They spoke quietly, constantly making reference to the picture on the screen. "We can't be letting something like this slide." As he spoke the General's hat bobbed up and down then fell down over his face so he was constantly pushing it back up above his eyes. There were many murmurs of conversation.
"But how can we prove it?" Governor Anstey.
"We don't need to; he's a spy, it's his job. It's not like spying is the most honest job on the face of the earth." The sardonic quality in the background of the General's tone had always brought down a monstrous weight down on the Governor's nerves. He pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut, tightly. The General saw but decided to ignore it out of a greater irritation than that of the Governor's. "Go to hell Anstey; I don't care about your problems with me, you know that I'm right; don't deny it you pretentious prick." Governor Anstey smirked at him with a smug ostentatious snarl.
"Now, now, children calm down; there is no reason for this damn foolery. We have business to contend to so shut up and participate or leave." The president strode back in forth in front of the table that all the members sat and spoke. The tensions grew more and more overwrought as they tried to compile appropriate, and feasible, ways to dispose of their nuisance.
Had it merely taken an hour later, the men had created a suitable way to deal with him. "Yes; that is it. We'll make him beg that's beautiful.
"It's almost poetic justice; 'an eye for an eye' sort of occurrence."
…
Noah rushed away from the Eiffel Tower as quickly as possible. Along the way he saw a jacket that had just been carelessly tossed aside; he grabbed it and slide into it to try and turn attention away from him. Unbeknownst to the others around him, his silenced pistol clanked against his belt buckle. A noise that he became all too aware of. He grabbed at the area where they met and tried to muffle the clinking noise thinking that they could here.
It was this line of thinking that made him a master spy. He was never willing to let the littlest indiscretions go; this although may have been the reason behind his current situation. "I gotta get back to the hotel." Police cars drove by blaring their sirens all headed toward the Eiffel Tower. Noah couldn't believe the turnout of the police to this; it was almost mind boggling. He continued, nonetheless, to the hotel so that he could begin his packing. He had to get out of here.
Moments later he approached the hotel.
"Sir vous avez un visitora." The doorman said as Noah passed into the spinning door entrance. A visitor? Who the hell knows that I'm here? Noah asked himself perplexed. He didn't know whether or not to risk going up there to see who had decided to pay him a visit. He hopped into the elevator and pressed the floor that contained his room. The ride was a solemn and empty one; nothing could have felt worse. He'd left her standing up there all alone, would she be alright? He didn't know; how could he. This was the thing he'd always feared when he was a spy that he'd fall for one of his targets. He had to be put into the mindset of who he was constantly purveying and sometimes, when you watch somebody for too long, you begin to consummate feelings for them.
That is exactly what had ended up happening. He fell for her, hard. It was an enormous problem but he'd done all he could to make sure they never found him, nor would think to look for him. He faked his own death. This new identity, Noah Addy, was just a pencil pusher; a desk jockey. He was an average Joe, instead of being a spy with amazing fighting ability and hunger to kill his prey. To mask this truth he created this façade, a glasses wearing tour giver. The absolute opposite of who he was and who he'd ever want to be. But he gave it all up for her and retired.
The elevator finally reached his floor and the door opened. As he walked out he had this overwhelming feel of fear. As if something, someone was near. Something, someone, he didn't want to see again. Ever.
He walked getting closer and closer to his room; he had also removed his pistol just in case. The feeling was still hanging over, ominously, just waiting to strike upon him. He grabbed hold of the doorknob and, very slowly, turned it then opened it. He held his weapon to the door so as to not alert anyone who may be inside. After opening the door about a third of the way and noticed that nobody was really inside nor anywhere close, he opened it all the way. Was it paranoia that had overcome him? Just that incisive over examination ability of his? But the doorman had said somebody was there… and yet nobody.
"Hmm, intéressant." His murmur, unwittingly, alerted the man who had been awaiting him in secrecy in his apartment. The intruder, with a deep roar, bounded the corner and thrust a knife towards him. Noah put his hands up and blocked it, sticking the knife into the door. But in doing this he gave the intruder the opportunity to grab hold of his gun. Noah wasn't stupid though, so before he could have the chance to use it Noah slammed him against the wall and forced him to relinquish it. "Percy!" he shouted and threw Noah across the room. Noah slid and hit the coffee table knocking it onto its side while at the same time breaking a leg off. The man was huge and bulking, with muscles that could be double Noah's own. Noah had only met him once, many years ago.
Noah was on a mission to eliminate the leader of a drug cartel in Puerto Rico and while there he'd incurred the wrath of the Kingpin's monstrous, and psychotic, son. The only problem was that Emilio, the son, now looked bigger than he did the whole 3 years ago that he completed that assignment and retired.
"Usted va a morir por lo que hiciste a mi padre!" He lifted his leg and prepared to smash it upon Noah's head. Noah grabbed that broken leg and hit Emilio in the crotch with it. He grabbed his crotch then retreated slightly back, in pain. Noah smacked him in the head with it then brought it across his face, hard. After that he tried to get out the door but Noah grabbed hold of his hair and thrust his face into the wall, breaking his nose. Blood dripped from the wall and Emilio was now in severe enough pain that he started to whimper.
"Who sent you? Was it the Cartel?" Noah grabbed up his gun from the floor and brought it to his head. He didn't answer. He cocked the gun then pushed it harder into his temple.
"I'm not playing around dammit." He didn't budge still. Nearly on his breaking point, Noah pushed the gun into Emilio's shoulder and pulled the trigger. He fell to the ground in more pain then he'd known, ever. "Maldito seas!"
"Yeah, yeah, damn me; I get that a lot. Tell me who sent you!" He put the silenced barrel right into the wound and moved it around. A shriek erupted from his mouth before biting on his hand. "Your father showed you never to give signs that make your captor know they're winning. I'm not surprised but you're not as strong as he is; maybe physically but not mentally." He tapped Emilio in the head with the barrel. "Una ùltima vez: who sent you?" His voice was so calm and controlled that it freaked him out. He didn't know how a killer, a supposed lifeless man could speak so calmly but with such emotion.
Emilio broke, "El gobierno, el Gobierno Americano." Noah sighed… and pulled the trigger.
Noah took a seat at the desk that was in the room and began to etch an outline for a message he was going to write to Aurora.
Je t'aime… Non… it's too late; Death wait's for n man… be afraid… secrets reside below the surface… the lies in the preface… abstain delusion; perversion, aversion, confusion, allusion… je t'aime Mon Cerie…
Noah Addy
Apres moi le deluge… C'est la guerre
Aurora read the message and the last sentence just rang in her head as loud as — no louder than the bells of Notre Dame. "Apres moi le deluge." After me comes the flood.
