Disclaimer: The characters and events depicted in this story are fictional. Any similarity to any actual person, living or dead, or to any actual events, firms and institutions and other entities is coincidental and unintentional. All characters used are the legal property of Marvel and its constituents.
Author's Note: Unlike my previous X-men fic, we have mutants! Oh my! Enjoy and please review! I'd like to thank my sister, Peaches, for looking over it! The next chapter should be up relatively soon, fingers crossed but I am going home for two weeks!! Be kind, review!
To Catch A Thief
CHAPTER I
Bad Moon Rising
BAIT, n. A preparation that renders the hook more palatable. The best kind is beauty.
French Riviera, Nice, Côte d'Azur, France
The cool summer breeze from the coast offered a delighted relief to the humidity in the air to the residents of the many hotels and villas that lined the coastline. The waves crashed into the night causing the dull rocking of the boats anchored along the docks and the distant cries of the seagulls heralding the coming sunrise. It was the beginning of another lazy day with the promise of sweet relief from the weather with a coming storm.
"My jewels! I've been robbed! Someone stole my jewels!" came the shrilly cry from a penthouse suite.
"À l'aide! Police!" called another voice even louder echoing across the beach breaking the lull of the early morning sleep.
"My diamonds! They're gone! Help!" came a final yell from a neighboring villa causing the Côte d'Azur to spring to life with a flurry of activity and it was only just the beginning.
Paris, France
The sterility of the morgue was off-putting to the on-call detective as she used her handkerchief to try to block out the heavy stench of ammonia in the air even from the outside hallway. Getting called in at two in the morning was not her idea of a good start to the day. She was left waiting for the primary detective and coroner to be done with their initial exam of the deceased. From dispatch, the rumors stated homicide; she gave another shudder and tried to take her mind off it by counting the cracks in the white stucco tile beneath her. Sometimes working in the violent crimes division gave her the creeps.
"M'demoiselle?" called a the voice of the primary detective, steeling her resolve, she entered the double doors.
Looking at the corpse of the once vibrant girl, Jean-Paul winced in sympathy. The white sheets that covered both halves of the body left little to the imagination. After her body had been recovered from the spire of Notre-Dame, it had split leaving her split in two. Her internal organs barely held in. It was a shame to see another Montrealer murdered in such a way.
"Hi, ça a…ça a fessé," he declared with a wince, earning a commiserating nod from the laid-back detective who was at the scene, he supposed that he was just waiting to no longer be responsible for the evidence. The girl was found impaled on one of the highest spires of the Notre-Dame cathedral by a tourist hoping to catch a panoramic picture of the Parisian landmark at night.
The doors swung open to reveal the posh figure of a female detective, clearly she wasn't used to being among the dead. This is going to be a long night.
A bright flare caused her eyes to widen at one of the men wearing the traditional hospital scrubs and stark white lab jackets. A mutant.She shook her head slightly to reorient herself to listen to what the primary was saying and ignore the urge to stare openly at his aura. It wasn't her place to out him in public it would only draw attention to herself. She didn't need that this early in the morning, not with the chaos over the Mutant Registration Act going over across the Atlantic with those damned Americans. They both were looking at her expectantly. Steeling her resolve she opened the dossier she was holding.
"Genevieve Darcenaux, 26 ans. Partenaire depuis peu chez Cartier," she began, ignoring the raised eyebrow of the coroner. "Célébataire, pas d'enfant, trios condos: un à Boca Raton et deux à Nice," she finished. "Aucun lien connu avec la mafia. A été impliquée dans un affaire lié au vol d'un diamant, il y a lieu quelques ans, mais jamais détenue par la police. Elle conduit un Volvo. Voulez-vous savoir autre chose?" she finished looking at the primary.
