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Thomas was faring no better than Nadia; he had taken to pacing back and forth in front of the apartment building, giving those entering and leaving suspicious glances. Not knowing what Black looked like was doing terrible things to his anxiety levels; half-expecting a sharp blow to the head to be his contact's method of introduction was not helping either. After jumping a full foot into the air at being lightly brushed against by a child that had begun imitating his pacing, Thomas decided sitting was a safer plan and settled onto a concrete bench to wait. He glanced at his watch often and the minutes gradually crawled past as the springtime sun gently warmed him along with the bench he sat on. He was almost grateful when he finally spotted someone who could actually be Black, simply because it gave him something to focus on.
The man in question was an average-looking sort of fellow of medium build, whose nondescript features left little impression other than that he had shaved recently. A good mix, Thomas supposed, if you wanted to go unnoticed. Or, it would have been, had he not been dressed the way he was. He wore an honest-to-goodness trench-coat, despite the temperature finally rising to that of a proper spring day, and had a low-brimmed hat that seemed like a cross between what one would expect of a gunslinger from the Old West and a sombrero. He approached Thomas slowly, his eyes darting around at the passersby. Finally sitting on the opposite end of the bench, he looked at Thomas out of the corner of his eye.
"You the one I'm meeting? Carmichael, right?"
Thomas nodded, but some nagging feeling in the back of his mind drove him to make sure this man was who he assumed he was. "Yeah, that's me. And you are?"
"Black. But you knew that already. I respect a man who keeps information to himself; it's a smart way to go about these things. There's no need to look at me like you're expecting me to shoot you, though. I haven't done anything to hurt you or your lady friend yet and at this point there's no reason for me to change that. So can we get underway? Punctuality is important in my business."
Thomas nodded, satisfied he was who he claimed to be despite his oddities. "Yeah, good point. It's a fair ways to walk, so we had better get going."
The man frowned. "Walk? Don't you have a vehicle of some kind?"
Thomas shrugged. "Nadia does, but she took it on ahead. So, we walk to the nearest bus stop and wing it from there."
"The bus." Black looked at him incredulously for a full ten seconds. "Look, kid, I know it's normal for you, but I typically do not take the bus. It's... just a bad idea for men in my line of work. People recognize us, y'know?"
Thomas coughed quietly to stifle a snort. "Did you ever consider dressing more casually?"
"We're not here for your style recommendations, kid," Black retorted, before looking to the street and seeing a taxi parked there, its driver leaning against it while taking a cigarette break. "I have a better idea."
Thomas rolled his eyes, his nerves entirely forgotten over the course of their banter. "Fine, but you're paying."
Black led the way over to the taxi, nodding at the driver. "You up for giving us a lift?"
The driver nodded, taking a last drag on his cigarette before grinding it under his heel. "Yeah, sure, it's been a slow day. Get in."
Black nodded and went around to the far side, Thomas sliding into the back seat with him. The driver looked at them in the rear-view mirror. "Where are you going?"
Thomas blinked. He knew he wasn't supposed to tell before their arrival, but... they were already in the cab, they would be there in a few minutes. What was the harm at this point? "100 Elgin Street, the Lord Elgin Hotel."
The driver nodded and Black whistled. "She's picked us a heck of a fancy place just for talking."
Thomas smiled quietly. "A safe place, too. Security staff on the premises, plus there's the police station just down the street."
Black laughed aloud at this. "Not taking any chances, eh? Well, whatever makes you feel most comfortable; it makes no difference to me."
They fell silent after that, watching the scenery pass them by. Streets, the Queensway, crossing the Rideau River, exiting at Catherine and Metcalfe before turning onto Elgin. Thomas smiled as he saw the police station go past on their left, feeling a little safer already. Proceeding further up the street, he could almost make out the War Memorial a few blocks further along and the Lord Elgin about halfway between it and the cab, the multinational flags at its front easily visible around the towering shape of Place Bell; his peace of mind was shaken, however, when the driver abruptly made a left turn, cutting across the opposing lane to pull into a small parking area wedged in between two buildings. Thomas looked around, confused, as they parked at the very back of the small area.
"Sir? I think you're mistaken, the Lord Elgin is further up the street than this."
The driver nodded. "Yeah, I know." He jerked a thumb outside and Thomas saw a small crowd of people forming around the car. "You won't be making it that far."
Thomas felt a stone form in his gut and he turned back to Black. "So that's how it is, huh?"
The man chuckled smugly as he removed his hat, running a hand through the sparse, brown hair framing a bald spot on the top of his head. "Yeah, that's how it is. Oh and for the record, I'm not Black."
Thomas nodded slowly, realizing what had happened. "The note wasn't from him at all, was it?"
Not-Black tipped his hat at him mockingly. "Smart kid. But I'm afraid our little chat has to be cut short. You have a prior engagement you don't want to be late for."
Thomas felt the door behind him open and several pairs of strong hands seized him by either arm. He was dragged bodily from the vehicle, then into a small space off of the parking area. Thrown against the rearmost wall of this, he did his best to stand up straight to face the dozen people that had wedged themselves in with him.
He smiled grimly. "I know I can't talk you out of doing this, so let's get to it, shall we? The sooner we start, the sooner one of you hits me in the head and I don't have to feel the rest."
They obliged; but they did not strike him in the head in a hurry.
In Icarus' Shadow Page 11
