Chapter 2: Backstories
Une semaine plus tôt à Paris (A week earlier in Paris)
Ariadne is hunched over her desk, her attention shifting back and forth between a scaled model and the layout drawings of the hotel ground floor. She is double-checking fire exits, service entrances and the hidden panel she incorporated behind the reception desk. She is proud of that one, a shortcut that leads from the center of the open space to a back alley. One of the little dream paradoxes Arthur taught her.
Her concentration slips when she hears Arthur shifts in his seat. Eames is at the pointman's desk, handing him a passport. Arthur flips it open. His eyebrows shoot up:
"Eames T. Hardy… Eames Thomas Hardy? Someone's got ideas of grandeur."
Eames only chuckles. Ariadne beams at him:
"I didn't know your name."
Both men stare at her. Not for the first time, Ariadne has the distinct feeling that she has missed the point. She doesn't belong to their world yet.
Arthur stands up, and starts moving towards her. He takes the time to undo his cufflinks and roll his sleeves up to his elbows. He leans on her desk, and she pivots in her chair to better watch him. He offers a striking profile, lean and hard.
"Sometimes a subject realizes extraction has been performed on him. Not instantly when he wakes up, the feeling develops over three or four days. But with the realization, comes the need to investigate."
He tilts his head towards her, assuring himself she's following.
"And so we need fake names."
His slanted eyes crinkle in what she now recognizes as his hidden smile. He continues:
"We need a bit more than that, some back-story. When a target starts investigating, he has to go back 6 to 7 days, checking his travel, the time spent in hotels, in one-on-one meetings, … Thankfully, the type of men targeted for extraction have busy schedules, travel often, meet lovers in busy hotels."
"So it is harder for them to pinpoint the moment the shared dream took place."
"You catch on quickly. The main precaution we take is for each of us to have an independent reason to be in the same place at the same time. We cannot travel as a group on our jobs. We craft separate reasons to share a cabin on a plane or a car on a train. A smoke screen of sorts."
"So, Eames Hardy is an alias?"
"Yes."
"And what is his story?"
If she hadn't witnessed Arthur keep his calm under any and every circumstance since she's known him, during all the waking hours they spent working side by side in the warehouse, and their even longer hours in the dream training sessions, she could swear the darker tinge of his cheeks is embarrassment.
"Eames has various lady friends. Usually rich, or powerful, or close to power, sometimes the three. But always needing … discretion. He visits one or the other, depending on when the job takes place. If someone investigates him, any abnormality gets attributed to an attempt to conceal the identity of his paramour of the day."
He smiles and shrugs, somewhat apologetically. She can't help the mischievous tone and the direct stare, straight into his eyes, when she asks her next question.
"What is your back-story then?"
"Nothing so glamorous. Sorry to disappoint." he deadpans, before continuing. "Cobb and I have been at it a long time. We have various identities set, and dummy corporations to cover our trips worldwide. Import and export, international finances, that sort of activities make for a good cover."
Her gaze travels from the tip of his Italian shoes, up the crisp pants and fitted waistcoat, to the tie and buttoned up collar.
"Hence the suit"
His own eyes follow the path hers just took before meeting hers. He chuckles.
"No, I think this is just me."
He holds her gaze, and she can feel heat creeping up past her scarf.
"So what do you have for me?"
He drops his eyes before he answers "I am working on it."