"Ouais, est-elle vierge?" he said mockingly. Causing the coroner to grin. Urg, men.Seeming to remind himself of his lack of manners, he gestured in between herself and the coroner. "Monet, Jean-Paul; JP, Monet St. Croix, détective au préfet," introduced the primary, the coroner held out his hand in greeting, looking at it in horror, he gave her a funny look. Looking down, his hand was still covered in a latex glove, now with the addition of Darceneaux's blood.
Clearing her throat, she gave a small smile, "Enchanté."
"Salut," he replied pulling back his hand with a shrug clearly not seeing the problem.
"Je sais qu'à première vue, comme ça, elle a l'air d'un comptable rigide, mais fie-toi pas aux apparences, elle est pas comptable," the primary grinned with a vague nod to her. She inwardly bristled.
"D'accord," replied Jean-Paul with smirk.
"Êtes-vous en mesure d'évaluer…" she started trying to get this over with.
"À quelle hauteur elle est tombée?" the coroner interrupted, speaking very fast causing her to stare. "Ça dépend de la vitesse de l'hélicoptère," he assured with a grin.
"Wô, wô, wô, qui a parlé d'hélicoptère?" asked the primary. Monet never met someone with that much energy in the earlier morning, it was unsettling.
"Attends un peu," said Jean-Paul sarcastically, "je pense c'est moi là, moi j'ai en parler. Ça peut pas être un avion, un avion c'est trop vite, elle aurait coupée en deux sans votre aide." A pointed look was given to the primary, who reddened slightly, apparently despite being impaled on one of the spires of Notre-Dame, the victim was only torn into two upon removal. Monet had a new respect for the coroner despite her inability to follow his quick monologue. "Un parachute qui a pas ouvert, elle l'aurait encore sur le dos. Personne se pitche en bas d'un deltaplane. C'est bien trop compliqué avec les straps puis tout," he stated miming out the actions of removing a parachute, Monet snickered despite the glare that the primary gave her. "Tu dois être bien determinée. Le festival des montgolfières est pas commencé, puis si c'est une cigogne, elle a poignée du trafic en hostie car elle est 26 ans en retard. D'après moi, hélicoptère."
Monet shared a look with the other detective, trying to absorb the information he gave in such a short time. She noticed that he was leaving out the other possibility, the helicopter theory was plausible but so was the involvement of a mutant. It was the elephant in the room that haunted her at every turn, a dirty secret that was never spoken out loud. He knew. She could understand his hesitance, even in Europe the idea of mutants was still the stuff of comic books. Not even taking a breath, Jean-Paul continued with his differential tearing her away from her musings.
"Mais, pour répondre à la question initiale," he said crossing his arms." Au plus haut, 80 mètres. Mais c'est pas un calcul exact. Un corps inerte en chute libre fait 30 mètres à la seconde, ok?" Pointing to the body, he declared, "selon les dégâts, ça, c'est minimum 25 mètres. Maximum 80. J'ai le feeling que ça peut pas être 60 mètres. Parce qu'à 30 mètres à seconde, ça veut dire que sa chute aurait été d'exactement 2 secondes. C'est un chiffre trop rond, je le sens pas, ça se peut pas. Il y a rien de si précis dans la vie. Afin d'après moi, 80 mètres."
His math was correct, from what she could follow. Noticing an evidence bag, Monet peered closer to the body trying not to gag at the smell. "Et ça, qu'est-ce que c'est?"
"Ça, c'est…comment tu dis ça, un jeux de cartes," Jean-Paul replied holding the plastic bag, a burnt playing card. "La reine des cœurs, spécial, hein? Mais c'est pas tout…" he trailed off, showing Darcenaux's arm, where it appeared that the card was burned into her arm.
"Pourquoi il y a du sang?" asked Monet, looking at part of the burn, it looked fresh.
"S'elle tombé de 200 pieds, ça a breaké sec en hostie," commented the other detective. "Mais de tout façon, une brûlure, JP, ça peut prendre une dizaine de jour à cicatriser?"
