earned our retirement. This keeps us busy and has the added bonus of being the right thing to do. That’s how I justify it to myself.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I just never pictured us as the good guys, either.”
I smile. “Our world is too gray for the simple concept of good and bad. I never considered myself a bad guy, even after twenty years in the business. I just did bad things for what I believed was a good reason.”
“More justification?” she says with a grin.
“I gotta sleep at night somehow, right?” I point to a narrow side street up ahead. “This is it.”
We turn onto the street, which is little more than an alley. It’s barely wide enough for a car to drive down. The buildings on either side are mostly run-down. Some of the doors lead to the rear entrances of stores on the main street, but a lot of them are barricaded shut; the buildings are long abandoned.
Trash bags line the left sidewalk. Discarded needles and beer cans spill out of holes in the bottom, likely caused by rats scavenging for food.
Ruby doesn’t even try to hide the disgust on her face. “Where the hell are we? And what the fuck is that smell?”
I glance around and notice multiple puddles near the walls of the buildings.
“My guess would be piss,” I say casually.
She grimaces. “Christ. This contact better be worth it.”
I point to a man squatting low on his haunches, leaning against the wall beside a rotting wooden door. He’s completely covered by the long, loose coat he’s wearing. It’s dark and stained. Only a hand pokes out of the end of a sleeve. His fingers toy with a small animal that’s sitting next to him.
“We’re about to find out,” I say.
“Please don’t tell me that’s your contact.”
“Probably not. But this is definitely the right place.”
We approach the man, keeping a little distance between us. Mostly because of the smell.
I study the hunched figure for a moment. A sliver of jawline is visible beneath the hood.
“I’m looking for Corbeau,” I say.
The man looks up, revealing his face. He grins, flashing the four remaining teeth still clinging to the inside of his mouth. His eyes glisten with madness.
“Êtes-vous perdu, mon ami?” he asks.
I glance at Ruby, who looks as bewildered as I do.
I shake my head. I picked a bad night to leave my Pilot and Ili behind.
“Sorry, I don’t speak coward,” I reply. “I’m here to see Corbeau. I know this is where he lives.”
The man tilts his head from side to side, examining each of us in turn. His grin fades. Next to him, the ragged creature he’s fussing over hisses.
“My cat… he does not like you,” he says. His English is broken. His accent is thick.
Ruby takes a step back.
“That is not a cat. What is that, seriously?” She looks at me. “Adrian, what is that thing?”
It’s a cat… or, at least, a close approximation of one. There’s no fur, and scabs cover its thin, fleshy body. Its ears are pointed, although half of one is missing. Its claws are long, and its legs are frail. I can see its ribcage through its skin.
“I’m not here to impress something that looks like the stomach of another animal,” I say. “I’m also not here for any theatrics and gimmicks. I’m here to see Corbeau, and I won’t be asking again.”
The cat hisses again and curls up behind the man, sheltered by his coattails. His grin returns, more from curiosity than laughter.
“It is not polite to speak of my friend in this way,” he says, stumbling on some of the words. “This cat belongs here. The two of you do not.”
“Hey,” says Ruby. “Go tell your boss that Adrian Hell and Ruby DeSouza are here to see him. See if he thinks we don’t belong here.”
The man sighs and glances back at the cat. “My little friend, he… came to me when his owner died. He, too, was a friend of mine. Stabby Joe, we called him.”
Ruby’s eyes go wide. She shakes her head with disbelief. “Fucking… who?”
The man looks at me. “Surely, you will have heard the name Joe Valane?”
I shrug. “Can’t say I have.”
“Oh, monsieur, Joe Valane… he was the master of the—” He raises his hand and slashes the air with an imaginary blade. “Moved like the night itself. You never heard him until his steel… it was pressing the flesh, you know. Hence the name… Stabby.”
His accent prolonged the word. Stah-beee. Jesus.
“How did he die?” asks Ruby.
The man shrugs and screws his face up. “Meh, somebody, they… shoot him while he eat.”
“Well, that’s what you get for bringing a knife to a gunfight,” I say. “Sorry about your friend, and sorry about insulting that… thing back there. But we’re in kind of a hurry, and patience isn’t really my thing, so if you could go get Corbeau, we can leave you to be homeless in peace.”
Before he gets the chance to say anything, the door next to him opens from the inside.
I glance over at Ruby. “Looks like someone’s inviting us in.”
“Great,” she mutters. “I’m so glad I wore heels.”
We head inside, not bothering to look back. We enter a small, narrow vestibule, with stairs descending in front of us. The walls are damp and cracked. The air tastes stale.
I go first, walking down the metal staircase. I try to ignore the straining of the bolts beneath our combined weight. It’s longer than it looks, and it seems to take an age to reach the bottom.
When we do, we step off into a large, underground warehouse. The roof is high, with a row of small windows just below it, maybe thirty feet above us, that look out at the street.
As Ruby moves next to me, I hear her gasp at the sight before us.
“Oh my God…” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say. “This is something else.”
Sprawling out before us is a bustling shanty town—the slums of Paris, tucked away beneath the streets, hidden from the judgmental eyes of the public who would rather live in blissful ignorance.
Makeshift wooden stands are scattered about like a market, forming a natural pathway through. We set off along it, glancing without slowing at the stalls we pass. Food, clothing, weapons—this place has everything.
There are so many people here. I imagine a lot of them are simply homeless, as opposed to professional assassins either lying low or operating at the bottom of the food chain, looking to move up.
I had heard about this place, but I’ve never been here until now.
Ruby is attracting a lot of attention. The men stare for obvious reasons. The women seem fascinated by her clothes. I glance at her. She looks uncomfortable. On edge. I can’t tell if she’s getting ready to run or getti
ng ready to fight.
Three men approach us, emerging from the crowds and forming a line to block our path. We stop in front of them. I wait for someone to say something. Whoever talks first is usually in charge.
The man in the middle looks us both up and down, then smiles.
“Monsieur, mademoiselle, welcome,” he says. “Allow me to show the way, eh?”
He gestures for us to follow him. There isn’t really an alternative option.
The men lead us through the small town and into an area covered by plastic sheets hanging from above. In here are several large units formed by wooden frames, which appear to serve as places to sleep. There are lots of stained mattresses and tents. Some are occupied; some are not.
We finally stop in front of a unit much larger than the others. Inside is a tattered sofa, with a man standing on either side, discreetly holding silenced SMGs. Sitting on it is a third man, who’s wearing a long, stained overcoat similar to the man we saw outside. He’s overweight without being obese. His gray hair stands out against his dark, mottled skin. He’s looking at us, grinning with yellowed teeth.
“My, my,” he says, his voice booming in the underground acoustics. “This is truly an honor. Do you know who we have here, boys? We are in the presence of greatness, I swear on my soul.”
I hold his gaze, saying nothing. Beside me, I feel Ruby’s body tense. I suspect her patience is wearing thin, and she’s one of the few people I know whose tolerance for games is as limited as mine.
“I heard you were in my city,” he continues.
“Word travels fast,” I say casually.
“It does for me. Tell me, how is Remy?”
I shrug. “He’s a slimy, selfish piece of shit with ideas above his station.”
A moment of tense silence falls on us all. Behind me, the three men who brought us here shuffle on the spot. On either side of the sofa, grips are tightened on weapons. The man on the sofa stands, showing his full height and width. He walks up to me, holding my gaze. Then another smile spreads across his face. I reciprocate.
“Adrian, it is good to finally see you, no?” He extends his hand, which I shake. “Tell me, how is our mutual friend doing?”
The Devil You Know Page 10
