Chapter 2 – Living Still Life Part 2
She listened to his long explanation in silence. She wished she were physically there to actually watch his face while he tells her how he is considering destroying a man's mind. She wondered why it never crossed her own that something like that would be possible. Maybe she was innocent to think some lines wouldn't be crossed.
In that world, there were no lines.
When he stopped talking, her first question was simple only at first glance.
"Does he deserve it?"
The answer was not reassuring.
"Does it matter?"
She bit her lower lip, worried and not quite knowing what to say or what he wanted to hear.
"Yes… No. I don't know. Are you going to take it?"
Silence.
"Maybe. If I don't take it, someone will. This guy is desperate."
"And if you take it then there's a chance…"
"…To make the right choice. Yeah."
But what was the right choice?
"What we did to Fisher… Well, it wasn't exactly nice either. We manipulated a man to believe a lie but it was for a good cause. If he hadn't dismantled his father empire…"
"This is different."
"How? I mean, Arthur… If this man is responsible for murder…"
She could almost see him slowly nodding his head.
"But is revenge or justice?"
She sighed, putting her phone on the other ear.
"Does it matter?"
She could hear in his breathing that he was hesitant. That was the first time that he had shown not to be completely certain of something. It made her nervous.
"I really have great timing, don't I?" she said in attempt to lighten the mood. "Here I was, just trying to convince you to have coffee sometime with me and you're in the middle of something like this."
"Coffee? And how exactly that could work when you're back in Paris and I'm in California?"
"I didn't know that! Maybe you were here, who knows? You travel the world, like… Every two days. Do you own an airline too?"
He laughed a little, making her smile too. She still had some doubts about destroying someone's mind, but the appeal of doing another crazy journey was too great and hearing his laugh was enough to make a choice.
"I'm still in. That's if you decide to take the job."
"Do you think I should then?"
Thinking herself to be moral and law-abiding citizen used to be easy, when the lines of right and wrong were still clear. Now, she saw how selfish she could be. It was the challenge; it was the trill and freedom that ruled her decision in the end. And also a belief in a certain person.
"Yes," she paused, letting sink in the reality of her own answer. "It's like you said: if you don't, someone else will. I trust you, Arthur. You're going to make the right decision no matter what."
He doesn't speak for almost too long, making her afraid of having said too much, too soon. It was rather strange how she started believing in him so quickly. But putting her trust in a man she knew so little about was just one of the many bad habits she got during her "internship" with Dom Cobb.
"I suppose we're doing this then."
.. a .. a .. a ..
He didn't know why exactly he let her convince him. The skeptical part of him recognized that, in reality, Ariadne probably said that because she really wanted to be back in the game. But the fact that she knew precisely what to say to persuade him and the way she did it, with such sincerity, it gave him the last push towards what could probably be a very bad idea. Or perhaps deep inside he already wanted to do it.
She was waiting for him to call her. He told her he was going to speak personally to the client, arrange a few things and then finally tell her when and where to go meet him. He felt strange for a minute, before taking a deep breath and focusing on everything that was needed to be done. It was easier to forget lingering doubts when focusing on basic procedures in preparation for a job.
He called Cobb the morning after his talk with her. It was possibly his first decision in a long time that surprised his friend. He was immediately asking what had made him reconsider so quickly. Arthur changed the subject the best he could.
Confessing that a certain architecture student was the reason was too unprofessional, which would mean a whole new line of questioning from Cobb. One that Arthur wasn't ready to face.
A meeting with the client was set the next day in Chicago. On the flight to the city, Arthur tried to understand what kind of person would pay millions of dollars to destroy someone's mind. His dossier was short, with not enough data for his liking. But, then again, Cobb information gathering skills weren't his strong suit.
Jordan Adler was a CEO of a small bank and married to a rich heiress. There weren't any signs of illegal activities, criminal records nor even suspicious financial schemes connected to his company or family. He hadn't done anything noteworthy until recently, when the death of his only son became front news page for months. The crime had attracted attention thanks to its location: the victim was found on the parking lot of an underground club, famous for selling heavy drugs and celebrating the idea of dream life as the true reality. Always loving to shock the masses for more sales the media quickly focused on tales of group suicides, drug induced orgies and conspiracy theories, dragging the Adler family with it.
Even so, at first, despite the general population opinion, the police seemed to think it had been only a robbery turned murder, with Adler's son wallet being found empty in a trashcan a few blocks away. Still, Jordan hired his own team to find who he thought was the real culprit, a man named James Edwards, a recently fired employee. They found testimonies of five people confirming Edwards' presence in the club, talking to his son and then leaving the club a few minutes after him. That, added to the fact that Edwards had personally threatened Adler after being fired, was enough for the police to bring the man to trial.