"Mais c'est bien plus frais que ça. Quelques heures à peine. Elle a pas commencée à cicatriser pantoute," said Jean-Paul. "Pantutti for you," he grinned at Monet, she just blinked at him owlishly.
"Mais pourquoi..." asked the primary detective.
"…cette partie du brûlure saigne pas? C'est weird, hen?" Jean-Paul said gesturing to the part of her arm that seemed only pinkened by the severity of the burn.
"La fille peut…" started the primary only to be interrupted by the coroner.
"La fille peut avoir brûlée son bras y a deux mois et finir aujourd'hui, métons?" Jean-Paul asked but interrupted the primary's answer with a buzz sound. "Mauvaise réponse! Droit de réplique de la charmante détective."
Monet tried to think of another answer but before she could open her mouth, Jean-Paul cut in.
"Trop long! C'est plus fucké que ça, c'est l'inverse. Le bout qui saigne a été fait en premier avant qu'elle meure. La partie qui saigne pas a été faite après qu'elle meurte. Ça se voit à cause de la pigmentation du peau. Fait qu'elle était morte avant la chute. C'est pas la chute qui l'a tuée," he said gesturing to the burn mark. "Et c'est là que j'en arrive avec ça," he picked up Darcenaux,s head to show her matted hair and a fatal skull fracture. "La coagulation sanguine de cette blessure-là correspond à celle du brûluuure," he said drawing out the word. "Les blessures de la chute sont plus récentes. Les patterns sont pas les mêmes."
"Ok, fait qu'elle était morte avant de tomber?" asked the primary, Monet rolled her eyes, even she understood that from the coroner's verbal diarrha. "D'abord, pourquoi la brûlure? Une signature?"
"Mais pourquoi la reine des coeurs?" Monet mused.
"Je peux te donner mille de raisons," declared the primary with assurance.
"Une seule suffira," declared Monet hating his grandiose attitude.
Leaning closer to her, like he had some grande secret, he murmured, "Le Diable Blanc."
Monet's eyes widened. JP looked confused. And the other detective picked up the evidence bag, waving the card in her face.
"Merci, JP," he said.
"Pas de trouble. S'il y a du neuf, je t'appelle," Jean-Paul said, looking at little bewildered at tension that was now in the room. Monet grabbed the evidence bag from the primary making her responsible for the evidence and left the morgue with a nod to the coroner who gave a weak grin.
"Merde." She was going to have to make a call to Europol field office. Why did she have to die in Paris? It was going to be a long day. She sighed fingering the bloodied playing card in the plastic evidence bag. A Queen of Hearts.
Washington, DC, USA
There was one thing that Robert Drake dreaded, even more than the nagging itch of the lobbyists for Senator Kelly's vendetta against mutants. That sinking feeling that you get when you know that sooner or later your number is up and there isn't anyway you can weasel out of it. He was currently having a stare down with his cell phone and probably weirding out the new probie agent that was debating whether to cross his path to get to the coffee machine.
Usually Bobby loved his job; he got paid to stop the bad guys. It was enough to get him a girl every night at the bars that he frequented with his fellow agents. In this case, the AD assigned him the job of scheduling an emergency meeting of their unit due to as of four hours ago a national security risk. Bobby forgot what color he was supposed to use now. Blue? Fuchsia? Orange?
He wasn't worried about the powder keg that the Bureau was sitting on, no, he was worried if Special Agent Marie D'Ancanto was going to drain him dry as soon as she found out that after five long years, her first vacation since graduating at Quantico would be cut-short. They'd be lucky to find his body. Sighing he hit number three on his speed dial.
"Hey Roguey, have you seen the paper?" And he waited for the other shoe to drop.
