Turn 1-
“Stop it. Don’t put a new chapter in just because you can, Antwain.”
“Excuse me?”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Seth.”
Well, ignoring my father’s less than subtle mental problems, our waiter decided to bring out more bread as I leaned into my chair, folding my arms while the man simultaneously decided to take out his cellphone and a baguette at the same time. Seems like he was one of those disgusting types of people that ate while he chatted.
Taking a bite, I could just see the crumbs escaping his gnashing teeth as he said
“Now, because we’re taking down a Frenchman we must do it the French way. Do you have his numéro de telephone?”
“… Maybe? I’ll take a look; you aren’t actually going to call him tonight now, are you?”
“Of course. Do it today, enjoy your free time until your match to resume your negotiations. Besides, this isn’t a threat from Products for Patriots; this is monstres sans frontiers now and as one of the top soldiers, it’s only right that I look out for me PMC’s interests. Find it yet?”
“Yeah… here’s everything you need. I think.”
Sliding the folder across the table, all that I could do now was sit and wait, watching to see how my so called father took care of matters. Leaning back, enjoying my own elongated breadstick that made the Italian version look puny, I barely took my first bite when Pierre suddenly jumped from the table, going straight away to jabbering in French with his new found friend and foe.
I’ll write the translation in English if only to save you time.
“Nicolas! Mr. Sarkozy, the king of shipping himself! How are you doing, man?”
“… I’m sorry. Do you have me confused for the president? I don’t think we’ve talked before.”
“Oh, you’re just the guy I want. Nicholas Sarkozy, owner of Tatou Blindé, the man with a monopoly on arms and high value shipping on the colder side of the Atlantic.”
“Are you PMC, Banker, or a private investor?”
“Name’s Pierre Belmont, the best dam Frenchman in MSF. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
The smile that came to my father’s face was priceless, as if belonging to a little school boy. If only I remembered my own cell phone; black mail is particularly useful these days.
“I actually have. Grand Boss has mentioned you a few times, trying to set us up for a lunch. How’s the campaign in Sudan going?”
Pierre looked around, as if nervous in being caught here in America instead of fighting out the war where he should be. “As well as to be expected. This isn’t so much a conflict over authority but rather hate between tribes. This may turn into a battle that only ends when the other side is completely wiped out.”
“That’s a shame. Genocide isn’t good for business; takes a long time for a foe to come back from zero. Anyway, what can I do for you Pierre? Need something expressed delivered to Sudan?”
“Well, my problem is a bit more complicated. As you know, we’re big friends with Products for Patriots: Grand Boss is the third cousin once removed of Sherry’s or something like that. Point is, our number one arm’s dealer is PFP, and we stay in business only when they stay in business.
“However, a little birdie told me that you’ve been hard lining Sherry and are attempting to extort her. Any truth to that?”
“Of course not!” I heard the speaker explode, the man trying to make the lie all the more convincing through volume alone. “We’re simply renegotiating our terms. Nothing more!”
“Really?” Pierre asked, fork wedged between two fingers and his smoke between a few others. How the heck was this man so dexterous? Better yet, who ate Ratatouille and used a cigarette at the same time? “Because the last time I checked, nearly doubling one’s fee when you’re already paying hundreds of thousands of dollars in shipping isn’t just a rip off, it’s larceny. That’s not classy at all, Nicolas; that’s simply being a dick.”
I almost wondered if Pierre played his cards too early; now that Sarkozy knew that my father was more than simply aware of the present deal, things could turn ugly very quickly. Would the man simply end the call now and cower, hoping that the mercenary wouldn’t come after him? Would he try do blackmail Pierre himself, a man with so dirty a past that most of the world’s governments would pay millions to bring him in?
Seems Nicolas was smarter than that. He continued to negotiate, though with nowhere near the same success that he had in hard balling my daughter.
“Pierre, you know how we Frenchman deal. We keep the price high, then drive it down slowly and slowly until we settle on terms in our favor. I never intended to charge her a hundred and fifty percent-
“Shut it, Nicolas. I have little patience for your excuses.
“If you were in any other business I wouldn’t have cared what you wanted to do. A hundred, a thousand, even ten thousand times the amount she was paying would make no difference to me. Unfortunately, men live and die according to the quality of the weapons we have, meaning I need to have this affair settled and swept under the carpet before the week is done.