But it hadn't being enough to find him guilty. Without the murder weapon and with Edwards convincing testimony, he was freed and declared innocent. And still Adler hadn't given up. If anything, it made him more determined. The death of his child was perhaps blinding him from the truth? Or maybe he knew something the police didn't.
While everyone on the plane slept, probably dreaming of mundane things, Arthur kept himself awake and alert, reading the papers again and again, looking for something that didn't fit or a clue of how to best approach the mark in a secure manner. Normally he would count on Cobb to form a plan, they could think things together and that made easier to spot mistakes or holes. Now he was alone and without the help of a good partner to watch his back. It made him even more cautious than normal.
The plane landed and Arthur went from a taxi to another hotel room, following his usual routine of lonely elevator rides and empty corridors in the middle of the night. He wondered for a moment if this was back at the second level dream of Fisher's job, but then chuckled to himself, remembering that he had done that kind of thing most of his life. One of his earlier memories was of a hotel room door with numbers in bright gold and the smell of chocolate mints bellow his pillow.
Nevertheless, he touched the loaded die inside his pocket, feeling its particular weight. Hotel rooms were his life, but one could never be too sure.
Once inside, he finally relaxed enough to sleep until morning. The sound of his cell phone woke him up four hours later.
"Does the concept of time-zones elude you, Eames?"
"And here I thought you would appreciate my quick response to your utterly rude text."
"It's called being to the point."
"Call me. Stop. Have a job. Stop. Now. Stop. A boy likes to be wooed too, you know. From time to time."
"Never thought you're the needy type. Next time I will add a smiley face, happy?"
"Only if it is winking at me. Maybe a XOXO, for effect."
Not even one minute into a conversation with the man and he was already rolling his eyes.
"So, what is this urgent job that requires my amazing talents?"
"Are up for another challenge?"
"Always. It's another rich boy with his father issues?"
"If only. No. We're destroying someone's mind."
"Oh. Dramatic. Never done that. You the one taking care of this one or Cobb is pulling the strings from home, hm?"
For a split of second he's surprised by the lack of outrage, but then realized that Eames' moral compass was probably broken beyond repair, if it ever existed in the first place. He wondered, then, if his own was cracking right now.
"He's really out, Eames."
"Well, I suppose being a family man has its appeals. What's the reward?"
"Sixty million."
"Boy, that's… A lot of chips. What's my cut?"
"Fifteen."
"That seems fair. Very well, Arthur. Send me the details and you have your forger."
"Glad to have you on board."
"Oh, you. You do know how to make a man feel appreciated. I'm all giddy."
"Eames… Turning off. Now.'
"Bye, darl…"
Closing his phone, he looked at the time. It was seven thirty; he had five hours to prepare to the meeting with Adler. Minutes later, Ariadne sent him a text.
"Good morning. Good luck".
He typed a simple "thanks", resisting the urge to add a smiley face not appear too "rude" (Bloody Eames), and went to his Chicago's safe house. He checked for passports, credit cards, cash, credentials, drivers' licenses, social security numbers, spare untraceable cell phones, guns and dream sharing equipment. Everything seemed to be in order. He doubled checked anyway.
Adler set the meeting on his own luxurious apartment where Arthur was received by two security guards in grey suits with guns hidden in their backs. So, the client was not feeling safe and didn't trust him as well. Not a good sign. They led him through a private elevator and then to a spacious hall, placing themselves at both the only exit and entry to the room. He was left to sit on a black leather sofa for thirty minutes. Terrible sign.
At last, a woman opened the main door, she was the picture of a high class socialite: stiletto heels, just enough makeup to hide the wrinkles next to her eyes but not enough to distract from her natural beauty, bag and jewelry especially made to match her high fashion dress and Chanel No.5. They always went for Chanel No. 5, for some reason. The only thing strange about her was a general aura of coldness, like she would pull a gun out her tiny handbag and kill him right there, with no regrets. He knew who she was, that was Sybil Adler, wife of his future client.
She walked towards him and Arthur immediately stood up to greet her.
"Mrs. Adler, thank you for receiving me."
"Yes, thank you for agreeing to see us. Will you follow me, Mr.…?"
"Arthur. Please, just call me Arthur."
By her raised eyebrows she thought he was flirting with her, perhaps used to young employees trying to flatter her for a promotion. Rumor was she was very hands-on with her husband company.
They went pass the two security guards and towards a long hallway. He noticed that various doorways had advanced security locks. A paranoid client. Great. Finally they arrived at a dining room illuminated by large windows with a beautiful view of the city. At the center, sitting next a long table were two men. One he identified as Jordan himself, the other one was a young man that Arthur saw in many pictures recently taken of the couple. His name was Guy Nouvelle, but he hadn't enough time to gather much else about the man. Already he was making mistakes.
"Good afternoon, Mr.…?"
"Don't bother, dear. Apparently we are not to be trusted with his last name", the wife interrupted her husband, giving him a caste kiss on the lips before sitting next to him.