London, England
Boredom was something Pete Wisdom avoided much in the same way he did with commitment. He couldn't even be bothered with getting a plant ever since he killed Romany's on the one occasion she asked him to flat-sit. His fingers itched towards his ciggs that were beneath a pile of paperwork from his last bust. Smoking was prohibited in the department since Scicluna filled a complaint about the smell. Bloody stuck-up bint, he thought darkly. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he debated whether to sneak out for a fag before tackling his paperwork. He was in-between cases and was caught in the fallout of six months worth of backlogged performance reviews and expense reports.
"Oi! Wisdom!" called Johanssen approaching him with a thick dossier. Bloody hell, not more!
"Wot?" he replied irritably.
"Fancy a trip 'cross the pond?" she grinned dangling the folder marked TOP SECRET.
Things were looking up.
The Hague, Netherlands
Rushing down the halls, Agent Jamie Maddox tried not to trip as he vainly rushed down the corridor. Slamming into the double doors he bounced back harshly causing to multiples to form. Wincing he rubbed his shoulder and glanced around. No one else was on the concourse, giving a breath of relief he tried the door again, the door was locked. Leaving his multiples in the hallway he detoured around and ran towards the far entrance to the conference hall. Slowing to a quick walk he tried the door and it clicked open, he could hear that the presentation had already begun. Vainly brushing the sweat from his brow, he straightened his tie and entered the room.
Front and center was one of Europol's finest agents and recently made detective, Wanda Maximoff presenting on behalf of her division. He cringed at interrupting but he was the only agent from their division left to man the phones in the office. He seriously contemplated sending a dupe but even they had more self-preservation.
"Master thieves who practice the long con live separate lives as civilians. They have legitimate jobs and families which make them extremely difficult to catch," stated Detective Maximoff holding the entire room enraptured. Maddox made his way towards the podium slowly.
"The greatest thieves of all time are without question the members of the illustrious Thieves' Guild," Detective Maximoff continued, hearing a couple of snickers across the room about hearsay.
"Skepticism aside for this urban myth of an entire syndicate working below the radar of every law enforcement agency, it's leader the Diable Blanc, who's aliases include Robert Lord, though we may never know for certain because he was never captured or photographed despite his activity over the last fifteen years to drop suddenly off the map. Though he left behind a slew of imitators, our division is focusing on the one worth mentioning, the thief we know only as Pyro," she bit out, her eyes flashing.
"So named for the signature Zippo lighters he leaves behind to taunt us as well as the significant property damage due to arson. Pyro must be considered our number-one priority. His string of high-profile crimes are an embarrassment to our branch, to our entire profession. We need more than traditional resources to pursue criminals like Pyro. We need to train ourselves to think the way they think, to see what they see. And we should not allow ourselves to be distracted…" declared passionately until her eyebrow twitched to agent Maddox who had shuffled close enough to her to clear his throat.
If looks could kill, there would be one less Europol agent in the world. Leaning his mouth next to her ear, he hastily whispered, "Sorry, but the Diable Blanc has returned."
"What?!" shrieked Detective Maximoff causing the overhead lights to flicker and burst with electricity.
Fort Meade, Maryland, USA
Ruby tinted sunglasses glinted the glare from the overhead florescent lighting of the drab office. A few female agents sighed at the passing of the famous Scott Summers. He had a perfect case record, the rumors boasted. First in his graduating class at West Point and had broken most of the long-standing records in marksmanship. He was the perfect agent. Moving up in the ranks since his first major case of ending the infamous heists of the Diable Blanc.
He approached the case board with a firm jaw. With a deft hand, he erased an already closed case, written in the standard black marker. Some fellow agents leaned over their cubicles at the odd behavior; usually the board was only cleared with the changing of directors with a staff party. Grabbing a red marker with ferocity, he rewrote the case number. When done, he stormed out of the main room causing the door to slam. Some older agents snickered. Looks like Summers' perfect record hit a snag.
New Orleans, Louisiana, USA
"Hostie de merde de tabarnak."
BOUNDARY, n. In political geography, an imaginary line between two nations, separating the imaginary rights of one from the imaginary rights of the other.