“So here’s my terms, non-negotiable. You’re going to play a chess match soon with Seth Sears; he’s going to make you an offer of retaining your services with a ten percent increase to your normal charges for the immediate future. You’re going to take that offer.”
“And… if I don’t?”
Pierre, standing from the table as if to put even more ferocity into his threat, issued “Then every day you waste refusing to distribute the Patriots weapons will be a day you’ll spend in my private cellar as a blood bag, freezing in an ice box as I suck you close to the point of death every morning and every night.”
They say silence is golden, and more so than ever I was beginning to understand truly what that phrase meant. I would have paid with a ten-pound gold bar just to see this moment repeated, Pierre standing so triumphant and with such pride that for once I could find myself in him. Nicolas, all too aware of the world of vampires, knew exactly the kind of fate that awaited him if he didn’t surrender now, the everlasting hellfire and sick, guilty sexual pleasure that would arouse from this sort of abuse that could break a man’s mind in two. There was no threat greater to those in our realm than this, and we didn’t even get to the unspoken damage that Pierre had threatened to dish out.
A vampire, if he can steal a sufficient amount of life force from a person, would take in their memories as well (with few exceptions). Everything that Nicolas loved, liked, admired, or even passingly thought to be good would be known to Pierre, all becoming threats and targets for the vampire’s unyielding path of destruction. Wife, children, pets, friends, acquaintances would all be put on the chopping block, assigned a timer for death and practically assigned the same sentence as a patient with terminal cancer. There was no hope for life after it was so utterly exposed in this way.
So the course that Nicolas took was obviously the only sane one. “… I’ll discuss the matter with Seth and Sherry and have the matter resolved by the end of the week.”
“Excellent! Normally I’d offer to pay a visit, but I get the feeling you’d never like to hear from me again. Keep your word and you’ll never even have to hear the name Belmont; otherwise, I’ll personally drain you in front of your wife first before I drag you to your cell. Is that clear?”
“… it is.”
“Then to that, I bid adieu.”
Pierre shut the phone just as the second round of food arrived. I almost wondered if the server had waited just for such a moment; this dramatic finish had to be yet another production of an ageless vampire, an intelligent being so careful and crafty as he moved strings about that it seemed there were no puppets at all.
Yet what was it to me if this was a part of his plan? More food was here, the job was done, and I was that much closer to going to see my beloved. Let the entertainer have his laugh; all I wanted was what I paid for.
No m
atter how much of a fool it made me look in the end, or the lies it would spread about my reputation.
Turn 18
From the Notes of Sherry Sears
File 1115: Seth Sears vs Nicolas Sarkozy (Arms Dealer).
Winner: Seth Sears.
Turn count: 27
Pieces lost: 2 pawns, 1 knight.
Outcome: Seth Sears advanced to next round. Nicolas Sarkozy, fearful for his life, agreed to the terms as presented by Seth and came to my office straight away, practically begging to be spared and to get Pierre Belmont off his back. Although I told him that I had nothing to do with Pierre (which is mostly true, given he is not under my direct command), I pacified him with the assurance that as long as he remained fair in our business dealings, I’d do my best to keep him alive given that trouble I would have to go through to replace him.
Unfortunately, by 2013 Nicolas had come under the influence of the then revitalized Sons of Cato and fled to Austria, turning over all of his shipping to them and ceasing all further contracts with us. True to his word, Pierre quickly found him and tortured him for the space of twenty-three days before he accidentally took too much, killing Nicolas from blood loss. In order to avoid controversy, after Pierre eliminated the remaining shareholders and assumed control of the company, we liquidated Sarkozy’s assets and sold most of their inventory to some dummy front connected to the Degum sisters.
As it stands, some manager working for Winter and Ela worries about the shipping and distribution, while my company simply works on the production. As we are two separate groups no media outlet can accuse us of monopolizing the PMC business, though we are coming closer and closer to doing so in our goal of recreating our Outer Heaven. Given how much progress his death alone made, I should have simply had him offed years ago.
File closed and classified under Instrumentality Project security. If you have clearance to read this file, please do not share with non-authorized personal. Thank you.
File no longer classified. Reason: Fight fire with fire. The Hounds of Ingersoll wants to make us the Patriots? I’m more than willing to prove them right.
Times of Peace: Volume 1 of the side adventures to The Mercenary's Salvation Page 60