Adler chuckled and Arthur realized the woman was smarter than he gave her credit for.
"It's Arthur Grayson, Mr. Adler. I'm terribly sorry for giving wife the wrong impression…"
It wasn't Grayson. But that could make Cobb laugh if he was there. Although he supposed that next time he had to introduce himself as Wayne, he wasn't a sidekick anymore.
"Don't let Sybil trouble you, Mr. Grayson. She likes to make people uncomfortable. Please sit."
He did, on the opposite side of the table, in a position that made him able observe all three of the participants. It seems he was going to work for all of them, and so, it was best to learn more about each one. Noticing that he was looking at the youngest person present, Adler introduced the boy.
"This is Guy Nouvelle. Guy was a close friend of Carl's."
"I will be Mr. and Mrs. Adler eyes on the mission," he quickly added with heavy French accent, trying to sound professional and failing, "I'm going with you."
"I have to be clear with you: I don't take civilians on missions, Mr. Adler. It's not safe and could compromise our objective."
"This one you're taking." Sybil said her tone final. "He already trained for this."
He was ready to argue once more, but Adler intervened.
"We're getting ahead of ourselves, dear. I'm sure he has questions before accepting our proposition."
"Yes. I do," he took out one of the papers from his briefcase, sliding it towards the trio. It was the dossier on the subject. "Why not a robbery? And why Edwards?"
"He threatened my husband, did you not read the information we gave your partner?"
It seemed the wife didn't like him already.
"I did. But I need more information. Your personal experiences' with him, his personality and why would he have done it. Also the reasons for not agreeing with the robbery theory." When the wife started to open her mouth, Arthur couldn't resist and continued, "…Besides the obvious. In short, Mr. Adler, I need to be certain Edwards is to blame."
"Didn't think an extractor would care about something like that. Aren't you all mercenaries working for the highest pay?" Guy said, clearly expecting to find Eames sitting there or maybe James Bond. Arthur really hoped he hadn't to bring the kid with him, he was too green.
"Guy. Please." was Adler response. At least someone was reasonable. "We know it wasn't a robbery, Mr. Grayson, for a simple reason. My son always carried a picture of his family with him, a very specific photo of a vacation with us when he was nine years old."
He sighted and took his wife hand before continuing; her expression was soft for the first time.
"I have the same one in my office. When Edwards decided to invade it to babble about being fired unjustly, he was very intrigued by it. He took in his hand, commented about how beautiful my family was and his tone was very bitter. The underlined treat against my family was clear."
"I gather the picture was missing from the wallet?"
"Yes."
"The police report says it was completely empty, a thief probably would also trash all of the contents. While it's suspicious, it's also circumstantial."
Sybil scoffed, clearly not tolerant of that line of questioning.
"They found his documents and other photos in the trash, but not that one."
"Still circumstantial. What about Edwards… He was fired two months before the murder, why wait that much time to act?"
"To plan it," she answered.
"He threatened your husband the very next day of being fired, in plain sight, with his secretary witnessing everything. Doesn't seem to be a carefully planned action."
"He's crazy, obvious."
Why she was so desperate to condemn the man, Arthur couldn't figure it out yet, but for now it was just annoying him.
"First he waits to plan, then his crazy? This is not helping your case, Mrs. Adler."
Now would be the time that Cobb entered the conversation, trying to be diplomatic and calm. But Cobb wasn't there to stop Arthur from antagonizing idiotic people.
"I didn't realize I had to present you a case," she snarled, clearly also losing her patience. "You're supposed to follow our orders and do the job without questioning us. If you don't want sixty million dollars, then stop wasting our time."
Next, she stood up abruptly and left the room, the sound of her high heels echoing through the room. Adler followed her with his eyes, before sighing in defeat.
"You must understand… This is still all very close to us. We are fighting to be believed for a long time now. She's just can't stand anymore, the questions, the doubts."
He nodded, regretting just a little for being so openly against their theory. He was so used to be the one responsible to find problems and mistakes in everything that it was easy to forget the feelings of others when the holes in their opinions were pointed out. Not something to be proud of, especially when it was directed at potential clients.
"I am sorry for this. But you have to understand what you are asking me to do. I need to be sure."
"Others won't", Guy argued, turning to Adler. "We can find someone else to do it."
"Probably. But I'm feeling that Mr. Adler doesn't want the burden of destroying someone's life without being sure," he hoped his supposition was true. "I am the best of the market. I'll deliver. You know this, you know my reputation. Other will not question you, but they will fail."
Adler nodded, making his protégée sitting next to him angry.
"This is all very true. But I'm afraid we are in an impasse. A court didn't think the man was guilty. I don't believe that I can present something that will give you complete certainty. I don't have proof enough. If I had, he would be in jail right now."