To be continued…
Chapter Track: Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival (Green River)
Questions I Would Like To Answer Before You Ask or Get The Pitchforks & Villagers:
French Lexicon:
"À l'aide! Police!"
- Help! Police!
"M'demoiselle?"
- Miss?
"Hi, ça a…ça a fessé."
- That had to hurt.
"26 ans. Partenaire depuis peu chez Cartier."
- 26 years old. Recently partner at Cartier.
"Célébataire, pas d'enfant, trios condos: un à Boca Raton et deux à Nice."
- Single, no kids. Three condos : one in Bocca and two in Nice.
"Aucun lien connu avec la mafia. A été impliquée dans un affaire lié au vol d'un diamant, il y a lieu quelques ans, mais jamais détenue par la police. Elle conduit un Volvo. Voulez-vous savoir autre chose?"
- No known mob links. Was implicated in an affair linked to the theft of a diamond a couple of years ago, was never convicted. She drives a Volvo. Do you want to know anything else?
"Ouais, est-elle vierge?"
- Yeah, is she a virgin?
"Détective au préfet."
- Detective at the prefecture.
"Enchanté."
- Nice to meet you.
"Salut."
- Hi.
"Je sais qu'à première vue, comme ça, elle a l'air d'un comptable rigide, mais fie-toi pas aux apparences, elle est pas comptable,"
- I know at first glance, like this, she looks like a rigid accountant, but don't let appearances fool ya, she's not an accountant.
"D'accord."
- Gotcha.
"Êtes-vous en mesure d'évaluer…"
- Are you trying to find out…
"À quelle hauteur elle est tombée?"
- At what height she fell?
"Ça dépend de la vitesse de l'hélicoptère,"
- It depends on the speed of the helicopter.
"Wô, wô, wô, qui a parlé d'hélicoptère?"
- Wo, wo, wo, who said anything about a helicopter?
"Attends un peu."
- Wait a minute.
"Je pense c'est moi là, moi j'ai en parler. Ça peut pas être un avion, un avion c'est trop vite, elle aurait coupée en deux sans votre aide."
- I think it was me, I was talking about it. It can't be an airplane, an airplane is too fast, she would have been cut in two without your help.
"Un parachute qui a pas ouvert, elle l'aurait encore sur le dos. Personne se pitche en bas d'un deltaplane. C'est bien trop compliqué avec les straps puis tout."
- An unopened parachute, she would have still had it on her back. No one throws themselves of a handgilder. It's way too complicated, with the straps and everything.
"Tu dois être bien determinée. Le festival des montgolfières est pas commencé, puis si c'est une cigogne, elle a poignée du trafic en hostie car elle est 26 ans en retard. D'après moi, hélicoptère."
- You need to be very determined. The air-balloon festival hasn't started, and if it was a stork, it was stuck in some serious fuckin' traffic because it's 26 years too late. In my opinion, helicopter.
"Mais, pour répondre à la question initiale."
- But, to answer your initial question.
"Au plus haut, 80 mètres. Mais c'est pas un calcul exact. Un corps inerte en chute libre fait 30 mètres à la seconde, ok?"
- At the very highest, 80 meters. But this isn't an exact calculation. An inert body in free fall does 30 meters a second, ok?
"Selon les dégâts, ça, c'est minimum 25 mètres. Maximum 80. J'ai le feeling que ça peut pas être 60 mètres. Parce qu'à 30 mètres à seconde, ça veut dire que sa chute aurait été d'exactement 2 secondes. C'est un chiffre trop rond, je le sens pas, ça se peut pas. Il y a rien de si précis dans la vie. Afin d'après moi, 80 mètres."
- From the mess, here, it's a minimum of 25 meters. Maximum 80. I have a feeling that it can't be 60 meters. Because at 30 meters a second, it means that her fall was exactly 2 seconds. It's a number too round, I don't feel it, it can't be. There is nothing that precise in life. In my opinion, 80 meters.
"Et ça, qu'est-ce que c'est?"
- And this, what is this ?
"Ça, c'est…comment tu dis ça, un jeux de cartes."
- That, it's…how do you say, a playing card.
"La reine des cœurs, spécial, hein? Mais c'est pas tout…"
- The queen of heats, special, hey? But that isn't all…
"Pourquoi il y a du sang?"
- But why is there blood?
"S'elle tombé de 200 pieds, ça a breaké sec en hostie."
- Well if she fell 200 feet, there has to be fuckin' blood.
"Mais de tout façon, une brûlure, JP, ça peut prendre une dizaine de jour à cicatriser?"
- But anyway, a burn, JP, it can take about 10 days to scar?
"Mais c'est bien plus frais que ça. Quelques heures à peine. Elle a pas commencée à cicatriser pantoute."
- But this way too fresh for that. A couple of hours at least. It hasn't started to scar at all.
"Mais pourquoi..."
- But why…
"…cette partie du brûlure saigne pas? C'est weird, hen?"
- …this part of the burn isn't bleeding? It's weird, right ?
"La fille peut…"
- The girl coulda…
"La fille peut avoir brûlée son bras y a deux mois et finir aujourd'hui, métons?"
- The girl could have burned her arm two months ago and again today, you say?
"Mauvaise réponse! Droit de réplique de la charmante détective."
- Wrong! Charming detective with the save.
"Trop long! C'est plus fucké que ça, c'est l'inverse. Le bout qui saigne a été fait en premier avant qu'elle meure. La partie qui saigne pas a été faite après qu'elle meurte. Ça se voit à cause de la pigmentation du peau. Fait qu'elle était morte avant la chute. C'est pas la chute qui l'a tuée."
- Too long! It's more fucked up than that, it's the inverse. The part that's bleeding was made first, before she died. The part that isn't bleeding was done after she died. You can tell by the pigmentation of the skin. So she was dead before the fall. It's not the fall that killed her.
"Et c'est là que j'en arrive avec ça."
- And it's here, that I found this.
"La coagulation sanguine de cette blessure-là correspond à celle du brûluuure."
- The blood coagulation of this injury here corresponds to that of the buuuuuurn.
"Les blessures de la chute sont plus récentes. Les patterns sont pas les mêmes."
- The injuries resulting from the fall are more recent. The patterns aren't the same.
"Ok, fait qu'elle était morte avant de tomber?"
- Ok, so she was dead before the fall?
"D'abord, pourquoi la brûlure? Une signature?"
- Then why the burn ? A signature ?
"Mais pourquoi la reine des coeurs?"
- But why the Queen of Hearts ?
"Je peux te donner mille de raisons."
- I can give you a 1000 reasons.
"Une seule suffira."
- One will do.
"Le Diable Blanc."
- The White Devil.
"Merci."
- Thanks.
"Pas de trouble. S'il y a du neuf, je t'appelle.,"
- No problem. If there's anything new, I'll call you.
"Merde."
- Shit.
"Hostie de merde de tabarnak."
- Mother fuckin' shit.
Rogue's Name:
In X-Men (2000) film, Rogue was credited as having the name Marie D'Ancanto which to this point she had no last name unless adopting Mystique's surname depending on which canon-verse. I never liked that idea, partly because I never really liked the surnames Mystique used. She still goes by Rogue to her friends and such.
Joual:
Joual is the common name for the linguistic features of Québecois French. It is similar to Créole in some respects but is very unique to Québec. The usage of profanities is an outstanding characteristic of joual and as is using alterations of English words. Since Jean-Paul is from Montréal, it would make sense that he can speak joual. People from France have significant problems understanding joual because it isn't proper French. In his monologue of delivering his diagnostic, Monet understands only half of it, because part of it is delivered in joual. If you are curious about joual, visit www.tetesaclaques.tv which is by far the best examples of joual and Québec culture I've seen.