Arthur couldn't argue against that. He already knew that was going to be the case ever since he talked to Ariadne.
"Yes, I realize that. So I have a proposition: I will look for proof inside his mind. If I find anything that could be used in a court of law, then you'll use it. He will go to jail, and that will be justice. If I can prove his innocence to you, then he's free to go and you will not hunt this man anymore."
"What if you find him guilty but not the proof required?"
"Then I will destroy his mind."
Adler considered for a while the possibility and Arthur hoped he made a convincing argument. Guy was just watching him with clearly distaste.
"I think that's reasonable. I can agree with these terms."
As he said that he got up, walked towards Arthur and offered his hand, which he took with somewhat surprise. He was expecting a long discussion about it. Guy left the room, in an angry fit, not improving Arthur's opinion of the kid.
Alone with Adler, Arthur had the chance to ask his last burning question. Now that he met the man, it made even more confused.
"Why destroy his mind…? Why not kill him?"
Adler looked at the door, were both the others participants of the meeting had exited.
"He was her only child. He was her everything. She can't sleep without dreaming of him. She can't remember without seeing him. She's only a shadow now. He destroyed us, Mr. Grayson. And I want to destroy him in return. Death didn't seem enough."
When he left the building, the first thing he did was call Ariadne.
.. a .. a .. a ..
Two days later and she's flying to Mombasa, with nothing but a small bag and a toothbrush. Her totem was back at her hands and during all flight she doesn't let it go. She felt somewhat crazy for leaving behind her studies once again; she wondered how long will take her father to notice his daughter suddenly disinterest in her dream college. Or how long text messages were able to maintain friendships.
But most of all she felt content, like she was doing the right thing with her life.
When the plane landed, Arthur was there, waiting for her. With an unusual grin on his face, he took her bag and asked how she was. She just stared for a moment, before realizing how stupid she must look and answering that she was fine.
"Are you having any trouble sleeping?" he asked gently, noting her totem still in her right hand and her apparent lack of focus.
"No… Not really."
"If you are, I can help you relax."
Did she heard right?
"I could teach you some techniques, like breathing exercises. Yoga helps as well."
Oh.
"Oh. No thanks. I'm really fine. Very relaxed. This," she lifted her totem, "This is just habit, you know."
"Yeah. I know", he smiled, taking his own out from the pocket of his coat.
"So, we're recruiting Yusuf again?"
"Yes. We'll need his sedative."
"But you said it was a two level dream. I thought that didn't need one so strong."
She saw how he hesitated, his eyes turning away from her. She wasn't going to like his answer.
"I need to go to limbo."
"What? On purpose?"
She had stopped walking now. He had to turn back to face her.
"Yes. Dreams are only a window to the mind. I have to access deeper into his subconscious and destroy what makes him function in reality. His own sense of self."
"How about your own? Cobb got lost in there. Saito too. You could end up dead."
"They came back. If Cobb can do it, I can too."
She rolled her eyes.
"This isn't some kind of competition."
"It isn't. Just facts," he grinned at her.
"But you are the point man… Not the deep subconscious exploring man!"
She was mad at him, but that didn't stop him from laughing. When she kept her furious expression, he walked towards her, putting both hands at her shoulders, now serious.
"I can do this, Ariadne. With practice."
"Practice? You're going there more than once? Arthur!"
"You trusted Cobb to come back. Can't you trust me?"
"This isn't about trust. It's about you being… Reckless. Besides he had experience there."
"You went there and came back without any trouble. And it was your first time."
"Maybe I should be the one to do it then."
"No."
"Why not? Can't you trust me?" she argued, her arms crossed.
He was beyond serious now; the intensity in his eyes surprised her. She could see that wasn't even a possibility in his mind.
"I can't risk you."
"Well, I can't risk you."
Was she saying what she thought she was? Was he?
"It's not the same. I'm the one with experience, and I know I can to this safely. This not a decision I made lightly."
"I know."
"This is what I do. I think and plan and prepare. And sometimes I improvise. But I never plan something I'm not sure I can pull off."
"I know."
"Then, let's stop talking about it."
"I will. After you promise me something."
"What?"
"I'm going in with you…"
"Didn't I just said…"
"…when you practice. I want to go with you. This is not a negotiation. I helped Cobb, I can help you too if…"
"I don't have any dead wives running around my subconscious."
"Good to know. But I'm still going."
She would be just as stubborn as he was. If he wanted to do that crazy plan of his, he had to accept her help, and that was final. After a few moments, he sighed and she knew he could see that it was impossible to argue anymore. The decision was made.
"Ok."
"Good."
They were doing this together. She wouldn't let him go alone.
Thanks for reading, folks! :) Ps. Guy was for so long just the "new guy, new guy does that, new guy does this..." that when the time came for give him a name, well, I had to make a joke about it. Nouvelle is french for news (Nouveau seemed a little too obvious lol).