Real-life Agencies:
Europol (European Police Office) - the European Union's criminal intelligence agency.
NSA (National Security Agency) - cryptology intelligence agency of the United States government.
FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) - investigative arm of the United States Department of Justice (DOJ) serving as both a federal criminal investigative body and a domestic intelligence agency.
MI6 (Secret Intelligence Service (SIS)) - the United Kingdom's external intelligence agency.
Locations:
Paris, France - the actual location where Genevieve Darcenaux was murdered in the canon-verse.
Washington, DC, USA - the main headquarters of the FBI.
London, England - the main headquarters of MI6.
The Hague, Netherlands - the main headquarters of Europol.
Fort Meade, Maryland, USA - the main headquarters of the NSA.
New Orleans, Louisiana, USA - the residence of the Lebeau homestead in the canon-verse.
Canon Character Cameos:
Jean-Paul Beaubier - a Canadian mutant and member of the X-Men from Montréal, Québec. His mutant powers a superhuman speed, flight, durability and light manipulation. JP is a relatively common nickname especially with those pesky double first names that are popular in Québec as well as in France.
Monet St. Croix - a French speaking mutant and member of the X-Factor Investigations and X-Corps: Paris. Her mutant powers are superhuman strength, speed, agility, supersonic flight, telepathy, identify mutant auras and a healing factor.
Genevieve Darcenaux - a young jewel thief who had a romantic relationship with Remy Lebeau before her demise. Her death is canon.
Jamie Maddox - a mutant and member of the X-men. His mutant power is self-duplication.
Constance Johanssen - a member of F.66 and a previous team member with Pete Wisdom.
Michelle Scicluna - a member of Black Air and a previous team member with Pete Wisdom.
Romany Wisdom - Pete Wisdom's older sister.
Fictional Agencies:
Black Air - former governmental intelligence department found and operating primarily within the United Kingdom initially as an adjunct to the Ministry of Defense mandated to investigate and research the supernatural and paranormal phenomena.
F.66: Department of Unusual Deaths - the British Metropolitan Police branch specializing in unusual death.
To my loyal reviewers:
melissarxy1 – Thanks !
Lucia de'Medici – Hope you like the first chapter, Remy action in the next chapter!
ShadowFax999 – CIA Rogue would be kick-ass but I have a soft spot for the FBI and they actually have an Art Crimes Division, how cool is that? And Europol does exist! I haven't the skill to make up an agency…I wish though…Pete is going to be James Bondy if James Bond chainsmoked and swore like a sailor…lol
gambit-rogue – Thanks for the support!
emotionalcrack – Tada! Sorry for the long wait!
And to those who put me on author alert: Goldylokz, Kai3anime, Queen of Egypt180, Rogue181, Rogue87 and sjmcday!
Much thanks! Hope you'll enjoy the read!
Author's Note: Sorry about the delay, I wanted it to be awesome. I'm currently on work term in Alberta of all places, this Québec girl is out of her element. Please read & review! Suggestions are appreciative. Next chapter will have the FBI scrambling and Europol fuming. And Remy seeing an old "friend".
I hope you enjoyed my first action/suspense/mystery attempt, I am way better at writing pointless dialogue and the actual flushing out is awkward at times, I have multiple Word documents on my laptop that are just random conversations I envision people having, and I think, gee, if this was in a story it would be awesome. If only my brain and my hands were better coordinated.
Be aware if I make any mistakes to locations, and people are like, it so isn't like that there, I have been to Europe but was only England bound. As for the States, the furthest I've has been NYC. My basis for the NSA and the FBI are from avid watching of the X-Files and Bones. Same goes for MI6 and Europol but with every action/thriller ever made.
Enjoy! Allez-y mes amis! Écrit moi un mot de confiance! SVP! Your reviews fuel my passion to write more!
Read & Review!
- Swing